Lima, Barranco, Chorrillos, and Y.M.C.A.

It’s about 9:30 am I resisting consciousness, the sun is has burned through my curtain of sleep and a seemingly endless barrage of horn blasts engage my consciousness, ensuring I can’t slip back into sleep. Someone washing dishes to the soothing sounds of Spanish pop. We’ll if I can’t sleep maybe I should wake Jen. We enjoyed a simple breakfast at the Red Psycho Llama Hostel, including jamon con queso e café con lache and the mysterious fruit, which looks as though it were a prehistoric reptilian heart. Its name is Chirimaya; and it’s yummy! Once through its protective armor it reveals succulent fruit. A musky pear but sweeter, its tissue is softer and caressed your mouth with its flavor.

Vicky and Fabi arrived to show us around Lima.  Our day was filled with touring around the bohemian neighborhood of Barranco, and Chorrillos, a community nestled by the sea.  A thin strip of land greets the ocean before imposing cliffs push into the sky. The cliffs are mostly barren of life but areas are partially covered in green vines with red and purple flowers. (I understand the vines are a recovery/preventative measure to beautify and protect the slopes from soil erosion and slides.)  Chorrillos was once a happening spot for a beach get away, but is now an upscale suburb of Lima and a popular beach for surfers. Stories of Mama Lola’s annual summer pilgrimages and the photos on display from the late 1930’s shows an elegant community. A powerful earthquake completely destroyed the town, Mama Lola remembers the date precisely but I didn’t write it down, I think she said May 24, 1940.

We drove by the home of Susanna Bacca, the singer. We visited a bar boasting 50 years in operation and was once the watering hole of many famous writers.  We visited Puente de los Suspiros ("Bridge of Sighs”). The name has a long history going back to a bridge in Venice named by Lord Byron in the 19^th. Century. The prisoner would be lead across the bridge to their execution, says the legend. Chabuca Grande, a famous Peruvian composer, wrote a song about the bridge.  She tells the story of the daughter of a wealthy man who fell in love with a street sweeper. She was forbidden to marry him and died a spinster. As you cross the bridge you can still hear her sighs as she stole glances of her beloved. For the record, I didn’t hear anything as we passed over. 

At the end of the bridge bronze statues stand tribute to Chabuca Granda’s most famous composition about Peru’s most famous Chalanes, Jose Antonio. Chalanes are the riders of the Peruvian Paso horses (dancing horses). “The Caballo de Paso Peruano is a cross between Spanish and Arabic breeds.” And their curious gate had been developed so they can step through the sandy terrain that blankets much of the Peruvian coast.

Chalanes traditionally wear a “Jipi Japa” hat a white scarf around his neck and a white Alpaca embroidered poncho.

After our touring we enjoyed a fantastic typical Peruvian lunch, at Casa de Pinillos and of course we had to have Pisco Sours al la Vicky.  One of my most favorite Latin traditions had to be observed after our fiesta, Siestas.

In the evening, 11:00pm Nestor, Vicky Fabi and Peter took us to, La Candelaria (Av. Bolognesi 292, 36), for an night of drinking dancing and good natured humiliation. (It’s a Peruvian tradition).  La Candelaria, shows traditional dance from Peru’s diverse regions and cultures. It’s also popular place to dance cumbia. The evening went like this: Arrive and quickly consume a strong pisco sour, Followed up with dos cervesa when the dancers put on their show. Now that I have a little liquid courage, I allow myself to be goaded into dancing.

 By the time we sit down again mas cervesa and food have appeared on our table. We enjoy more folk dance displays, then dance ourselves, more food and drink, repeat as required. Then it all changed. As part of the evening’s entertainment we and other visitors to Peru were called up to the stage for a contest. They asked us to represent our countries with our own traditional dances.  As the other countries performed one by one, Brazil, Columbia, Bolivia, we quickly realized we were out matched. More distressing, what is a traditional Canadian dance? The representative of Japan was requested to sumo wrestle and when he was too shy for that to karaoke, “I really hope they don’t ask us to sing!”  As we awaited our fate we read the writing on the back of the Canadian flag given us to identify our origin. Among other things it read: “if your reading this you’re about to DANCE!” finally to the hangman, paired with the Americans. So it was to be dance. And what dance did they choose to represent Canadian/American culture you ask. Y.M.C.A of course. I don’t know what’s worse, having to dance it or not remembering how it went. We didn’t win. Later the laughs kept coming as we where all instructed in some sexy Afro Peruvian dance moves. There are some things an Alberta boy just shouldn’t try. We arrive back home at the Red psycho Llama Hostel shortly after 3am.