An American Abroad

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….

Learn from My Peruvian Travel Mistakes

From 2013 to 2015, I traveled regularly to countries in the developing world. I ventured to China, Southeast Asia, Malaysia, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka, Turkey, Tunisia, and Morocco. I developed good travel habits I was proud of and that served me well. But I haven’t been traveling as much recently and I’m obviously out of practice. My recent trip to Peru drove home to me how rusty my travel skills had become. So here’s a list of my Peruvian travel errors as a reminder to myself and as an aid to people who might be contemplating a similar trip. Learn from my mistakes!

Mistake #1: I Took the Wrong Footwear

I used to tell people that the most important thing to pack was the stuff you wear on your feet. You walk a lot when you travel. It’s a great way to see a country and its people and is often the only way to see the sights. If your feet hurt or you don’t have the right shoes, you won’t enjoy your trip nearly as much.

My old go-to travel footwear was a pair of Merrell hiking shoes. I wore them everywhere. They had good arch and ankle support. These things are important in parts of the world where sidewalks and streets are not as smooth and obstacle-free as they are in North America. They looked good, too: not too flashy but suitable for all but the most formal environments.

Strangely, though, in the last year, they began to hurt my feet. I don’t know whether the shoes or my feet changed, but those shoes simply weren’t comfortable anymore. I meant to replace them, but I hate shoe shopping and kept putting off the errand. When it came time to go to Peru, I opened my closet and was faced with a choice between Converse Chuck Taylors and FILA athletic shoes. I took the FILAs. Though they’re well-padded and comfortable for all-day wear, they don’t have the kind of ankle or arch support that’s needed for walking across uneven terrain. They have relatively smooth soles and that doesn’t provide much grip on hilly terrain. And they’re fluorescent green. I paid for this poor choice on the Inca Trail. The lack of ankle support put a lot of stress on my knee and hip muscles and left me limping for the last quarter of the trip.

Lesson (re-) learned: take appropriate footwear.

Mistake #2: I Took the Wrong Jacket

If you know me, you know I love my leather jackets. They look and feel great in spring and fall weather. They’re durable and have lots of pockets, which are good for travelers.

For walking around Lima, when the morning and evening temperatures dipped into the 50s, my old brown leather jacket was great. But it was an extremely poor choice for hiking the Inca Trail. Yes, it kept me warm—but too much so. All that exertion made me sweat and the leather trapped the heat and moisture inside. I was soon way too hot and damp. So I took off the jacket and crammed it down inside my day pack. But this added a good 12 pounds to my day pack and added so much bulk to the pack that it was hard to get anything in or out of the pack. I felt the extra weight as I struggled to get enough oxygen while climbing up the train ascents.

It would have made much more sense for me to have taken a down or fiberfill jacket — something lightweight that could be vented easily. I own a couple I could have used. But I was thinking more about walking around urban Lima than about hiking the Inca Trail. I should have gone for functionality over style.

Mistake #3: I Didn’t Do My Homework

Ah, arrogance. It’s so easy to fall into. “Machu Picchu? I’ll just go to Cusco and get a bus there or something and walk around and see what’s to be seen.” That was the extent of my planning. And in a lot of places, that would have been enough. But by the time I realized that there was a lot more to it than that, it was almost too late. And to make matters worse, I had laid out nonrefundable hotel deposits on accommodations that just wouldn’t work for what I wanted to do.

Had I researched this trip with my usual diligence, I would have realized some pretty basic facts:

–You need a permit to hike the Inca Trail and such permits are limited in number.

–You need a ticket to enter Machu Picchu and such tickets are limited in number.

–You can’t enter Machu Picchu on your own; you have to have a licensed guide with you at all times.

–Trains and buses that operate in the vicinity of Machu Picchu are booked up months in advance.

I remember the day when all those facts hit me. And I wanted to hit myself back. How could I have been so careless about my plans? I had to scramble to save my vacation. Fortunately, I lucked upon Adios Adventure Travel. Unlike some of the other outfitters I contacted, they were fine with working around my schedule instead of forcing me into theirs. I rarely hire outfitters, travel agents, or guides, but this was one instance where I needed help. Adios came through for me and arranged for all the transfers, transportation, and accommodations I needed for the Machu Picchu leg of my trip. But it was a near thing. Had I discovered the fundamental planning errors I made a couple of weeks later, I probably wouldn’t have been able to make the trip at all. As it was, I lost some money on useless hotel deposits, but I saved my trip.

Mistake #4: I Didn’t Train Right

I knew that hiking the Inca Trail and climbing around Machu Picchu would be a major physical challenge. And so in the nine weeks before I left, I made a concerted effort to get into shape for it. I ran the stairs at my apartment building. I lost eleven pounds. I worked out with free weights. I took long walks. I took my vitamins and ate my Wheaties. But the Inca Trail kicked my sorry ass anyway.

The elevation was part of it—and frankly, I don’t know what I could have done short of running with a plastic bag over my head to cope with it. Puerto Rico is a few hundred feet above sea level. Machu Picchu is over 8,000 foot above sea level. Cusco is 3,000 feet above that. I took Acetazolamide before and during my stay at elevation, but I hated the side effects it caused. Though I didn’t get altitude sickness, I was still chronically short of breath out on the trail.

I should have done a lot more to train with sustained aerobic activity. My aerobic efforts tended to be short but intense. Long and moderate would have been better.

Mistake #5: I Didn’t Read the Fine Print

As my mistakes on this trip go, this was a minor one, though it could have been more significant if I’d run into any serious problems.

I have a Samsung Galaxy J7 smartphone that accommodates two SIM cards. When I travel abroad, I simply buy a local pay-as-you-go SIM card and slide it in. Then I’ve got an in-country phone number and data plan that is far cheaper than paying international roaming charges on my regular US account.

When I was in the Lima airport, I went to a Claro kiosk and saw a sign promoting a one-week all-you-can-eat SIM card for a very reasonable price. I bought it. And it was great for data. But when I wanted to make an in-country phone call, I had to dial a six-digit access code first. Supposedly I could have used this to text out of the country as well, though I was never able to make that work.

As it turned out, the Claro data plan was enough to keep me connected via WhatsApp and Facebook Messenger. But on the one occasion where I had to make an actual phone call, it wasn’t very useful. I didn’t want to be fiddling around with access codes and trying to figure out if I needed to use a country code or a +1 to make it work. Next time, I need to find out more about these SIM card deals before I plunk my money down.