Lima, Peru – Sep 2009

Lima itself is a sprawling urban jungle of contrasts – run down in parts and opulent in others. There is however one over-riding constant throughout (with few exceptions) – and that is the friendliness of the people.

This was typified by the owner of our first ‘home’ in Lima – the charismatic Quique, owner of the Blue House Hostel. The place has a really chilled vibe as soon as you get away from the tourism attack zone.

We had been warned that the arrival process in Lima would be something of a shock, with taxi drivers and tourism agents ambushing the arriving Gringos to pick up their business. We were subjected to a particularly stern examination as the taxi pickup our hostel owner had organised for us failed to show up.

Eventually giving up we chose a driver who’d managed to be persistent and helpful in equal amounts.

Driving through Lima soon had the adrenal glands pumping.

Initial observations on the driving methods yielded the following conclusions:

1. The lines on the road are for mostly decorative purposes only
2. The object of driving is simply to get in front of the car in front at any cost
3. Sidewalks, parking lots etc are to be considered part of the road at all time
4. Pedestrians have no rights. Ever.

The first imperative order of business after arriving at our hostel was to locate a vendor of beer to calm the nerves. Managing our first timid transaction, in what was frankly the worst Spanish to leave a Gringo’s mouth, left us with a warm happy glow. We had shelter and the tools to buy beer. Things were going to work out fine.

We drank our beer until late into the night with our new Argentinean friend and fellow guest Gustavo, gathering vital local intelligence for our upcoming visit.

We set out on a mission to explore our new surroundings after a predictably late start on Saturday morning.  Lima is a coastal city, and our hostel was located two blocks away from the steep bluff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

It was a long slog down to the pebbled beach, where we were instantly set upon by the legions of surf instructors. We were assured that today was the day we would stand up on a surfboard! Indeed, should we in any way fail to stand the cost of the lesson would be instantly refunded!

Employing the if-not-why-not policy, we duly returned at the appointed hour for our lesson. The theory was a formality quickly glossed over with three practice attempts at standing on a concrete block (if you can’t stand on a stationary block then you’ve probably got no place being on a surfboard).

Our kindly, wise and gnarly surfer teacher dudes morphed in the worst surf Nazis known to man as soon as we hit the water. Paddle, Paddle, PADDLE!!

Dee caught by far the worst of it staying closer to shore while Al was dragged out to bigger waves on the back line more suited to the larger man. The paddling was nearly the end of us both.

It’s not worth dwelling too much on who had more success on the day, but let’s just say that Al got the face plant of the day award while Dee actually managed to stand up a few times.

The El Sol Spanish School

Going back to school for the first time in over a decade had the two of us feeling a little nervous and unsettled. Would the other kids point and laugh ? Can everyone else already speak some Spanish, are we going to be the dunces of the class ?

Thankfully our fears were quickly put to rest. Our only class mate was a fellow South African girl called Sue who appeared just as nervous as we were. Our morning teacher Edison employed a “total immersion” method, which would probably have worked better if we actually understood what he was saying.  Thankfully Rosa (our teacher in the afternoon) put us all completely at ease and was more than happy to translate for us when we lost the plot.

Clearly one week of Spanish tuition is nowhere near enough to hold any meaningful conversations. It did however give us the basis for some functional communication which we can continue to build upon.

Far more important were the friends we made doing it – classmate Sue was staying with a Norwegian guy called Nicholas at a Peruvian family’s house.  Nicholas is Ewan McGregor’s evil twin, if you doubt us then see the pictures below !

We had planned a quiet celebration for the Friday that school finished, a quiet dinner somewhere nice and a few beers would round off the week nicely.  Things were going mostly to plan until we found ourselves in “Pizza Alley”, a Gringo alley filled with restaurants and bars.

One more beer before heading home turned into a few, Nicholas starting to get warmed up for a biggy. A disco seemed like the only viable option once the beer supply was abruptly cut off at midnight. To cut a long story short, we ended up leaving the disco at 7am Saturday morning after an eventful night !

Our plans to leave for the jungle town of Iquitos later in the day now in ruins, the only thing left to do was sleep the rest of the day (although Al did pull through to watch the Boks win the Trinations, quite weird watching rugby at 8am with a beer but hey?!)

P.S. We know we’re behind on blog entries, working hard to catch up !

P.P.S Don’t forget to check out the travels of Duckee album for some frankly shocking photos of the little fella ! Here are some snippets.