We started the day early with a bus tour of Lima, arranged by our son-in-law. Lima is an amazing place with pre-Incan pyramids in the middle of neighborhoods, four hundred year old cathedrals and Spanish palaces still in use, and an American embassy, naturally, that is deliberately larger than the Presidential palace. Although the palace does have guards, lots of them, with machine guns. There are also horse guards with swords…sort of useless, I fear, against the machine gun, but that is true of most of the history of Peru. The guys with the little ‘male member’, to quote my friend Roxie, have all the big guns. The guys who are the real men have no guns and a code of honor. So it goes.
One reason the Incans were wiped out was because the Inca (who is a person, not a group) told his soldiers not to harm the Spanish visitors. The Spanish, those of the little male member, had guns and decided to attack. They surrounded the Inca, preventing him from giving his guys permission to kill the invaders, so the Incan soldiers followed orders and were slaughtered. Oh, and of course there were the usual assortment of nasty European diseases to wipe out the rest of them. Wonder what Nuremburg would do with that one? Gives new meaning to “only following orders,” doesn’t it?
We toured the central area of Lima, an area we have been warned not to go alone as gringas. There is an amazing hotel, Hotel Bolivar, facing a statue of, yep, Bolivar. I believe this is the place my parents stayed when revolution broke out and there were executions in the square. The hotel used to be called Palace of the Dead but nobody wanted to stay there so now it is the Bolivar. I’ve heard it has the best Pisco Sours but who wants to drink at 10 am? Okay, I heard some of you say you did but no! You may not! That is just wrong! You must wait until lunch time.
This was followed by a tour of the Franciscan cathedral and the catacombs. Oh, dem bones. Little caves, small halls, low ceilings, a claustrophobe’s hell. And graves and graves and graves of bones. Rich folks had niches, and tombs, etc., but the poor went in the hole, so to speak, in this case a huge round mass grave full of bones. They used lime, so it doesn’t smell, for which I am eternally grateful.
After seeing miles of Moorish inspired tiles, about a zillion balconies (very big in Peru…not in size but in importance), and a Virgin who has 365 outfits and is dressed each day, we returned to a park named after a president I actually liked: Kennedy Park. It is so embarrassing to be out of the country and to have to learn to say “mi no gusto el Presidente Americano”. And have EVERYONE agree with you. Jenny also knows how to say he is evil and a robber and everyone agrees with her, too. How low our country has fallen, and the execution of Saddam Hussein just drags us further to the level of those who live by the sword.
We ate a lunch of Chife, sort of Chinese-Peruvian food. It was good, but different. Siesta time!
Caitlin and Felipe came for us about 4:30 and we went to the Indian Market with his grandmother. With Abuela Pilar and Felipe doing the bargaining, we got some great prices on jewelry, textiles, and other fun things. Not that anything is very expensive here. Our apartment costs $30 a night with bedroom, kitchen, living room and dining room. An apartment is around $100 a month or so. Think about retiring here if you like friendly people, tropical climate, want to extend those pension dollars, and want to speak Spanish.
My Spanish is improving by leaps and bounds. It helps that I am not afraid to jump in and make a fool of myself. My theory is that if you choose the right verb, conjugating it properly is irrelevant. People still know what you mean and will help you. And charades can be fun. Our tour today was in both Spanish and English and I was surprised to find that I understood a great deal of the Spanish. Granted, I’m not ready for law school in Spanish but I don’t want to be a lawyer anyway. Too much arguing.
But I can order food that is NOT Mexican, I can dicker for bargains, I can talk about my family and ask people about theirs, I can find my way around, read signs and some other information, and basically survive in Spanish. All in one week. Pretty good, huh?
After Abuela Pilar saved us many dollars by getting the Peruvian price on things, we went to this great park overlooking the ocean. The park, it turns out, sits on top of a huge mall which is built into the side of a cliff overlooking the sea where we sat outside on a gigantic patio in the Peruvian equivalent of the food court. We ate anticucho (beef heart), chicken, papa relleno (Stuffed potato) and drank chicha, a corn drink that tastes sort of like grape juice but not as sweet. We did not drink the alcoholic chicha, just the regular kind. But I hope to bring home a bottle of Pisco for making Pisco Sours.
Now we are safely in our apartment, at about 9:15, totally ready to sleep. We fly out around midnight tomorrow so only have one more day to enjoy this country. But so far we have not been robbed, raped, ravaged, or too drunk to move. I may work on the last on the plane but only if they serve Pisco Sour. Or I may just take sleeping pills. Either way, we will be home soon.
Also, keep the photojournalist kidnapped this week in your prayers. He is a good friend of Felipe’s father and Felipe also knows him well. Cristobal, Felipe’s dad, is a photojournalist who works in war zones and he did call yesterday to say he was okay. But this world is a scary place right now and a lot of it sits right in our collective American pocket. Pray that Cris’s friend is returned safely. And for all the troops and people on both sides of this quagmire. If you really need to work on forgiveness, as I do, pray for our President as well.
Did I mention that Senator Harry Reid, our new Senate majority leader, is in Cusco for a fact finding mission at Machu Pichu? Flew into Cusco in a big United States of America jet. Maybe he’s the reason the palace in Lima is surrounded by machine guns.
A Dios!
Susie and Jenny
Vicarious Travel 
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