An American Abroad

The Places I Haven’t Been

I’m lucky. I’ve had the privilege of international travel. That’s something that’s been denied to much of the world’s populace.

Some people are denied the pleasures of travel by law. My American passport is powerful talisman that allows me to travel almost anywhere in the world. Other countries’ passports are not so mighty.

Some people can’t afford to travel. Oh, there are far more expensive obsessions, but having the travel bug requires disposable income and the ability to take time away from their jobs. Not everyone has that.

Some people have obligations that prevent them from traveling. If you’re taking care of a child or an elderly family member and no one else can shoulder those obligations, you’re stuck.

And some people don’t travel for purely internal reasons. This is especially true of Americans. They’ve been taught to fear the people in the next village or the foreign country. Or the spark of curiosity and the tinder of imagination haven’t come together inside them. This can be the most stubborn impediment to travel, because it can’t be cured by simply giving people a passport, some money, or a helping hand with their family obligations.

I’m a travel evangelist and addict. The more I travel, the more I want to–and the more I encourage others to do so. When I’m flying home from a trip, I pick up an in-flight magazine and page to the back where the maps are and start thinking about where I could go next. Not long ago, a friend showed me how I could make my own travel map. So I did.

Maps like these are marketed as a way to visualize all the countries you’ve visited, but I look at them the other way around. This is a map that shows (in red) all the countries I haven’t been to yet.

Here’s an interactive version:


Of course, this Mercator projection exaggerates the size of countries in the northern and southern quarters of the globe. A projection that was more faithful to the actual relative areas of different countries would show that there’s even more of the world I haven’t been to. And of course, countries are artificial and arbitrary ways of dividing up the world. If there were a map that simply showed the municipalities I’d visited, the map would be a sea of red spattered with a few hundred blue dots.

People who are thought to be “well-traveled” usually have seen a small percentage of the big wide world. Keeping that in mind make travel both a humbling and frustrating thing to do. No one’s seen the whole world. But that shouldn’t stop us from trying.

Goodnight Miraflores

On my last night in Peru, I wandered the length of Avenida Jose Larco from the sea to Parque Kennedy. I started at the Larcomar shopping plaza, a handsome Miraflores shopping complex perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the Pacific.

There I visited a gallery that was hosting an exhibition of photographs staged by the World Press Association. This being news photography, the photos tended toward the sad and disturbing, but there was much to learn from their composition. So much of photojournalism, it seems to me, is about knowing when the perfect split second is about to occur.

Elsewhere in the complex was a mixture of shops and restaurants of American, European, and Peruvian brands.

It was nearly dark when I left Larcomar and headed north. The darkness didn’t stop a utility worker from repairing some underground lines.

I passed by the usual parked motorcycles, fruit stands, apartment buildings, and convenience stores on my way to Parque Kennedy.

It was bicycle night at the park. I saw about a hundred cyclists queued up and waiting to ride around the city. Miraflores has bike lanes, curbed on both sides and painted red, that make bicycling around safe and easy. You can see one on the right side of the picture below.

Around the perimeter of the park were restaurants, cafés and stores where people indulged in less vigorous pursuits.

The public chess games, while less vigorous than bicycling, were definitely more intense. The two guys in the foreground were playing speed chess and completed half a game in the time it took me to take pictures of them.

When the hour got late, I walked back down Avenida Jose Larco to my hotel. I hadn’t taken a trip like this in three years, one where I’d spent eight days in two different parts of a country or region, explored UNESCO World Heritage Sites and ordinary street life, been out in the country and in the thick of a major city. Peru felt like a return to a life I love. It seemed like going home.

Miraflores: Faces on the Bus

I’m fascinated by the glimpses I get of people as they pass by me on buses, trains, and subways at night. There’s a freeze-frame view of another human who inhabits the same planet I do and then that person is gone from my gaze forever. The people are lit as if on stage, characters in a stop-action play.

Maybe I’m a transit voyeur.

In the Miraflores neighborhood of Lima, I tried to capture some of what I saw. Buses are common and crowded there, so there’s no shortage of subject matter. Unfortunately, my visual reach exceeds my photographic grasp. I’ve got to work on my technique. But I write my blog as much for myself as for other people. It’s a notebook of ideas, some of which I later turn into better things. So here are the results of my most recent photographic experiments.

Lima Centro: Plaza de Armas

During my stay in Lima, I fell in love with Miraflores, Barranco, and the Parque de la Reserva. However I felt less passionate about the Plaza de Armas, the main square in the center of Lima. Though the Cathedral Basilica of Lima, the Municipal Palace, and the Archbishop of Lima’s Palace are nice old buildings, none of them are examples of amazing architecture.

The way buildings and other features are arrayed around the plaza seems haphazard. The space looks unfocused and visually incoherent. Trees, flagpoles, streetlights, and a fountain add too many vertical elements to the square. Less would have been more.

I found more appealing things to look at in the side streets. On one pedestrian mall, the Lima Municipal Band was playing lively dance numbers. People (mostly older folks) were dancing in the street. And I just loved the fact that Lima has a municipal band. I thought of my parents, both of whom played in bands in high school and beyond. My father played the baritone horn while my mother was a very accomplished trombonist. They would have loved hearing what I heard.

One of the side streets dead-ended into the Casa de Correos y Telegrafos. It must have been inconceivable to the people who built this back in 1897 that letters and telegrams would be well-nigh obsolete 120 years later.

I also wondered if rendering a mail slot as a lion’s open mouth was really the best symbol for the Peruvian postal system. People want their letters delivered, not devoured. Still, it was pretty cool.

The streets around Plaza de Armas were the only places in Peru where I saw government security forces on display. I don’t know whether this is a regular occurrence. Three months before I arrived, Peru’s president was forced to resign in a corruption scandal and was replaced by the former vice-president. Perhaps that ripple of political instability prompted greater vigilance. Or maybe this is just a sad feature of the world we now live in.

On a happier note, there was a fine-looking bookstore nearby. I’ve remarked before on how many bookstores there are in Lima. Their presence always makes me think well of a city.

Of course, bodegas, street vendors, and convenience stores are common too.

Lima Centro certainly gave me the opportunity to indulge in some of my photographic obsessions: motorcycles and bicycles. They tell me stories about the place and the people who inhabit it.

I strolled through the arcades that ring the Plaza de Armas. And I wondered when I would return.

Meet The Beetles (of Peru)

Original Volkswagen Beetles were once common on the streets of Latin America. But now these sturdy machines are getting rarer. There are still some stalwart old Beetles on the roads of Peru.

The ones I saw there seemed somehow brawnier than they do in the States. Possibly they have larger tires? For whatever reason, they look to me taller and more capable of going over rough terrain than their North American cousins.

Nearly every Peruvian Beetle I saw had been modified in some way or another, making identification difficult. So I’d be glad if Beetle experts reading this could give me their estimate of the year of each vehicle here and weigh in on the larger tire question.

I saw this one in Cusco. It appeared to be in the best shape of all those I photographed.

This one was parked on a side street in Miraflores. It was one of several I saw that had a roof rack of this design.

This battered bug was driving around Plaza de Armas in Lima Centro.

I saw these four Beetles in Barranco. Being a mecca for hippies, artists, and other Bohemians, it didn’t surprise me to find a fair few old VWs there.

When I was growing up, we had a book of classic Volkswagen ads on our family bookshelf. They were clever and quirky — some of the first ads I actually enjoyed. During my trip to Peru, I remembered this ad and found myself thinking about how common Beetles used to be in Latin America. It says a lot about why these cars were once so popular in certain parts of the world.

Parque de la Reserva

At the time of its dedication in 1929, Lima’s Parque de la Reserva was intended as a monument to Peruvian troops who fought against Chilean forces in 1881 in The War of the Pacific. In 2007, though, the purpose and meaning of the park changed significantly. The grounds were substantially renovated to include 13 large fountains that were designed less to inculcate Peruvian patriotism than to celebrate Peruvian children, friends, families, and lovers.

The fountains are colorfully illuminated at night. Some have sensors that vary the water flow and light color as people approach.

Some of the fountains entice people into them and then spray bars of water up from holes in the ground, creating a kind of water prison.

At the perimeter of the park are benches set into small gazebos where cuddling couples can watch the water and light show.

Encouraging love seems to be part of the park’s design and intent. There are love seats in several strategically scenic places around the park that are very popular with couples and families who want photos taken.

The evening I was there, I saw two wedding parties having photos taken. This one looked a little strange, though.

Barranco Street Art 2

There’s so much street art in Barranco that I couldn’t fit all of it into my first post on the subject. The neighborhood is situated by the ocean and is divided by a gorge that cuts into the shoreline. A wooden footbridge over the gorge is so popular a hangout for loving couples that it’s called La Puente de Los Suspiros (the bridge of sighs). Many of the best murals in the neighborhood are located around the steps that lead down into the valley. Some artists’ studios are accessible only from the steps.

I was here:

Barranco Street Art 1

While the murals and street art of Miraflores are tasteful and elegant, those of Barranco are unruly and unrestrained. I’ve photographed graffiti and public art all over the world and from what I’ve seen, Barranco’s murals are in the very top tier.

The Barranco Scene

If Miraflores seems out of place — a prosperous upper-middle class neighborhood in a country where the per capita GDP is only about $6,000 — Barranco feels out of time. The major public square in this small Lima neighborhood is centered around a public library.That was more than enough to gladden my bibliophile heart.

Nearby stands an old electric streetcar with wooden doors and a cowcatcher front. This is a nonfunctioning museum piece, but it sets the mood for other anachronisms, like fifties-style lunch counters.

Hippies are another Barranco anachronism. They run galleries, play guitars out in the public squares, sell jewelry, and hang out with their boyfriends, girlfriends, and dogs.

And while most other parts of Lima use a color spectrum that ranges from concrete gray to Oxford brown, Barranco’s walls and buildings use a much livelier color palate.

For these and other reasons, the neighborhood is justifiably popular with tourists.

At one point, I got the strange feeling that I was being watched. I looked up and saw several large birds emerging from the rooftop of an abandoned church and circling above me. Yes, they were buzzards. I knew that the Inca Trail had taken a lot of out me, but I didn’t know I looked like buzzard food. “Buzz off!” I told them. “You’ve got the wrong guy.”

The Art of Miraflores

The Bad Girl invited me to Miraflores. The titular character in Mario Vargas Llosa’s novel arrives there as a teenager claiming to be from Chile and sets the hearts of the local boys aflutter. Vargas Llosa describes the neighborhood as a kind of early 1950s dreamland, where affluent Peruvian kids listen to western music, flirt, smoke cigarettes, dance the mambos, behave awkwardly, and affect sophistication.

Just as the main character falls in love with The Bad Girl, so I fell in love with Miraflores, an upscale Lima neighborhood of that seems to have more bookstores per capita than any other place on earth except Cambridge, Massachusetts. I spent hours walking up and down Avenida Larco between Parque Kennedy and the Larcomar shopping plaza, where the avenue dead ends into the Pacific Ocean. That mile-long stretch has cafes, convenience stores, boutiques, a major theater (where a Spanish language version of Waiting for Godot was just opening), travel agencies, hotels and apartment towers.

The side streets are illuminated by beautiful murals, authorized and otherwise. As I’ve done in so many other places, I treated those streets as my museum.

The street itself makes its priorities clear. 60% of the space from building front to building front is apportioned to sidewalks, 5% to a bike lane, 10% to a bus lane, and only 25% to cars and trucks. There’s no parking on Avenida Larco, which further contributes to the pro-pedestrian feel. The streets are clean and traffic is slow and orderly. And everything works—from the street lights to the bike lane signals to the fountains and WiFi in the public parks.

I suspect this level of municipal attention to urban amenities doesn’t apply in all of Peru—or even in all of Lima. But Miraflores seemed to embdy the old slogan for Chicago: the city that works.

Judging by the number of newspapers, tabloids, and magazines I saw for sale, Peru has a lively media scene.

I saw people reading them everywhere.

Some travel authors sniff at Lima, referring to it as little more than an airport through which people pass en route to Cusco and Machu Piccuhu. “Dusty” and “arid” are the adjectives one traveler used. Don’t believe it. Miraflores is vibrant and blooming.

I stayed there for four days and began to imagine that I could very happily live there. Maybe someday….