South America, Day 1: Lima, Peru

South America, Day 1: Lima, Peru
by Oliver Butterick

I woke up early and drove to Rocky's house. We're carpooling to his company's headquarters in El Segundo, and they have a free shuttle to LAX. Not paying for long-term parking is a good thing.

I had forgotten that we were leaving on Veteran's Day, a federal holiday, and so I didn't think it was a big deal that I didn't get to the bank on Wednesday. Wrong! Instead, I stopped by the Bank of My Brother, and wrote him a check for some cash.

However, also because of the holiday, traffic was unusually light, so getting to my brother's and then Rocky's proved to be no problem. I even had time to download all of the Halloween pictures off my camera before we had to leave for the airport. Thank Goodness for the Veterans!

Once on the airplane, I was a little shy about using my Spanish. I remember the last trip that I took to a Spanish-speaking country, and I felt the same way. Fortunately, a day or two into the trip, I no longer felt embarrassed about stumbling over my poor grammar, vocabulary, and pronunciation.

The crew was almost entirely Spanish-only speakers, so we had a little difficulty in communicating. It took us forever to get headsets so that we could watch the in-flight movie, The Bourne Supremacy (I'm not sure why I never wrote a review of this great film). Also, when we asked for Rocky's vegetarian meal, the flight attendant said that they didn't have any, but then proceeded to tell us that the pasta option contained no meat. Definitely some sort of language barrier thing going on.

We landed, met up with Rocky's cousin, Tesh, and found our way to our ride to the hostel. We check in some time around 2am and decide to go out to grab a bite to eat and some drinks. Yeah, brilliant idea.

We grab a taxi and head to Barranco, one of the more hip suburbs of Lima. We're let off at the main plaza, and it looks a little scary. Poorly lit, with few people around, it seems a little dangerous. However, we're three guys, so we're not too worried. We find a restaurant that's open and step inside, only to find it decorated with every sort of Catholic religious memorabilia possible. Somehow, a small painting of the Hindu god Ganish found its way into this homage to Jesus Christ. I don't know if it made my companions (both of whom are Hindu) feel any more at home, but it was at least an interesting addition to the decor.

Once we were seated, we were notified of two things: 1. There was a $3.50 (about US$1) cover charge, and 2. They were closing in 30 minutes. We decide that this is our best option for food being that it's about 3:00am, so we go for it. (We quickly learned that we needed to haggle and bargain so that we were not taken advantage of.) We order a round of sweet Peruvian beer and take a look at the
menu.

When the beers arrive, we're told that they only have a few items on the menu because of how late it is. We avoid the pizzas, since one of us remembered that we're not supposed to eat cheese or any other dairy products. We're trying very hard to follow the rules of international travel, especially those designed to help us avoid “Tourista,” also known as “Montezuma's Revenge.” We even refused the glasses when they brought the beers, remembering that it is safer to drink straight from the bottle.

We end up getting french fries and guacamole. For some reason, we decide that the guacamole is safe. We pay the outrageous bill (about US$28 for three beers and two orders of fries), and head to a dive bar, where we immediately order pitchers of beer and drink from glasses. Like I said, we're trying really hard to follow the rules. Given what happened in the next few days, it seems like we silently agreed that it's okay to break one rule per day.

After several pitchers of beer, Rocky decided that he wants to meet some of the locals. Equipped only with the phrase "De donde es?" (Where are you from?), he heads outside. I'm a little bothered by him roaming around by himself, but since I'm already half drunk, I don't think much of it.

After five or ten minutes (it's so hard to keep track of time when you've been drinking), I go outside to find Rocky. He's nowhere in sight, so I return and tell Tesh. Just as Tesh was getting up to go find him, Rocky returns with his new friend, Brian.

Brian spoke very little English, which was unfortunate since we had already encountered several people (at the airport and the hostel) who had a decent command of the English language. Even though my Spanish was not much better than his English, Brian apologized profusely for his ineptitude (which again reminded me that I am a Spoiled American). Luckily, we shared the same enthusiasm for
the music videos that were playing, all of which were from the movie Grease. (I normally am not a big fan of musicals, but it's interesting how one's tastes change when one sees something familiar in a
foreign land, and, of course, after one has had several beers.)

After trudging through more language-barrier-riddled conversation, I decided to step outside, where I met a couple of children who were begging for change. What are these kids doing awake at this hour? Don't they have school in the morning? After I chat with them for a moment, a man joins the conversation, eager to practice his English. After exchanging a bit of small talk (where I'm
from, why I'm in Lima, and how I like it so far), the little beggar-girls inform me that the man is crazy. I politely excuse myself ("mucho gusto") and return inside.

It's now around 4am, so we decide to adjourn for the evening. When we got into the taxi, the little beggar-girls (one of whom was wearing a NY Yankees jacket, and so I despised her) informed me that I am crazy. It finally occurred to me that either these girls were not, in fact, licensed psychiatric professionals or that something was lost in translation. Now, I'm thinking that it was probably both.

Oliver can be reached at oliver@babblog.com.