Lima - Peru photos

Lima was a bit of a mindblow. We stayed in Miraflores because we were told that central Lima is dangerous. On the way from the airport the eye was assaulted by a seemingly endless vista of poverty - broken down and dilapidated houses, shanty towns, masses of people, carbon-coughing congestions of traffic, a maze of wire entangled roads and big sandy cliffs staring blankly into a wall of rolling smoggy mist that should have been the sea. Then, miraculously beyond this emerged beautiful manicured lawns, flowers and a Lovers Park which consisted of a waving mosaic of colourful tiled walkways similar to what we expect to see in Gaudi’s park in Spain. Clearly, South Africa isn’t alone when it comes to massive poverty gaps and with this comes the security police and guards which were on most street corners and at the entrances to upmarket houses. What was, however, entirely foreign was that, after the crow’s eye-lid of night had concealed a bloodshot sun, the city suddenly transformed into an explosion of retina-burning neon colours and we had to check the date to be sure it wasn’t Christmas or New Years Eve. It turned out that Vegas has competition – Lima is full of casinos lit-up like glow worms to attract their apparently moth-like clientele.

In general the Peruvians were friendly, helpful and speak more English than the Chileans, but note the following footnote:

Tereza “I took Ricky’s advice and decided to be “more friendly”. So when the guy standing outside the local bakery asked whether we wanted to try some Peruvian dishes at a cheaper local restaurant, I jumped at the opportunity. Ricky was nervous – and I was friendly. Anyway, it turned out to be fine, but we had to pay him a tip for the good information and he did try to get some more money out of us by offering drugs!

Ricky “Fine! He was built like a brick shithouse and looked just like one of those South American thugs you see in the movies carrying crates of cocaine! And when he asked a question, you had the distinct impression you had to give the right answer if you wanted to avoid meeting your maker – the undertone reminded me of a Soprano’s Mafia boss asking an underling, ‘Don’t you trust me, huh!’ No wonder the security guard on the street corner carried a well oiled machinegun and had an itchy trigger finger!”

Safe to say, we politely declined the drugs and took great pains to avoid encountering our new “amigo” again.