By time I stepped out the Lima International airport, it was already midnight. Not the best time to be wandering a city looking for a hostel. However, I had scouted it out, and there were several decent looking hostels near Parque Kennedy in the heart of the posh Miraflores district of Lima, a nice area for travelers to stay.
I walked out of the airport and, seeing my two backpacks, taxi drivers swarmed me. I knew the prices in Lima were generally more expensive, but they all seemed to want S./60 to take me to Miraflores, which seemed absurd even though it is a good 35 minute ride. I waved the swarm off and approached and older, gentle looking taxi driver. “Necesito ir a Miraflores, cerca del Parque Kennedy.” He nodded. “Treinta?” He rebutted, “Cinquenta,” and after the firm but gentle manner he said it, I didn’t try to haggle any more. I knew I would be in good hands with this guy, and that is worth something. I paused, “Ok, vamos,” and off we went.
When we got to Miraflores, I could only vaguely remember the name of one of the hostels I had looked up (I have no data on my phone in SA, so any time I’m without Wifi I can’t look things up). “Sabes, Par..Para… es Parawana hospedaje?” “Si, Pariwana,” he knew it well. He dropped me off in front of the hostel at about a quarter to 1am, I rang the bell, and they buzzed me in. I wandered up the steps hoping they had a bed for me as I was tired and didn’t want to wander around at 1am looking for another place. Music was bumping from above, playing American pop music. Luckily they had a bed for me in a 12 person (!) coed dorm for S./42 per night. That again seemed expensive, but “I am in Lima now and things will be more expensive” I thought. Having only seen the stairway up and the reception area, I was impressed, the place looked pretty swanky compared to where I’d been in the jungle. I agreed, signed the registrar, and was shown my bed, a top bunk (fuck!).
I quickly perused the hostel. I found the kitchen and bathrooms. Then went upstairs to the rooftop of the building where the music was coming from, which was converted into an open air patio with couches, ping-pong and foosball tables, and a bar and restaurant inside. I believe it was a Tuesday night, and there must’ve been 50 people partying. I chatted with a few people, but decided to keep it ‘tranquillo’ that night and went to bed. The music from upstairs was loud in my room. I was glad to see they provided a set of earplugs on the pillow of my bed, an inauspicious sign(?).
I woke up the next day, ran out to get some eggs, butter, and avocado and returned to cook myself breakfast. I saw a sign for a free walking tour of Lima, which started at 10am from the meeting place in Parque Kennedy, which is about 200 feet from the street entrance of the hostel. It was already 9:40am so I washed my breakfast dishes, ran downstairs, took a 5 minute shower, brushed my teeth, dressed, and found the tour guide in the park by 9:55. He showed me to a brewery pub, where the rest of the tour group was waiting, having complementary microbrew beers. Free beer at 10 in the morning? When in Lima… I had a pint of a drinkable, smooth IPA and chatted up the girls sitting next to me at the bar.
The tour began at about 10:20, and when we emerged from the pub, I had a nice little buzz going from the almost 8% alcohol beer. The group headed to a bus station and boarded buses to the downtown, historical center of Lima, about a 10 minute ride. We headed on foot our first stop, the Plaza de Armas.
If you weren’t aware, most of South America was colonized by Spain, and therefore the architecture in Peru is distinctly Spanish. The Spanish weren’t ones to skimp on architecture, so the buildings from that area in the historic district of Lima are quite extravagant. We watched the changing of the guard ceremony at the Presidential Palace, then headed to the Cathedral.
I met a lovely girl from London, Phoebe, during the tour. She was in Lima for the first week of a six week stay, doing research and interviews for her dissertation on South American female poets. We got along well and were buddies for the rest of the tour.
For the rest of the tour, we went to some traditional Peruvian markets, ate some empanadas, saw a few more historical sights, and ended the tour learning the correct way to take a shot of Pisco, a clear, high-proof spirit that is extremely popular in Peru, and doing half shots of three different types of Pisco. Pisco sour, a cocktail, is the national drink of Peru.
Afterwards, Phoebe and I exchanged info and I headed back to Miraflores. I spent a couple hours exploring the area around my hostel. I stopped at a café to have a coffee and sat outside to people watch.
The people in Miraflores, Lima are all quite stylish. More so than is typical where I’m from. The gentlemen are well groomed, usually wearing navy or tan sport jackets and fine shoes. The women dress in the latest fashions embellished with several pieces of jewelry. They nearly always wear striking red lipstick and are wont to show off some legs and chest. The younger people have a more contemporary, hip-hop style, but are always in clean, fresh garments with immaculate hair.
The people are extremely affectionate. If a man and woman, or woman and woman, are walking down the street together, they are nearly always touching one another, either holding hands or with an arm around their companion. The people are remarkably lovey-dovey, and public displays of affection are common.
I headed back to the hostel to do some research on things to do while in Lima. I later met two dudes from Cleveland, Charlie and Peter. They were both 21 year old students at University of Miami, Ohio. They decided to spend their summer vacation abroad in Peru rather than hanging out in their home towns all summer. They were both cool, outgoing guys. Peter is a Division 1 swimmer at Miami who had to return to the States soon to begin offseason training, so they were near the end of their trip. They had already been in Lima for a week and had many good suggestions for places to eat and go. We had a beer at the hostel then headed out for dinner. We went to a good seafood restaurant and spent a lot of time discussing their travels in Peru, and they shared a lot of advice for where to go what to see in Peru, and also what not bother with.
We took a little night time walk around the city then headed back to the hostel, played ping-pong, had some, and mingled with other travelers staying there. During my time in Lima, the Copa America soccer tournament was going on and had just entered elimination play. Every night there was at least one game between South American country’s national teams, which drew many people to the bar of the hostel to watch. Watching the futbol games with South Americans was a blast. While most in the US thing futbol is boring, the South Americans were off the walls wild throughout the matches. Constantly cheering, screaming at the TV, cheers-ing, singing songs, drumming on the tables, and otherwise being fiery Latinos.
I watched a match in the bar that night and wound up getting a bit drunker than I wanted with all the toasting and celebrating. Remember, I was trying to limit my alcohol consumption for 30 days as part of my post ayahuasca diet. This was extremely difficult in a city like Lima with popping nightlife, and at a party hostel like Pariwana. However, I managed to muster up my resolve, and said goodnight to Charley, Peter, and my other amigos and headed to bed before I did any more damage.
I spent the next day very leisurely. I made coffee and breakfast in the kitchen at the hostel and spent the next few hours writing. In the early afternoon, I went out to almuerzo with Charlie and Pete. We went to a little restaurant off a side street that they had previously been, and had a satisfying three course lunch for like $4. I spent the rest of the afternoon running errands. One of my errands was getting my haircut, which I was slightly nervous about, as I had to get across how to cut my hair in Spanish. However, the lady who cut my hair and I reached an understanding, and she did a great job. She went over it all with scissors at least four times, which is more thorough than my typical haircut back home.
Staying in shape when traveling is hard. Aside from the constant walking I was doing, I was concerned about my lack of physical activity over the last week or so. I was losing some muscle tone and looking thinner. I headed to the park and several body weight exercises and then about 40 minutes of yoga. A lot of people were looking at me, but fuck it I didn’t care, I needed to get my blood pumping. Afterwards, I took a siesta under a tree in the park.
I went back to the hostel, showered up, and made dinner. After, I went to the bar and watched a futbol match with Charlie, Peter, and three crazy Colombians. Colombia was playing Ecuador in the Copa America, a big rivalry. Hanging with the Colombians was fun, but intense. They’re extremely emphatic with their speech and gestures. They speak loudly with wide eyes and menacing grins. They told us all about their country while watching the game, cheers-ing us Americans, “Salud!” and slamming their glasses into ours and gulping down beer, literally, a minimum of every two minutes. Sometimes they’d “Salud!” us and then 15 seconds later, “Salud! Salud!” us again. Colombia won and there was a brief celebratory song and dance. After the 90 minute game with the Colombians, I headed outside for some fresh air feeling quite buzzed.
I returned to find Charlie, Peter, the Colombians, and a couple Israelis putting money together to buy a bottle of tequila. It was Charlie and Peters last night in Peru, so they were ready to party. I hung out for a bit longer, avoiding the tequila, then went for a night time walk around Miraflores and then retired to my room to abide the Shamans instructions and avoid drunken debauchery.
The next morning I said goodbye to Charlie and Peter, who were both in bad shape after two bottles of tequila with the party crew. I then caught a bus to Barranco, another attractive coastal district of Lima just south of Miraflores, for another free walking tour. Barranco is a beautiful place, with streets lined with bold yellow, pink, orange, and blue two-story terracotta roofed flats reminiscent of Europe but with more South American flair. The feeling of the place is very bohemian and artsy. Street art and murals are everywhere. I had already become enamored with the murals I had seen throughout Lima, and in Barranco it was even more striking.
I became friendly with many people in the tour group. After the tour ended around dusk, all my new buddies and I went out for a beer followed by dinner at a ‘Chifa,’ or Peruvian-Asian, restaurant recommended by the guide on our tour. One thing you might not expect about Peru is a large population of Asians, but perhaps it’s not surprising considering Asia is just across the Pacific from western Peru. We order a large sample platter of several different Chifa dishes, which were all quite tasty, with a bit more spice than typical Asian food in the States. Afterwards, we all caught a bus back to Miraflores.
Kat from London, Julia from Belgium, and another girl whose name is escaping me from Switzerland were still keen to hang out, so I invited them to my hostel to hang at the bar. When we got to the rooftop, music bumping, they confirmed what I had already decided I disliked about my hostel, and immediately asked, “Wow, how do you sleep with this atmosphere?!” “With earplugs,” I told them. We hung out for a couple hours, and then Kat and Julia went back to their hostel to get some sleep before their surf lesson the next morning. They asked if I wanted to come, and I said, “What the hell, why not?”
The next day I met them at Playa Makaha. It was a gray, overcast, windy day. Not the most pleasant day to be going in the ocean, but that didn’t deter us. We met the surf instructor, Johnny, they had made arrangements with and wet-suited up. We received instructions and did some drills on the beach to teach us how to stand up on the surfboard when catching a wave. After Johnny was satisfied, he distributed surfboards and into the cold Pacific ocean we went. For first timers, the usually give you longboards, which are easier to get up on, and mine was a tank at about 10 feet long.
Paddling out through the breaking waves is not easy your first time. The waves keep coming, breaking on you, in your face, pushing you towards the shore, while you’re trying to paddle through and beyond them. Paddling out is exhausting. After you get through the breaking waves, you’re in a calmer area, and wait for a good wave to come. Johnny gets you situated properly in the prone position on your board. When a good wave comes he tells you to paddle your ass off into the break zone, and when the wave begins breaking gives you a push to help. My first wave, I stood up briefly then lost balance and fell to the left almost before it had begun. After that, I stood up and surfed waves into the shore almost every other time, even carving to and fro on some of the waves. I was a natural!
We surfed for about an hour and a half and then we were all pooped out. We headed in. Lima is situated on the west side of the Andean mountain range, and therefore the beaches are all rather rocky. Playa Makaha, where the good waves are, is pretty much all rocks. Big rocks. When going into shore, hauling my huge surfboard out of the water, a rock shifted under my left foot and smashed my pinky toe. It hurt, but I have a pretty high tolerance for pain and wasn’t aware of the severity of it at first. Afterwards, my pinky toe swelled up and was all purple and red. I think I broke it, but am still not sure.
That night was a Friday, and I had plans to meet Katherine, the girl I met on my initial flight into Lima, to go out dancing. I met her at 9 at Parque Kennedy and we went out for dinner. She wanted to practice her English and I wanted to practice my Spanish, so the entire night she spoke mostly in English and I in Spanish. It was fun and I learned a good deal about usages of words that in a textbook mean one thing but are in conversation are used differently. She also taught me something about Peruvian culture. She was horrified when I ordered water as a drink with my dinner. Apparently in Peru, you never order water at a restaurant with a meal, it is somewhat disrespectful, only beer, wine, tea, or juice is to be had. Hmm I guess that is why I got weird looks from waiters a few times when having water with my dinner, who’d have known.
Afterwards, we walked around and talked, while waiting to go to discos. It was about 10:30 and was too early for a disco. In Lima, you don’t go to a disco until at least 11, but more often nearer to midnight, and then stay out until 4 or 5am (Marciniak would love this place). We eventually, went to a few discos and got our dance on. Katherine was surprised and impressed I could dance. She told me my dancing (elbows up yo!) was ‘funny.’ Men in Peru generally dance very conservatively, stepping their feet to the rhythm, but not moving around much beyond that. My dancing was more expressive, and therefore unique. She told me if I wasn’t dancing with her, a lot of other girls would likely find it more attractive than how the Peruvian men usually dance and would like to dance with me. Sounds good to me!
We would intermittently dance for several songs then go sit at a table to get a drink and rest. Over the course of course of the night we started dancing closer and closer, then grinding towards the end. After we were both exhausted, we left at about 3:30am. We walked back towards my hostel, holding hands and cuddling along the way. However, due to the fact that I was in a bunk bed in a 12 person dorm and she lived 30 minutes away with her mother, I couldn’t close the deal (fuck!). We made out in front of my hostel, then I her hailed a cab and we said goodbye.
I slept in really late the next day, then finally got my ass up, had breakfast and caught a bus at about 3pm to downtown Lima to do a bit more sight-seeing before I departed. In particular I wanted to take a bus tour up to the hills above Lima, to see the barrios and how the other half live. I also wanted to see the catacombs underneath downtown Lima. When I arrived at the Plaza de Armas, I asked around, but could not figure out how to find or take the bus tour up into the hills. It may have just been too late in the day. So, I found my way to the catacombs beneath Iglesia San Francisco, and went on a tour there.
Afterwards, I had an hour and a half or so to kill before heading back to Miraflores to have dinner with Phoebe, from the first walking tour I went out. I was wandering the streets of downtown Lima when I got myself into the first shady situation of my travels. On a busy street, I struck up a conversation with a lively old gentleman, Gerardo. We were sitting on a windowsill outside of a department store talking in a mix of Spanish and English. Then his friend showed up, Eduardo. He seemed nice and genuine enough, and was excited that Gerardo made friends with a gringo. Eduardo was a musician, saxophonist, and was playing a show later that night. They asked me if I wanted to have a drink with them, to which I agreed.
We went to the bar where Eduardo was to play his show later. Even though the two seemed legitimate and genuine enough, particularly Gerardo, my spidey senses were tingling and I was on high alert. I had my head on a swivel on the way into the bar examining the patrons and making sure I knew where the exit was. We headed upstairs to bar on the second story of a building and to a table on a balcony over a busy street. Seemed safe enough. Eduardo disappeared and came back with huge litre mugs of Pisco Sour. I waited for them to drink first, then Eduardo seemed to notice I was hesitant to drink mine, and said, “No hay una problema, todo es bien,” and took a drink out of my mug. I took a couple sips and was more at ease.
We discussed my family, Chicago, where they were from, etc and things were more at ease. They were excited to learn I had been in Iquitos and done ayahuasca as they had both done it in their youth. Eduardo told me I wasn’t getting the stresses right in my Spanish pronunciation and also mucking up the past tense, so proceeded to get a piece of paper and give me a Spanish lesson. He had lived in the US for 20 years, and he was also an English teacher in Peru, so was keen to help me out. After a while, another of their friends joined, and asked if they would buy him a drink. They said I was paying for the group, which I had not agreed to (1st red flag), and to ask me. I was having a pretty good time, getting a free Spanish lesson, and drinks in Peru are cheap, even these huge ones, so I agreed. Eduardo disappeared again, and came back with a 5 gram rock of cocaine, which I had expressed no interest in or asked for (2nd red flag), and tried to sell it to me repeatedly and I repeatedly turned it down.
It was a quarter to seven, and I had to go to catch a bus back to Miraflores for dinner. Eduardo summoned the waiter with the bill. I thought the bill said S./32 so I gave him 50 and asked for change. Then the waiter put the bill in my face and said, “Tres ciento veinte soles!” 320 soles. The scam was in. I started loudly saying, “Esto no es correcto!” and “Me mirra el menu!” This isn’t correct! Show me the menu! Gerardo was in shock and was on my side. He had no idea what was going on. This was all Eduardo’s scam. Gerardo asked to see the manager and went to look for the manager. I looked at Eduardo and said “Verdad Eduardo? Verdad?” Really, Eduardo? Really? He shrugged his shoulders and gave me a look saying ‘What do you expect, gringo?’ I grabbed my bag, pushed past the waiter, and followed Gerardo saying, “Donde esta el gerente?” Where is the manager? The waiter was now walking in front of me near Gerardo and as we passed the entrance of the bar, I darted through it down the stairs, hearing shouts behind me. I hit the pavement, took a right out the door and hurried down the street, still hearing shouting behind me. The street was busy with Saturday foot traffic, so I was able to disappear pretty easily. I kept checking my six all the way to the bus station, and was relieved once I was on the bus and it pulled away.
On the ride, I was laughing at myself, thinking I was lucky to get out of that for only S./50, about $16, with no other damage done. If anything I probably stiffed the bar as the huge drinks we’re probably realistically at least S./20 each. Good, they got what they deserved.
I got off the bus and hightailed it to Parque Kennedy to meet Phoebe. We went to eat at a nearby restaurant that was recommended by my hostel. I had anticucho, grilled beef heart, a dish that Katherine recommended to me because it is very popular in Peru. It was savory and flavorful, with hints of thyme and cumin throughout. We discussed her dissertation, life in London, and the approaching Brexit vote. Afterwards, we went out for a beer to a ‘traditional English pub,’ Phoebe thought it was funny that we came across a place like that in Lima, Peru, but said they actually did a good job making it seem authentic. We were getting along really well, and I was feeling attracted to her. Phoebe is a very lovely, elegant girl, but I was largely attracted to her intelligence. I’m pretty sure the feeling was mutual. Unfortunately, she dropped the ‘boyfriend’ bomb as we were about to leave, letting me know, and perhaps reminding herself, she has a boyfriend back in London (boooooo!). I walked her home, we took a picture together, and gave her a lingering kiss on the cheek as we said goodbye.
The next day I was Sunday. I moved from my hostel into an Airbnb about 10 blocks away. I was happy to get the fuck out of the party hostel where I hadn’t slept well in a week and was drinking too much. I planned to spend the day playing online poker tournaments and then get a good night’s rest before traveling to Huaraz, Peru the next day.
On the way to my Airbnb, I passed a large, brooding Caucasian man of about 50. As I passed he said something that sounded coarse, I couldn’t understand what he had, and I just waved my hand and said ‘No, gracias,’ trying to deny him whatever he wanted. After passing by him, I heard, “English? Do you speak English, Sir?!” from behind.
I turned around and engaged him. I had my two backpacks on and my tote bag full of groceries, so was a little weary. He explained that he was a German national who arrived in Lima two nights ago, and was promptly robbed of all his possessions by a taxi driver. He had spent the previous day at his embassy arranging to get a new passport and trying to get money wired over from Germany. Unfortunately, the wire would take several days, and it would take a week for the embassy to verify his identity and provide a stipend (see people this is why you need Bitcoin!). He was destitute and had spent the previous two nights sleeping in a park. It showed he had bags under his eyes and he looked haggard. I pulled out my money clip and gave him 50 Soles. I would have given him more, but didn’t have any more cash on me. His eyes puffed and it looked like he was about to cry. I think he wanted to hug me. “Don’t get too excited,” I thought, S./50 won’t go very far, certainly not enough to get him through a week. He asked if I wanted to exchange contact info so he could reimburse me and I told him not to worry about it. “God Bless!” he yelled after me as we parted.
I had never used an Airbnb before, but everything went smoothly and I had a great experience. Luigi, my host, was a younger Peruvian of about 27 who had a nice 3BR apartment, two of which he rented on Airbnb regularly, on the 9th floor of a building with gate and security. He buzzed me in, I went up in the elevator, we shot the shit for a while, then I made lunch and dinner for later in the kitchen. I got situated in my room for the grind. It was my first poker session in nearly a month. It felt good to be back on the grind, with my mind freshly cleaned in the jungle. I built a bunch of big stacks and had a bunch of deep runs, but they mostly fizzled out before the final tables. I made one final table early on, but lost a flip to finish 8th for only a few hundred bucks. I actually managed to win one tournament, but it was an $11 buy in tournament on Americas Cardroom, the smallest tournament of the day, and only won about $650. I had about $1300 in buy ins and cashed for about $1150, a small losing day. Sucks to have a losing day when I actually won a 300 person tournament! Oh well, it felt good to play and I had fun.
That night Peru played Brazil in the Copa America. I didn’t watch the game, but Peru won (on a controversial last minute goal), beating Brazil for the first time in a decade. The celebration was on in Lima. Fireworks and people honking the horns of the cars was going on until I don’t know what hour. Luckily, I had the earplugs from the hostel, but still didn’t get that great of rest due to all the celebrations.
The next day I got up, packed all my shit, made breakfast, then hit the street heading to the Terminal Terrestre bus station. Instead of taking a cab, I decided to test my mettle and use the public transportation system to get there. A bit of a risk considering it’s about a 30 minute cab ride away, and my bus was leaving in about an hour. I went to the public transport bus station and got on the express bus towards the Terminal Terrestre. After about 40 minutes, I got off at the right stop, but then had no idea where the Terminal was. I asked a lady selling empanadas, and bought one, then was able to find it about 5 minutes later. I checked in at my bus and was at my gate about 15 before the bus left. Mettle test passed.
I boarded the bus and settled into my $8 seat for the 6 hour trip to Huaraz, Peru.
Reality of Death