Hit Me Lima One More Time - Our Trip Concludes

[For the full Peru experience, scroll down to the first Peru entry and work your way up]


Jay and I, Before Going To Peru

We were different men from the ones we were when we first arrived in Peru, fifteen long days ago. We now knew how to ward off street peddlers ("No gracias, Tenemos"). We now knew how much a cab cost from the airport (30 soles... not $30 dollars). Our faces were now outlined in thick, uneven beards, our muscles were toned and refined from intensive high altitude hiking. Our lungs were... ok, you get the point.

We had been through a lot by the time we came back to Lima. And we were the better for it.

Our last night in Peru was both remarkably similar and markedly different from our first. We were in Lima, staying at the Inka Lodge. But this time, we shared a room. I asked the old man at the front desk who we'd be rooming with, where were they from?

"They're Columbians," he replied.

So this is how you punish us for keeping you up all night, I thought to myself. Sticking us with a couple coke smugglers.

But while initially we thought we might have to lock up our bags, in fact, the two Columbian guys staying with us were incredibly nice. We had a good discussion about the girls in South America. Our roommates had a strong opinion: "Peruvian girls are the ugliest in South America, Columbian girls are the most beautiful."

Jay and I didn't believe Peruvian girls were the ugliest, but had little basis for comparison. "Gisele is nice," I said.


Is Tom Brady Really Dating Her Now? After Bridget Moynihan?? What's He Got That I Don't???

"She's from Brazil. They're beautiful too," the Columbian guy replied. "But in Columbia, they're more beautiful."

I'll admit, the most I know about Columbia is what I learned in the Harrison Ford movie "Clear and Present Danger." But I may be willing to risk being blown up by a drug cartel if what our Columbian roommates said is true.

Jay and I went out for Chinese food (chifa). Lima allegedly has the largest chinese population in South America, but I can guarentee you that none of them took any part in preparing our meal-- it was truly gross.

But it was funny when our waiter found out we were from the United States. He rushed over with a newspaper and excitedly pointed at the front page. There was Saddam Hussein.

"Saddam esta muerto."

We had heard about Saddam's demise previously, but I don't think I realized till that moment what a huge deal it was. (I wouldn't find out what a amateur job the execution was until I got home.)

After dinner, Jay and I headed to the Marriott Casino Hotel. "We're going to go home with more money than we started," I said to Jay. "Hey, If we win big enough, we can stay at the Marriott tonight," Jay replied.


It's No Inka Lodge...

Before we sat down at the blackjack table, I sunk a dollar into a slot machine. "If I don't win at all, I'm not gambling," I said.

After a few pulls of the lever, I left empty handed.

"Let's hit up the blackjack tables," I said.

Five minutes after sitting down, I was down $50. And that didn't include the $20 Jay lent me that I promptly lost. Jay, on the other hand, was cruising. He was up about $90. He was even thinking about joining the high rollers at the poker table.

While I was losing my money, and Jay was winning his, we ordered free drinks. A couple Whiskys and Sprites. We had four each. By the time we left, Jay was still up by $60, and we were both feeling pretty buzzed. We wanted to head back to the main street in Miraflores, where we had gone to the salsa bar on our first night. But we didn't know the name.

So when we got into the cab, we tried to describe the street to him. "Muchos discoteques, Muchos bares, Muchos bailandos y fiestas, Muchas muchachas bonitas."

"Si, si," said the cab driver.

After the cab turned down some dark streets, Jay and I started to wonder where the guy was taking us. We had heard that some parts of Lima were not as nice as Miraflores... and it appeared we were in those parts now.

The cabbie pulled up to a club. A strip club. Nothing else around but dark buildings for as far as we could see. Two men in dark suits and glasses standing at the entrance.

"Uh... no. No aqui," we tried to tell the cabbie.

"Si, aqui. Tu pagas." The cabbie demanded we pay and get out.

Jay and I looked at each other. On one hand, a strip club could be fun. On the other hand, considering how shady the place was, it could also end with both of us getting our organs removed.

Mabel!

Luckily, I still had Mabel's number, the girl I met our first night in Peru. I called her up and explained the situation. "Put me on with the cab driver," she said.

I handed the cabbie the phone. He did not look happy. But he finally understood where to take us. We gave him a few extra soles for his trouble, but probably not as many as he would have gotten kicked back from that strip club.

We bumped into a group of California students who were staying at our hostel. We went with them to a bar, got some drinks, danced a bit. One hot chick seemed like she was into Jay, but then she said she had a boyfriend. We decided to get out of there and head someplace else.

On the street, Jay went back into his Cusco-coca-tea-crazy mode and began mimicking the people who stood outside the various bars, pitching free drinks and deals. "Free Pisco Sours," one woman called out, and Jay immediately turned to two Peruvian girls who were walking by us. "Free Pisco Sours! You girls want free pisco sours? Y bailando?"

The girls spoke three words of english, but they understood "Pisco Sour" and "Bailando." We went inside the bar, the bartender gave us our free Pisco sours, and we danced to 80's videos projected onto a big white screen. Jay's girl was pretty hot and he was enjoying himself. I, in my wingman role, was less enthused. But what the hell, when in Peru...

The time came when we wanted to leave, so we picked up our stuff and headed for the door-- where we were stopped by the bartender. "Tienes que pagar por los bebes," he demanded. We had to pay for our Pisco Sours.

Now, the woman at the door said "Free Pisco Sours." And Jay and I argued this. But the bartender wouldn't budge. There were, apparently, conditions attatched to the free Pisco Sour offer. We were required to purchase other drinks as well. The woman at the door had neglected to inform us of the fine print.

Jay and I were still arguing when a bouncer and a security guard/policeman came over. Now things were getting serious. We couldn't understand them, they couldn't understand us. The girls were no help at all, telling us to just pay. And the fact that both Jay and I were wasted probably didn't help.

Seconds away from being led off to jail, we agreed to pay. But we were both pissed. Ripped off on that first cab from the airport, ripped off on the Lake Titicaca tour, ripped off at our hotel in lake titicaca-- now we were ripped off here. Had we learned nothing?? After two weeks, had we remained the same chumps we were in the beginning?

The girls lived close by, so we walked them home. We could have taken them to our hostel, but we didn't know if the Columbian guys would be there (turns out, they didn't come back until 5 am). Jay got a kiss goodnight from his second Peruvian girl of the trip.

Drunkenly, we stumbled into a McDonalds, got some Big Macs and ice cream. Jay dropped his ice cream after barely a lick. Somehow, we made it back to the hostel. Not bad for a last night. Tomorrow, we'd catch a cab to the airport at 8 PM.

The next day, we decided we should actually do something touristy. So we went to the Museo De Oro, The Gold Museum, billed as the most impressive in Lima. We were more impressed with the attached Weapons Museum, with guns, swords and uniforms from warfaring countries all over the world. The gift shop also had stunningly cheap souveneirs, which we stocked up on.

From there, we took a cab into central Lima for lunch. There was a street directly across from the palace, across the square, that was lined with cafes and restaurants. All of them offered competing prix fixe lunches. We sat down at the one that looked the best, ordered some fried yuca and a menu that consisted of ceviche (national dish of peru), baked chicken with a pink tomato sauce, rice and potatoes. Only 10 soles each.


Ceviche, Lima's Famous Dish

Traveler's Tip: Ceviche is a white fish marinated in lime juice, accompanied by onions, sweet potato, and corn. Eat it only in Lima and other coastal towns, where the fish is fresh.

It was a warm day, and Jay and I debated going to the beach. Finally, we decided we'd try to get into the Marriott rooftop pool. We could lie out on the roof deck, maybe go for a swim. The only question was, could we get in? Would there be public access, or would we need a Mission Impossible-style plan to get past security?

We stepped into the elevator, wearing swimsuits and carrying our towels. So far so good. We went up to floor 6, the health club level.

"Can I help you?" the woman at the desk asks.

"Yes, um.. where is the pool?"

"Right through those glass doors and to your left," she answers.

We look. We can almost smell the pool. But those glass doors are closed, and next to them is a key card reader.

"Do you have the key?" Jay asks loudly.

"Oh shoot, I don't. Dave has it."

"Oh man. I can't believe you forgot it."

We look around, no one offers to help.

"Well, I guess we'll have to find Dave."

We walk back to the elevator, dejected.

"There's got to be another way."

We go back downstairs, get the lay of the land. I ask the consierge where the pool is. "The sixth floor," he replies. "But the best way is through the health club."

The best way. So there is another way! "Sixth floor, right?" I ask.

"Sixth floor."

We head back to the elevator. This time, however, we get out at the second floor lobby. There's another bank of elevators there... which lead to the other side of the sixth floor. Pool deck baby, here we come!

We step into the elevator, along with another man. Immediately, we see we're screwed. The elevator requires a key card too. My heart sinks.

Then, the man swipes his key card. "What floor?" he asks.

"Six," Jay and I say in unison.

The door shuts, we head up. How about that for timing!?

The elevator stops at six, we get out. Almost there!! But then, we're confronted with another obstacle. Two glass doors. On the other side, we see the pool deck. But the doors are locked. The only way to get through? You guessed it. A key card.

Just then, a family, three little kids and their mother and father, walk down the hall. They put their key card in, the doors open. We walk in behind them. How about that for timing?!


The Pool Was Too Cold To Swim In

The pool deck was the best thing we could have done. Relaxing and quiet (that family was the only other group on the pool deck that afternoon). We laid down in the cushy lounge chairs and took a nap, listening to the ocean waves crash in the distance. At around 5:30, the sun started to go down and we were treated to the most beautiful sunset.


One Of A Dozen Pictures I Took

As the sun set, a still, tiny light emerged from the gathering darkness. As I lay on my lounge chair, facing the ocean, I could see it's orange, eerie glow peek out from underneath an overhanging roof, far in the distance. Jay saw it as well.

"Do you see what I see?" he asked.

"I do."


Where Dreams Come True

So it came to pass that on our final night in Peru, we ate at Hooters. While the meal was terrible, and they only had xtra-large t-shirts for sale, at least we could say we'd had a genuine Peruvian experience.

Before going Hooters, we made the mistake of hitting up the casino again. I lost twenty more dollars. Jay lost his $60. We left our hearts in Lima, and our wallets as well.

At the airport, we made some more Peruvian friends at Papa Johns when Jay tried to pay for water in Bolivianos. Who knows? An extra day in Peru and both Jay and I might have been married to Peruvian chicks. But alas, it was not meant to be.

On our flight home, I watched Little Miss Sunshine. If that doesn't win something at the Oscars I'll be very disappointed.


Us With One Of The Jersey Locals

And that was our trip. Peruvian girls and Carne Corazon. Seven hour hikes and paddle boat rides. Macchu Picchu and floating islands. Beautiful vistas and powerful pisco sours. Fifteen days in a country where everyone calls you "mi amigo." The trip of a lifetime.

Next year, Columbia.

Day 2: Getting High in Cusco, Llamas, And Carne Corazon



We spent the next day walking around Lima. Saw the changing of the guard (i swear, its the same boring ceremony everywhere). Drank Pisco Sours at the Gran Hotel Bolivar (best drink in town). Lost some money in the Hotel Sheraton casino (and smoked some Cubans). At night, we met up with Mabel and her other friend and went Salsa dancing again, this time until 2:30. Then we slept about a half hour before getting picked up by the taxi driver for the ride back to the airport (not only did he show up, but he slept in his car outside our hostel to make sure he'd be on time-- great service for $20).

I passed out before the plane took off. Next thing I knew, we were landing in Cuzco, (elevation 11,150 ft), former capital of the Incan Empire. The second we got off the plane, I was suffocating. The air up there is so thin, you have to remind yourself to breathe twice as deep or you start getting a pounding headache. Even walking a couple steps makes you feel tired and nauseous. You feel bloated and gassy. Now I know how Rosie O'Donnell feels everyday (I'm trying to get this blog sponsored by Trump).

We get to our hostel and the woman who works there tries to get us to fill out forms, but realizes we're too tired and lets us pass out in our room. We wake up around noon, still not feeling that refreshed. The woman, who introduces herself as Vicki, gives us Coca Tea, made from the same leaves as cocaine. Despite fearing that I'll start becoming really annoying and talkative (seriously, does coke make anybody NOT act like an asshole?), I drink the tea because it's supposed to help with altitude sickness. It just makes me tired, but Jay immediately perks up (later he'd be offering strangers massages in Cuzco's central square).

Traveler's Tip: Coca Tea does not cure altitude sickness ("soroche" in spanish). It may however, make you tired and/or loopy.

Beggars are everywhere in Cuzco. Ranging from those simply standing with their hands out to those wearing traditional outfits and charging for photographs. There are also people everywhere offering massages, selling watercolor paintings and postcards.

You can also buy some pretty cheap mittens, scarves and hats... useful at Cuzco's altitude. Less useful? A shoeshine, offered by several local boys.

Kid: "Sir, I shine your shoes?"

Me: "I'm wearing sneakers."

Kid: "International Suede, we shine"

Me: "Um... these are New Balances"

Kid: "Si, International Suede. Yes, yes. I shine."

Me: "Um... No, Gracias."

Ah yes. Those two magic words. No, Gracias. The first Spanish phrase we said with any conviction. If you go to Peru, you'll probably be saying it alot. So practice!

Travelers Tip: "No, Gracias" is good, but there are other ways of politely refusing the services and/or good of a Peruvian street peddler:

"No para mi, gracias" - the addition of "For me" is a classy, more Spanish way of saying No thank you.

"Tengo" or "Tenemos" - These came in real handy for us. Literally "I have" and "We have." Like when someone offers you the same gray alpaca sweater you've seen in 3 cities, you can say "Tengo. No gracias." Overuse, though, of this verb will lead people to call you a liar (the verb "miente.")

"No Me Gusta" or "No quiero" - A little less polite, but somewhat effective. Means "I don't like it." and "I don't want it," respectively.

Finally, there's "No entiendo," which means "I don't understand." For this to work, you usually need to pretend you don't understand Spanish or English, and you're blind.

We get some lunch at Patiti, a nice enough place on the Plaza De Armas. We order llama steak. It tastes like really lean beef, by which I mean, is not as good as real steak. We then step outside and take a picture with a woman holding a baby llama.



I give the woman two soles. But as Jay takes the picture of me, a woman sneaks up behind and gets in the photo too. She wants two soles too. Now, she wasn't the one with the llama, but I'm not about to argue over 66 cents. But I only have a 5 sole coin. "Tiene cambio?" I ask. I assume that means "Do you have change?"

"Si."

So I give her the five sole. She fishes around, gives me two sole back. I look at her. She looks at me.

Fine. Take the damn extra sole. I feel bad though that I didn't give an extra sole to the llama lady, who's gone off somewhere else.

We walk around a bit more... catch some of a Cuzco basketball game (basketball, from what I can tell, seems to be the second most popular sport after soccer in Peru). Visit the office of the group we'd be trekking with, Jay makes a friend with one of the local boys by giving him cream filled cookies he bought earlier at a bakery in town.

Something else we see people selling on the street are tickets. Curious, we ask what they're for. Turns out, tonight, in Cuzco, is the national championship soccer game between Cuzco and Lima. After checking with our hostel that the tickets sold on the street are legit, we purchase a pair. I never went to a soccer game in the States, or anywhere else, so I'm really excited. We buy Cuzco soccer jerseys for about $4.50 each.

That night, we go to the stadium. The streets around are filled with people. Lines snake into the stadium from everywhere. We have no idea where to go. Luckily, we spot the only other foreigners in the crowd, and they direct us where to go. We're practically pushed into the stadium by security, and as we enter through the gate, the roar of the crowd gets louder and louder. We emerge into the glow of the stadium lights, and the scene is wild. People jumping up and down everywhere. Red flares being set off. A brass band is playing a marching song. The concrete stands seem to have no order, people are jammed in everywhere. We see an open space and sit down, but are immediately yelled at in Spanish by everyone behind us. Fortunately, a kind Peruvian man takes pity on us, and, without a word, guides us to the foot of the concrete bleachers, where he sits us down. Every so often, someone would try and sit down in the space in front of us, and people would go crazy-- because, as we saw now, they'd be blocking the view of the field. Eventually, we join in, yelling nonsense at whoever tries to creep in front.

Some action here:


At halftime, a woman comes around with a white bucket full of beef skewers w/ a potato speared on top. They're sellin like hotcakes. People are throwing money at her. Jay and I decide--sure, why not? When in Peru...

We start chowing down. It's pretty good! A little tough, but grilled in a spicy sauce. Well worth the 3 soles (1 buck) we spent.



It was to be, possibly, the worst mistake we made all trip.

As the woman walks away, she starts shouting, hawking her food. "Beef Corazon! Beef Corazon!!!"

The word "corazon" strikes me. In my head, my brain digs through several drawers of dusty files before it locates the one bearing the manila folder from high school spanish class. Slowly the folder opens, and it takes only a few pages to thumb through before the word "corazon" is found, emblazoned in bold letters...

CORAZON = HEART

We were eating beef hearts. Cow heart to be exact.

"Hmm," I said. "Well, when in Peru..."

Somewhere inside my stomach, alarms began to blare. It wouldn't be long before Peruvian Food-Bourne Bacteria had its way with both of us. For the next week of the trip.

The Cusquenos won, 1-0, setting themselves up nicely for the second part of the championship match, which would take place in Lima two days later. The mood outside the stadium was celebratory. The streets were lined with people making soup, cooking chicken and selling team merchandise. It was a Peruvian tailgate party.

We went to bed that night feeling pretty good. The next day, we planned to take a tour of the Sacred Valley around Cuzco (only 19 bucks each). Little did we know, that as we slept, the Osama Bin beef corazon was already beginning its campaign of terror...

Night 1: Lima

And the trip begins. Jay and I meet at Penn Station and catch the NJ Transit train to Newark Airport. When we get to the terminal, we're directed to a long line leading up to a row of about 10 check-in desks. Number of people staffing the desks? Two.

It doesn't help that at one of the desks, a family decides now is the perfect time to repack their suitcase. We all wait while they move socks from one bag to another.

Traveler's Tip: Arrive 2 hours before your flight when traveling internationally, because other people are slow idiots and the airport is ridiculously understaffed

Meanwhile, Jay comments on the absurdity of the woman "sweeping up" the terminal floor. She's got a little dustpan and a broom, and appears to be sweeping up absolutely nothing. Geez. Promote the woman and put her behind one of the check-in desks so we can get to our gate already!

Turns out we had no need to rush. We sit on the plane for over an hour before it takes off. We were supposed to get into Lima around 11 PM. Now its looking like midnight. Well, straight to bed for us when we get to Peru... right??

Flight's pretty uneventful. We arrive, take some pictures in front of the "Welcome To Peru" sign. None of which later come out.

We've read all the warnings in the guidebook about not trusting cabs that pick you up outside the airport in Peru. So when we're approached by an official looking person in the terminal who asks if we have a hotel and if need a cab, we follow them. They set us up with a nice cabbie, who offers to drive us to our hostel for the discount price of $20. He'll even pick us up for our flight to Cusco the next day, at 3:30 am! What a nice guy!

Traveler's Tip: Cabs from the Lima Airport to the Inka Lodge Hostel cost 35 soles (peruvian currency)... about $11.75.

We get to our hostel at 1 am. It looks a little sketchy from the outside, and we wonder how it could have been rated #2 hostel in South America. There's no sign, and you need to hit the doorbell and be buzzed in. But then we're greeted warmly by the owner, a nice little gray haired man who looks as if he's in his mid-sixties. The place is clean, we have a huge private double room, cable TV and air conditioning. Internet is free. Not too shabby for $12 dollars each a night.

I go online briefly, and write the following entry:

Jay and I have arrived safely in our hostel in Lima, Peru. We have a day here, manana, and then we fly to Cusco. We either booked a taxi for Saturday´s return to the airport, or agreed to have our organs removed. We think (hope) it´s the first thing. Our Spanish is improving with every minute (¨minuto¨ in espanol).

More to come. Stay tuned

Immediately after... me and Jay decide, "What the hell, its our first night in Peru... lets get a drink." We ask the man at the hostel where to go. We vaguely understand his instructions and head off.

That's when things get interesting...

We walk a few blocks and spy the Hotel Doubletree. Through the windows we can see a bunch of Peruvians dancing and drinking, looks like a fun party. We figure it's a wedding celebration or something. We decide to go in.

We head up to the bar on the balcony overlooking the party, order some cervesas and some appetizers, fried yucca (a type of potato) and some fried cheese. Just as we're stuffing our faces, one of the girls on the floor below starts looking up at Jay. Jay gives her a little wave. She motions for him to come down. Another girl comes over and waves at us too.

Me: "Jay, we should go down there."

Jay: "You think?"

Me: "We're on vacation, we're in Peru, anything goes."

Jay: "Ok, but lets finish the yucca first."

We head down, and the girls introduce themselves as Mabel and Daniella. Mabel speaks great English, and explains that this is her company Christmas party. She works for a large international phone company, fielding customer calls from Spanish speaking countries. Mabel and Daniella then proceed to introduce us to every single one of their coworkers.

"Can you imagine if you're at your company Christmas party, and these girls you work with introduce these strange foreigners to everybody?" Jay says.

I agree it's a little odd. But, as we came to find out, Peru is a very friendly country.

"Would you like to dance?" Mabel asks me.

"Sure."

We all head out to the dance floor, which plays about half a song before the DJ calls it quits for the night. "We could go somewhere else to dance," Mabel says.

"Why not," me and Jay say, almost simultaneously.

After saying goodbye to everyone we just met, we follow Daniella and Mabel out. They just have to call their parents first. We stand on the street by a pay phone. Given the stereotypes of South America, me and Jay are pretty sure things can't possibly be going this well, and that we're certain to be drugged and kidnapped, only to wake up hours later in an icy bathtub with missing kidneys. But, fortunately for us, the girls lead us to a busy bar and club lined street and take us into a salsa club. We order some beer, dance some salsa, and eventually leave only when the music stops around 4 am. We kiss the girls goodnight, me and Jay stumble back to the hostel,
hit the doorbell, wake up the poor old hostel manager at 4:15 am, and collapse into bed.

It's only night one, and me and Jay already have Peruvian girlfriends.



What a country!!