I am glad you got to El Brujo after all that! And "muy caro" worked out. I did not have a good experience with getting picked up at the bus station in Trujillo, nor lodging, nor touring either.. it was pretty much a Casa de Clara disaster all around, (public bus and a pedicab, plus ancient Volkswagon no less!) I assume with the cruise ships now stopping in Trujillo, the tourism infrastructure is better developed. And the sites are certainly worthwhile.

I would've hated too to find myself without the pre-arranged taxi, especially after a long night bus ride. You handled it it much better than I would've had, happy to hear all ended well. Following your trip, alternating from your TR to google maps and google images. Sounds wonderful!

Well, you have far more patience and tolerance than I might have. I find the more I travel, the more annoyed I get at major screw ups. Having been to many undeveloped destinations and having everything go relatively smoothly, it is expasperating to have screw ups. And then to be blamed for it on top of everything. Impressed you kept your cool.

Our pre-arranged taxi for Cuzco airport didn’t show up either. And we had also been warned by locals and our diplomatic service about taxis. At least there were nine of us to fight off any rogue taxi drivers. Being on your own would be somewhat! more worrisome.

I love how you brush off the challenges and move forward with your plans. I too had taxi issues in Cuzco.

It’s nice to find that people are still reading along – thanks! And thanks, too, for your words of empathy and encouragement.

@ mlgb: It certainly sounds like the tourism infrastructure has improved since you visited Trujillo. Seriously, a VW? (Actually, I can imagine thinking a functioning VW preferable to some of the modes of transportation I saw in that part of Peru. ) El Brujo was, IMO, fascinating – I’m glad I found it easy to get there.

@ xyz99: I’m glad my report is inspiring you to learn more about the area – it is an amazing country!

@ yestravel: I’m not sure the Libertedad’s staff would agree that I displayed patience or tolerance – though I certainly did try! Being blamed was the part that bothered me most – mistakes happen, and I wanted to know that they would take appropriate corrective action, but blaming me!?! That did not sit well!

@ xcountry: Given all those warnings, it was – to say the least – disconcerting to be a solo woman without a prearranged taxi. On the other hand, at least I didn’t have to worry about anyone else’s safety! IMO, the scenario isn't a good one no matter the number of people involved.

@ tripplanner001: IME, brushing off challenges proves much easier with a bit of wine or a pisco sour or – as in this case – at least a beer.

- - - - -


Day 10: Trujillo (cont.)

Starting my day with another delightful sampling of the Libertadad’s wide-ranging buffet – and with many apologies for inadvertently trapping a piece of burning bread in a toaster -- I was soon ready to join my all-day English tour of archeological sites in the area.

To my great surprise, no one else had signed up for this tour, so I had the car, driver, and guide – G – to myself! G was a delightful woman; I consider myself extraordinarly fortunate to have ended up with her and to have had the chance to hear her comments on various aspects of the life of women in today’s Peru.

Our full-day schedule included:

· A stop at the shop of a ceramacist who demonstrates ancient technique, garbed in costume. Oh no, I thought – starting with a shopping op, however disguised, is not what I thought I was getting into! But it was the only such stop of the day, and he was interesting, and yes there was a shopping op, but it was low key. Having seen several museum exhibits showing ceramacists' methods, the things I found most interesting were listening to him blow a conch horn (such a deep and long-lasting sound from a single breath!) and learning that, for the final firing of ceramics, the pieces were laid upon each other (with nothing to protect each from another) and the number of contacts was considered irrelevant. Although the man’s workmanship was admirable, I was well aware that I was only about a quarter of the way through my trip, and I try very hard to avoid buying any gifts or mementos until my last stop or two. I attempted to explain that, and bought just one small whistle.

· The Museo Huacas del Moche. This museum held some very interesting objects and enough English signage that I think I could have appreciated it, even if G hadn’t been there to help me understand. What I remember most, though, is that G helped me learn how to “read” the ancient iconography of the area. Initially, all I could see was a mass of intricately drawn lines; with enough scrutiny, I might find the eyes of a puma or the tail of a fish. With G’s help, I began to be able to recognize the pattern that represented a catfish, or the stepped design that signaled authority, and so forth. I certainly never learned to “read” Moche (or other) ancient Peruvian designs, but I treasured being able to make sense of even tiny bits of it. And I relished the reminder of learning to read – those initial moments when what begins to be able to detect at least a few patterns in an otherwise meaningless morass of squiggles.

· The Huaca de Luna. This site captured me from the entrance, with the way it made the rock of the area an integral part of the temple – a feature I was to encounter among the ceremonial sites of many of the pre-Columbian cultures with which I came in contact. And then some surprisingly well preserved murals (in which I could identify some symbols ), and some intriguing evidence of the building techniques, such as layering new temples over older ones as time passed (this pyramid has at least 5 layers, IIRC), and some interesting ongoing research elements (e.g., scattered trays with screens on top that are being used to assess the protection against sand offered by various coverings), then, OMG, the murals and reliefs of the final façade!!! So massive, so detailed, so rich in color even after all these centuries – breathtaking!

· There were vantage points from which we could observe the massive Huaca de Sol and see traces of the huge area that would once have been inhabited by the many workers who would have served these two pyramids, once ceremonial (Luna) and one administrative (Sol). And to avoid confusion in the context of other ancient Peruvian cultures who worshiped the sun or the moon or both, let me note that there’s apparently no reason to believe that the creators of these pyramids associated either pyramid with any particularly celestial body – the names were apparently bestowed by their Spanish “discoverers”.

· The Huaca Arco Iris, where I met my first hairless Peruvian dogs. But the dogs, welcoming as they were, weren’t the reason for visiting – this small temple or tomb has a single entrance leading into a narrow corridor between the massive and very tall outer wall and inner walls also of impressive height, and the inner walls are covered with impressive reliefs. Although the current walls are recreations (the originals were damaged by rains), they easily convey the artistry and craftsmanship that were brought to bear on the establishment of this place.

· Chan Chan – and another round of OMG, OMG, OMG! We visited just one palace of this truly extensive ancient city, and I was honestly gobsmacked by what I saw – exquisite elegance in the use of proportion and design and space to create an awesome array of private and public spaces, all with amazing acoustics. (And it wasn’t just that human voices could be easily heard if uttered from specific points: the sound of the distant sea could be heard through much of the palace.) The warehouses intrigued me, with their evidence of detailed knowledge of the architectural features (spatial dimensions, ventilation features, flooring height, etc.) that would best allow storage of specific individual types of goods – wow! And if the area that now holds a bit of a pond and some grasses was once a space for worshipping the moon, well, I can imagine the merits of devoting myself to contemplation of the moon and its reflections in a space like that! Despite the fact that one sees almost nothing but sand-colored walls of various heights, I don’t know that I’ve seen anything that so strongly reminded me of the grandeur of Beijing’s Forbidden City, with its huge areas for gatherings of the masses, and its areas for the private lives and worship of its rulers, and its attention to every single detail.

And an aside: At the time when Peru was preparing to ask UNESCO to grant Chan Chan World Heritage Site status (which it has), the area was home to large numbers of people. I asked G what happened to them, and if I understood correctly, they were forced to move. They were given time to do so, but little or no recompense for the loss of the homes.

· Our next stop was Huanchaco, and the most awkward moments of the day. A seaside community not unlike El Pimental, it soon became apparent that the purpose of our stop was for a late lunch. Perhaps I’ve already noted that I don’t normally eat lunch, but am happy to take a break if that’s what works for others on a tour. And on the few tours I’d already taken in Peru, I’d noticed that the tour staff also eat at that time, and I didn’t want to keep either my driver or G from that opportunity. So when the driver left G and me off along a street edging Huanchaco’s beach, and G started to leave me at a restaurant considered suitable for foreigners, I offered to treat G to lunch, and when she declined, I suggested treating her to a beverage – an option she eventually accepted. I don’t know if she would have eaten elsewhere – I suspect that she knows places where she could have gotten something tasty for a low price. I do wish I’d thought it through earlier, so I could have suggested either skipping Huanchaco entirely or perhaps just taking a few moments to walk along the beach.

Awkward as those moments were, we soon got beyond them. We sat on a second floor balcony with a pleasant, if partially obstrcuted, view of the ocean and surfers and seabirds, and we watched as the day shifted from sunny and bright to increasingly misty. I greatly enjoyed our conversation, which strayed from the archeological sites of our agenda to discussions about daily life and cultural norms and so forth, and am very glad that G agreed to join me for that break.

· Re-uniting with our driver, we returned to Trujillo and reached my hotel just around nightfall; where I bid a very fond farewell to G.


I freshened up and then went to the Libertadad’s bar for the “welcoming” drink that was included with my booking. I found the bar area very comfortable (good thing I hadn’t found it before!) and can assure you that they make a very good pisco sour.

My goal for dinner was to sample a local specialty, cabrito con frijoles – goat stew with beans – and I had determined that I would be able to do so at El Mochica. All that remained was to find the restaurant, and – silly me – I missed it when I first walked by. (I’m blaming construction in the area that blocked the signage from my view, and I plan on sticking to that story!) Instead, I discovered the helpfulness of the many Peruvians who I asked for directions. (And it did, indeed, take many people, because I knew it wasn’t where they kept telling me to go….)

Eventually finding it, I was promptly seated and nicely served. I began with an excellent soup of greens and an awful glass of white wine (really, I need to learn not to ask for it!); the goat (with a decent red) was among the most tender and tasty I’ve ever had, although I thought the beans seriously overcooked. At this point in my trip, I was finally beginning to suspect that many of the regional specialties mentioned in my guidebooks are served primarily as the main meal of the day – meaning, at lunch. Finding them in the evening was not always easy, and if I did find them, elements that don’t hold up well to overcooking were sometimes a bit disappointing.

I enjoyed a leisurely walk back to my hotel – it wasn’t far at all! – and took some time to appreciate the lovely nighttime lights of the Plaza de Armas.


Day 11: Trujillo (cont.)

After another great breakfast, I set off to explore a bit more of Trujillo.

· I started with the cathedral, where signs of the city’s historic wealth abounded; I particularly liked the gilded cupids who, playing with one another, formed the supports for the altar.

· Walking through some interesting, and some not-so-interesting neighborhoods, and then negotiating my way beyond a major intersection involving muti-lane highways and ramps, I finally found my way to the location of the Museo Arqueológico Casinelli, which I knew was in the basement of a gas station – except that the museum is gone and the gas station is now an abandoned mass of grafitti, broken glass, drooping wires, and other debris. I learned later that the collection had been purchased by the state and moved to a location just outside Trujillo.

· On my way back into town, I enjoyed the antics of a street juggler.

· Back at the Plaza de Armas, I visited the Casa de Urquiaga, where a guide takes your through the various rooms and courtyards, which feature furnishings from the colonial era, a small display of the owning bank’s numismatic collection, and items of historical significance. Of the more mundane items, I was intrigued to see a water collection tank made of pumice, which allowed natural filtration. I was also inrigued by a collection of three lovely sculptures of a mother and child -- one in wood, one in ceramic, and one in stone -- apparently selected to illuminate some of the differences between these media.

I relaxed briefly over a beer and then said farewell to Trujillo, checking out of my hotel and heading to the airport by taxi. I caught a few glimpses of a sunset – pastels shimmering above a distant horizon – before my flight boarded, and then, before we taxied onto the runway, there was an announcement that our flight would be delayed (it was too rapid for me to comprehend the reason). Out of my control! I just hoped that the driver who was to meet me in Lima checked the flight status (and was glad to later learn that he had).


Next up: Lima

Days 11 to 15: Lima
Day 11, cont.: Lima

Finally arriving in Lima, my taxidatum driver (thanks for that recommendation, crellston!) was there to greet me, and I’d be very surprised if there was a shortcut between the airport and my hotel that he didn’t take.

Warmly welcomed at 3B Barranco’s (thanks, mlgb & crellston!), I was delighted by it’s bright, modern lines and the ways it seemed to make its common areas seem more open and inviting than their actual dimensions would have suggested possible. And kudos to its staff – extraordinarily helpful!

It was late, so I left almost immediately for La Cuadra del Salvador (thanks yet again to crellston), which was still seating diners – but just barely. A very lively and crowded place with a jazz saxophonist who played along with a recording of the original pieces, I had a perfectly cooked steak, a huge salad, and papas fritas. I also ordered a glass of the house red wine; when it arrived, I asked the waiter what it was. He looked at me for a moment and then said, slowly and clearly, if with barely concealed impatience, “vino tinto.” When I laughed and asked which red wine, he paused and then laughed, too, and said it was a malbec; later, he brought the bottle so I could see the label. It was, in fact, a very nice malbec that paired quite nicely with the steak. Time for sleep!


Day 12: Lima

Happy to discover that the 3B offers delicious breakfasts, I prepared for the day – and also learned just how wonderfully helpful E could be. I had planned to begin my day at the Museo de los Descalzos and then walk to the Museo Banco Central de Reserva, barely 2 kilometers away. But E knew that area, and didn’t think it would be wise for me to walk there. She also didn’t think there would be many taxis near the convent, and was concerned that I would have difficulty finding someone who spoke enough English to help. (Of course, E proved to be right!) So she called the convent and spoke to a woman (S) who agreed to make sure I got into a safe taxi upon my departure.

I was soon in a taxi en route to the convent -- my first exposure to daytime traffic in Lima. I’ve heard many people comment on the traffic in this city, and I was to learn (to my regret) just how awful traffic jams could be there, but through most of my time in Lima, I must admit that I didn’t think the traffic any worse than in Chiclayo – its just that there wasn’t quite as wide a range of vehicles in Lima (no pedicabs, for example, or at least not on the main roads); conversely, the speeds were much higher on those main roads. Either way, I was realizing that it was silly of me to have been afraid of bus rides on twisty, turning mountain roads – death and disaster were surely just as possible on the flat or nearly flat surfaces of roads in either of these cities!

At least I enjoyed the scenery on this sometimes terrifying ride – the surf that ceaselessly pounded the beaches; the stretches of now badly damaged mosaic walls that line parts of the ocean-side highway and that still provide a testament to how beautiful they must once have been; the slopes of flowers and shrubs lining other parts of that highway in brilliant shades of magenta and vermillion and lemon and lavender and sometimes royal purple or cornflower blue….

When the taxi turned into the heart of Lima and into the area near the convent, I saw what E meant. That area might once have been quite elegant – and a few traces of that long-ago wealth remain (e.g., a statue-lined promenade leading to the convent) -- but it’s clearly been a very long time since the area’s heyday and it was clearly not likely to have been a place for a particularly pleasant stroll.

In contrast, my time at the Museo de los Descales was very pleasant, indeed! One can only visit by joining a tour, and I was lucky in that a guide had just begun a tour with only a few other tourists, and I was able to join it. It was in Spanish, but that was fine with me – following a pointed hand and looking can be quite effective, IME. A couple with a young child were part of the group I joined, and I thoroughly enjoyed the girl’s curiosity, and the ways in which her parents encouraged it, and the ways in which the guide responded by patiently answering questions and pointing to other things that must have had relevance in light of the girl’s questions, and of course, the girl’s delight in the experience. Oh, that made me think of my mother and an aunt and the ways they introduced me to various things!

As usual, I’ll leave the description of the museum to guidebooks, instead just highlighting a few things that struck me in particular – the glorious and joyous paintings that bedecked one courtyard; the hospital courtyard with its pharmacy and garden of medicinal plants and the arrangement of rooms so that the doctor (in the original sense of the word, “resident”) could always and easily monitor an invalid; a treasured painting in which a sainted woman seems to rise above the faces of cupids – but to me, the cupids’ faces looked both adult and strangely moribund (creepy!)....

When I finished my tour, I easily found S, who did indeed call a taxi for me and make sure the fare was reasonable. Thank you, S & E!

My next stop was the Museo Banco Central de Reserva, and OMG, what a wonderful museum it is! It holds small selection of the museum’s coins (displayed in what were original tellers’ stalls – a nice touch, IMO); and a small collection of folk art spanning Colonial times to the present; and a floor of Peruvian paintings (with enough signage in English to provide a good overview of key features). But it was the collection of pre-Columbian artifacts that absolutely took my breath away! Whistling pots and other ceramics; textiles; gold (displayed in the bank’s former vault) … amazing! I had expected to spend about an hour at this museum, and thought every minute of my 2+ hours there very well spent.

To visit the Museo Banco, one was required to check everything at a security office next door, and when I reclaimed my purse, the guard there was kind enough to direct me to a nearby café. I first walked around the area just a bit, passing an impressive entrance to a grand palace (which I only later realized was the Palacio de Torre Tagle) and then sitting for a moment in the tiny plaza across from a then-closed church. And then I went to the recommended café to have a beer while I planned my next steps, and … OMG, it’s already after 3 p.m. and the Amano closes at 5 p.m. and I suspect that waiter had never seen anyone toss a beer back as quickly as I did!

On a pedestrian-only street, I quickly walked the short half-block back to the Museo Banco, where the already very helpful security guard called a taxi for me. I confirmed that the driver knew the Amano, he quoted a price that the guard indicated was reasonable, I hopped in, and off we went. I expected that it would take a while – maybe a half hour at that time of day. What I hadn’t expected was that the driver did not actually know how to get to the museum, and instead of stopping and asking for directions, he just kept driving around. I was NOT happy! In fairness, I was to realize that he had entered a maze of one-way streets, and although the directions he was getting from his smartphone seemed reasonable, he kept encountering streets that he couldn’t enter. He did, finally, stop for directions and got me there. And I’m glad to say that by the time we got there, I had realized that my anger should really be directed to myself – after all, I’m the one who lost track of the time.

Finally reaching the Museo Amano, aka the Pre-Columbian Textile Museum, I was disappointed to learn that I was just a bit too late for an English-language tour. I reminded myself that I could come back, and honestly, I was just glad to get there with at least an hour to roam! I am not particularly knowledgeable about textiles, but I am fascinated by them and have been fortunate to see and learn at least a bit about them on various trips I’ve taken and museums I’ve visited over the years. I was thrilled to see this collection, with its extraordinary examples. Excellent signage helped me understand the transition from fishing nets to weavings deemed more valuable that gold, and also illustrated the variety of techniques and developments.

As I savored the opportunity to see this collection, I was vaguely aware of the passage of time – but I could also hear the voices of a group of tourists who had entered just before me, so I refused to look at a clock and just trusted that if I didn’t dawdle and kept close to them, I would be more or less on pace. Little did I realize that they had moved into a room for a private discussion! When I finally completed my circuit of the museum, I found that it was nearly a half-hour after the museum was to have closed! As I apologized profusely to the man at the desk, he couldn’t have been more gracious in assuring me that he was happy to see someone so enjoy her time with the collection. With my sincere thanks, and the purchase of a small book about the collection (IMO, well worth dragging around for another 2 weeks), I asked him to call a taxi, which he did.

I returned to the 3B, and then left again almost immediately to explore Barranco. I admired various Colonial mansions and galleries and shops en route to Barranco’s main plaza (the Plaza de Armas Barranco), where many people, Peruvian and international, were enjoying street performances and street food and watching each other. La Puente de Los Suspiros seemed to me pleasant enough, if a bit too tourist-y. Nonetheless, the trees and birds and decorations made it worth seeing – and may explain why so very many couples were having wedding photographs taken in the area.

I stopped in a grocery store on the way back to the 3B, and can only wonder whether local residents routinely face such crowds and lines upon returning home from work?!? I was glad to see that there are lanes designated for “priority” customers – the old, disabled, pregnant women, etc. (Even though I felt old and disabled, I didn’t test the rules, instead waiting patiently in a “normal” lane.)

Upon reaching my room, I had just enough time to prepare for a dinner reservation, and with that, I must make an embarrassing admission: I had made reservations at not one, not two, but all three of the restaurants in Lima that rank among lists of the best 50 restaurants in the world! Booking even one would have been way out of the box for me – booking any meal likely to cost (in total) more than US $100 has been a very, very rare event in my life, and then only undertaken as a truly exceptional splurge. But upon reading about Central, I was hooked – it sounded like such an amazing way to experience Peruvian cuisine! (Not – but more on that later.) I then became intrigued by Maido, and the ways in which it blends Japanese and Peruvian cuisines. And if I was willing to consider those two, then why not consider the 3rd of the Lima restaurants on the top 50 list – Astrid y Gastón? Although I’ve always aimed to dine on only regional cuisine or regional specialties when traveling, I found many ways to rationalize my choice:
Q: What cuisine is Lima known for?
A: It’s high-end restaurants featuring Peruvian ingredients (among other things).
Q: How can I justify the cost?
A: From what I’ve read, they’re each much more affordable than any other restaurant on the list (I don’t actually know if that’s actually true), and anyways, it’s not like I’ll be spending much on food elsewhere. (It would be an exagerration to say that I spent more on food during my 4 nights in Lima than during the rest of my month in Peru – but not by much!)
Q: How will I feel if I skip Central?
A: I think I’ll regret it.

Suffice it to say that I decided to make this foray into the world’s elite dining experiences and, given the ways in which my reservations worked out, this was my night for Astrid y Gastón. I had the 18-course tasting menu with pairings, and I have only positive things to say about the experience: The food – every dish -- was delicious and beautifully plated; the paired beverages were, indeed, thoughtfully chosen; and the servers added just the right personal touch to their professional attention. I greatly appreciated that my servers routinely checked whether I was ready for my next course, or whether I wanted a break – and when I did, their sense of timing was impeccable. Worth the cost? I honestly can’t answer that question. I’m not sure my palette would have allowed me to discriminate between these wonderful dishes and those that would have been part of a much more affordable meal. So, while I thoroughly enjoyed my evening at Astrid y Gastón (and, later, savored the chocolates given as a parting gift), and while I have no regrets about dining there (I had wanted the experience!), I’m not sure I would do so again.


Day 13: Lima

My first stop of this day was the National Museum of Archeology, Anthropology and History. I was decidedly impressed with the various collections of this museum, and I also appreciated the ways in which they were displayed, including signage in multiple languages. Among those that stand out most clearly are some of the ancient remains and recreations of parts of Chavin and a collection of artifacts from Amazonian cultures, but there was so much more! Too, it was pleasant to run into a couple I had met at Kuélap and chat briefly while waiting for my taxi.

On to my 2nd extravagant meal – lunch at Maido. I thought this meal extraordinary! Each gorgeous course of my tasting menu burst with flavor and texture, each was nicely complimented by its paired beverage, and each was attentively served at a perfect pace by patient and responsive staff. Again, staff paid careful attention to timing, ensuring that I knew I could ask for a break or ask to have dishes served at a different pace. Without trying to answer the question of whether any meal is ever worth so much money, I would say that if the answer to that question is yes, then I easily see why Maido would qualify.

The permanent collection of the Museo de Arte Italiano was not available for viewing; instead, the museum held a small exhibit of Italian posters. Although I hadn’t known that it advance, I think the taxi driver who delivered me might have known – he kept offering to wait for me, while I kept trying to tell him not to do so. But he did! I felt bad, because I did not want another taxi yet – I was just going across the road to another museum. He was good-natured about it, and left, and as I waited – and waited, and waited – for a chance to cross the road, I wondered if I should have let him take me!

I thought the Museo de Arte de Lima (MALI) well worth a leisurely visit of several hours. Beginning with a small collection of pre-Columbian artifacts, it covers the art of the region through to the present time, and does so with signage that I found informative and helpful. When I was there, it also held a special exhibit of work by Dali; as I was to learn by inadvertently violating the applicable rule, visitors were to move through that exhibit in one direction, and one direction only?!? Insistence on that rule struck me as particularly odd since I was the only person there and the museum was about to close, but whatever!

The entrance to this museum is within a gated park (the Parque de la Exposición), and staff said that there wasn’t anywhere they could tell a taxi to look for me if they were to call one. So I walked through the park a bit, admiring various plantings and structures, and then went to a nearby hotel, where I asked the doorman if he could call a taxi for me. He was so nice about it! He called, and then he showed me to a chair where I could be comfortable while waiting, and then he brought me a handful of candies from the jar on the bellhops’ desk, and then – seemingly intent upon determining what else he could do for me, he looked at his hand, saw that it held a pen, and gave it to me. And when the taxi arrived, he made sure that I was safely ensconced and had negotiated a reasonable fare. How nice!

And another fortunate experience: The taxi driver – An -- was one of Lima’s very few women taxi drivers. Even if the limitations to my Spanish and her English kept the conversation rather basic, it was fascinating to hear her speak about the life of a woman who drives taxis in Lima! She admitted that it was a difficult job for a woman, but she said she really enjoyed it and, by driving only in the evenings, it worked well for her husband and children.

Upon arriving at the Museo Larco, I confirmed its opening hours and then went straight to its café, where I secured an outdoor table and ordered a pisco sour. It was a lovely evening, and a lovely setting, with objets d’art and flowers marking the edge of a lawn.

The Museo Larco holds an extraordinary collection of pre-Columbian artifacts, displayed with informative signage in at least five languages (Spanish, English, French, German, and Japanese, IIRC). I could easily imagine spending a full day at this museum – and still feeling as though I had barely scratched its surface! I enjoyed several delightful hours there and then returned to the door as closing time approached. But instead of giving me the day-bag I had checked, the man directed me into their open archives – an astonishing and seemingly endless array of floor to ceiling shelving units, each packed with artifacts that are apparently open to researchers. I took only a cursory walk through a few racks, overwhelmed by the treasures held there.

And then, with closing time at hand, the man pointed to a separate building and said I should go there, too! Before I did, I asked him to call An (the female taxi driver) for me. (I should have asked her to come back when she left me off, but hadn’t thought about it at the time.) With that, I turned to the building to which he had directed me, where I found the Larco’s collection of pre-Columbian erotic art – a much larger and more diverse collection that the Brüning’s. Fascinating! If it isn’t already obvious, I enjoy museums, and I saw many wonderful museums while in Peru; even with that context, the Museo Larco stands out as exceptional.

I really didn’t want to delay the man who had so kindly made sure I saw these things, so although I took enough time to appreciate the collection, I didn’t linger. Thanking the man profusely, I claimed my daybag and went to the gate to wait for An. The kind guide there was reluctant to leave until I was safely on my way. I was still there when the man from the museum finished his duties, so he came to the gate and, saying that he lived nearby and so could easily wait, he let the guard leave. While I felt bad that I had inadvertently inconvenienced these people, I was also incredibly grateful for their concern and assistance.

An arrived reasonably quickly and whisked me to the 3B, where I soon turned to welcome sleep.


Next up: More of Lima

kja, what an incredible find for m. A reward for searching something about your scandinavian adventues.

you should be publishing all your reports. Or maybe you are.

Peru has been my favourite missed location for decades. Alas, I cannot handle it under the circumstances but love the vicarious pleasure I got from reading your report.

Thanks.

Very much enjoyed reading and rereading about your time in Lima so far. Thank you for helping me relive some of my own wonderful memories of the city and providing insight of the many things I didn't had the time to do. Definitely want to go back and spend more time in Lima.

@ otherchelebi: How nice that you sought out my TRs, and thank you for suggesting that they warrant publication! I didn’t post reports on my time in Helsinki (or elsewhere in Scandinavia) – those trips were long before I’d ever heard of Fodor’s Forums. It’s nice to know that you are traveling with me vicariously – although I travel solo, I definitely enjoy having companions as I relive my experiences.

@ tripplanner001: I’m very glad to hear that my words have evoked some fond memories -- thanks so much for letting me know! Lima is a city with much to offer, isn’t it?

Indeed. I loved everything about the city - the museums, the food, the cityscapes, the coast, the people...hard to name it all. And from your report, I realize I only scratched its surface. I enjoyed Cuzco and the Sacred Valley town's very much too. Just haven't made it up north yet.

If I ever decide to spend on a tasting menu in Lima, I now know to do it at Maido (IIRC, I read another favorable review from someone I "trusted"). Good to know that lunch is an option.

Glad you at least made it to Amano! I've been 3x and would still go back. But have never been to Museo de los Descalzos..always something new in Lima, IMO one of the best cities for "museum whores" like me, and apparently kja also!

I have never crossed the Rimac except inside a bus! It did sort of look fascinating but E would kill me! And she "lets me" go all sorts of other places on my own

At 3B, I know you likely met R in the morning (3B served up breakfast avocado sandwiches as a veg option long before avocado toast became a "thing"). Did you also meet C, the long-time receptionist, and the owner, also an E? I've tried a few other hotel locations over the years but still prefer my "home away from home".

@ tripplanner001: I know what you mean! I know that I barely scratched Lima’s surface.

@ mlgb, my fellow “museum whore” (LOL!): While at 3Bs, I’m not sure I did meet R – M worked evenings; I think the E who was so helpful to me is the owner, and when she wasn’t there, C was. Wonderful people, wonderful place!

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Day 14: Lima (cont.)

Starting with another very tasty breakfast, I soon headed to the Basílica y Convento de San Francisco. My timing was perfect: I had just enough time to visit the Basilica before an English tour began. The basilica’s altars were decidedly lavish and ornate, which I can admire, if not particularly enjoy; in contrast, I thought the ceiling quite beautiful.

The tour (one can only visit the monastery by tour) highlighted some amazing features – the stunning Moorish dome of the entry stairwell; the ripples of the Spanish tiles in one courtyard, caused by the effects of humidity and earthquakes; ancient incunabula; the hidden entrance to tunnels that once connected various sites within the city (to allow escape, if necessary); the catacombs and how they were used….

After the tour ended, I sat for a moment in the entryway to consult my map, and I chatted briefly with an American couple about our plans for the day. Among other things, I mentioned that I was going to visit the Mercado Central, which they thought sounded interesting, so I gave them directions. I left, and in the next few minutes, I had the disconcerting sensation -- more than once -- that I was being followed; more than once, I thought I saw someone stepping out of sight as I turned to take a photo. For example, I passed a shop with the head of a whole roasted pig sticking out into the sidewalk, where a woman sat, ready to carve slices as needed. I hadn’t wanted to take a photo of the woman’s face, and so I stepped beyond to take the picture without identifying images, and in the process, had that hair-raising sensation that signaled something amiss. I stepped into a doorway, counted to ten, and then stepped out again – and there was the couple, who rather sheepishly explained that they had decided to follow me, since it sounded like I knew what I was doing. I don’t know how I would have felt, or responded, if they had asked to join me, but I must admit that I found it rather creepy that they had chosen to follow me without asking and then tried to pretend they weren’t. I again gave them directions to the Central Market and proceeded on the circuitous route that I had planned in advance so I could see some things of interest to me. OK, maybe the glimpse over the riverbed with trickles of Rio Rimac wasn’t all that interesting, but I was curious!

I did, eventually, head to the Mercado Central– wow, this place is HUGE! A full block with multiple levels, it was different than any other market I saw in Peru: similar items were actually sold in specific areas! There were marked aisles for fruits and aisles for vegetables, and the produce section was distinct from the area for lingerie or home cleaning supplies, etc. There might have been an odd juxtapostion here or there, but nothing like the chaos of so many of the markets I had seen elsewhere. I spent some time delighting in the colors and smells and the sounds of vendors interacting with their customers, wondering how people decide which tiny stall to patronize, fascinated by the different patterns used to distinguish various cheeses (made by wrapping them in specific leaves or putting them in baskets?), and observing the many ways in which vendors spend their time when not engaged in a purchase (as elsewhere, some sit back in a corner of their stall, texting or watching TV; others chat with the neighbors; some position and reposition their wares … I’m sure most do a bit of each of these). I also appreciated the variety of options being enjoyed by the many people who were savoring a meal in the white-tiled heart of the market -- such enticing aromas!

Lima’s Chinatown -- Barrio Chino – is just steps from the Mercado Central; I soon walked and re-walked its one short-block length. It was filled with lanterns and Chifu restaurants and benches topped by pagoda-like protections from the weather, and the pavement held representations of the creatures of the Chinese zodiac.

From there it was an easy walk to San Pedro, which was – not unexpectedly – closed at that time. But oh, I hadn’t realized that I was here already – this is the church I had seen just a block from the Museo Banco Central! There’s the little plaza, and the café where I had a beer, and the grand entrance to the Palacio de Torre Tagle (still closed to visitors), and the Bank….

I soon entered Lima’s enormous Plaza de Armas, where I first found a café just off the main square for a bit of a break. I won’t deny that a glass of white wine would have been exceedingly welcome, but a beer sufficed.

That aesthetic tastes vary is a truism; that Lima’s Cathedral is imposing is, I think, undeniable; that it is, from the outside, the least attracive major cathedral I’ve ever seen is probably an exagerration – but honestly, I found it sadly lacking in finesse, proportion, and elegance. JMO! And given what I’ve already said about my reaction to the Baroque, you might understand that it was a challenge for me to find at least one thing that I could honestly appreciate in each chapel and altar – but I managed, more or less. (I’m sure the cathedral holds what many would consider an unimagineable treasure of sublime artworks – and I’m happy to concede the point!) Some of the things that caught my attention were a display in one crypt of the clothing worn by a buried couple and child; the gorgeous carvings of the choir stalls; and the elaborate details of some of the vestments displayed in a small museum.

Crossing the grand Plaza de Armas, I tried to appreciate the architecture of the imposing buildings that surrounded it, but found it difficult to do so, in part because the distances made it hard for me to see them, but also because they simply weren’t that interesting to me – or maybe I was just tired?

Turning onto a side street, I saw a woman cleaning a large lion’s head that decorated a wall – OMG, is that the old post office’s mail deposit box? I asked the woman – yes! She kindly stepped aside for me to be able to see it a bit better. Nice!

It was just a few blocks to a major multi-lane road – maybe that’s why it seemed that I quickly left the heart of Lima and moved into an area of little interest? And then, once I crossed that road, I was stunned by how run down the area was – some of the buildings were obviously abandoned and decaying shells. It was still broad daylight and I felt safe, but it was jarring to walk such a short distance from the city’s heart to such decrepitude.

But the Centro Cultural Amazónico José Pio Aza was, IMO, well worth seeing! Buzzed in by an employee, I was graciously directed to the exhibits, arranged in a few small rooms around a courtyard. Devoted to educating people about the peoples of the Amazon region, the small collection holds some stunning examples of artifacts from that region and displays that I thought very informative about its people and traditions. The displays also raised questions: For example, a mannequin of a brown-skinned shaman had hands that appeared to be completely black -- did anyone actually fully tattoo their hands? Do young people get to choose their tattoos, or are they chosen by parents or shamans?

Re-crossing the busy avenue and re-entereing an area that didn’t seem desolate, I unexpectedly found a café specializing in microbrews. Happy to settle in with a relatively tame selection, I took a few moments to relax and catch up on my journal.

From there, I headed to the Iglesia y Convento Santo Domingo. Wow and wow! The first courtyard was gloriously lined with decorative tiles, and even if some were sadly in need of repair, their beauty was, IMO, indisputable. I walked around and around and appreciated the trees and flowers and fountain and could barely pull myself away! The rest of the convent also held some lovely details – painted steps into the crypt in a chapel to St. Martin; an expressive sculpture of the prone body of Santa Clara with a cupid; another courtyard that, if not as impressive, was still very pleasant. Was that set of stairs part of the route visitors could follow? I have no idea – but up I went, finding the oratorio overlooking the St. Martin Chapel and arcaded walkways around both cloisters, from which I could savor the changing light as the sunset approached. Soooo nice!

While in Peru, I never did become fully accustomed to the speed with with day turned to night, so it was with a bit of a jolt that I realized that the sun was, in fact, setting and it was time to leave! Staff were closing up as I left, and since everyone else I saw while in the convent was part of a tour, I still have no idea what would have happened if no one noticed that I hadn’t left….

After a quick glimpse into the church, I returned to the Plaza de Armas, where I thought I would sit for a moment to decide on my next steps. Just as I was crossing the plaza, its evening lights came on, and I will say that it seemed much more pleasant shrouded in a bit of darkness with bits of illumination here and there.

I had originally planned to visit another small museum that should still have been open, but it wasn’t a particularly high priority for me, so I thought I would go back to 3B and relax there a bit before my dinner reservation. (And skipping that museum turned out to be a wise choice!) Although I saw lots of taxis, I wanted to make sure to get a reliable one, and – given my success the day before – I decided to try another hotel. Granted, I was working with an outdated map, but if there was a hotel – not a hostel – within a few blocks of the Plaza de Armas, I didn’t find it in my 30-minute search.

Growing weary of the effort, I told myself I was being ridiculous – the Plaza de Armas was lined by security personnel; surely, if I asked one, s/he could point me to a reliable taxi. So went to a marked taxi zone and asked a uniformed officer (complete with helmet, shield, and billyclub) if the taxis were safe, and if the officer thought my request odd, he was at least kind enough to answer “yes” and to nod when the driver quoted a price. I thought it a bit high, but not enough to argue….

We made it a few blocks before stopping at a traffic light. I watched the driver pull out a smartphone, set it to TV mode, and plug it in. I debated ways to tactfully request that he devote his full attention to the road – and then realized that it made not one whit of difference: Not a vehicle was stirring, not even a mousy one.

We sat. Every 5 or 6 minutes, we moved forward a few yards. And then we sat again. I don’t blame the driver for taking advantage of the opportunity to catch up on the news, although I could have done without his use of the time for personal grooming.

There was, of course, nothing I could do, except (perhaps) remind myself to never again wish to immerse myself into all the experiences for which the destinations I visit are known. (In my defense, I had no idea how bad a Lima rush hour could be!) Nonetheless, I was mindful of the ticking moments because this was the night of my reservation at Central, which warns guests that tables will be hold for no more than 15 minutes. At some point, I thought, I might have to ask the driver to try to contact the restaurant to ask for a delay….

But somehow, we reached 3B with just enough time to have someone call for a taxi and for me to shower and change in record time. The newly ordered taxi arrived even as I ran down the stairs, and we got to the restaurant just before my 15-minute grace period ended, and as the driver left, I realized that I didn’t see the entrance – was it that uninviting door to my right, where 3 sulky men seem to be loitering, or the invitingly lit restaurant to my left, with an entrance around the corner? I opted for the latter, and even though reasonably certain, upon entering, that I had made the wrong choice, I waited patiently for someone to help me (even as my internal clock was screaming TIME IS CRITICAL!!!) – it was not the right place. Back at the massive and uninviting door, I swear the men smirked as one asked “Central?” and – only when I nodded – opened the door.

[Hint and / or warning: If you aren’t interested in my rant, skip to the next day!]

Once seated, waiters kept trying to force me to place my purse on a stand behind me. I’m sure it would have been safe, but I simply do not ever place my purse where I can’t control it; the ensuing confusion was not the best way to start a fine dining experience.

Unfortunately, I can’t say that the evening improved. Even before confirming my order (placed when reserving the table), staff seemed to move through the room so rapidly that I felt like I was watching a film based on slow-motion photography: People were here, then they were there, with no apparent time to get from one place to another! Their movement was so rapid that air currents lifted my hair into my face.

Soon, a server confirmed the wishes I had listed on my reservation and started to leave; I asked if I could please have a copy of the evening’s menu and pairings so that I could make notes. He stated that they provide that information only at the end of the meal. I said I would like to have it first. Please. He did oblige, and was glad to have it on hand, particularly because neither the food nor beverages that I was served consistently matched what was listed.

Service was SO very rapid, and in such a frenetic environment, that I began to experience indigestion after just the first three courses. I asked the waiter who had initially introduced himself to me to please slow the pace; he said he would. But if anything slowed, I saw no evidence. I asked a different server who had also been attending to my table to please, slow the pace. He said he would. No change. I began placing my hand quite literally over plates with which I was finished to prevent them from being taken – because once taken, they were replaced by the next course. Then, after I rebuffed the efforts of several waitstaff to remove one plate, another waiter appeared. I repeated my request for slower service. He said that Central intentionally strives for a very fast service to create the experience of the country. I repeated my preference for a slower pace. He said all I had needed to do was to ask. I noted that it was the 3rd time I had asked. He said he hadn’t known. He and other staff then ignored me for a rather surprisingly long interval. And then my final few courses were delivered at exactly the pace dictated by my covering hand. While I completed my meal, I was well aware that although other diners were still being served courses that I had eaten much earlier, and that the restaurant was closed to new clients – there is no possibility that I was being rushed to make space for anyone else, nor was I being rushed because no one else was there.

I understand that restaurants get to choose the pace they set – as a starting point. But I don’t understand why servers who are not under pressure to clear a table for a second seating or who are not left standing around because everyone else had left would fail to respect a diner’s repeated requests for a more leisurely pace. And I would say that no matter the cost! But to repeatedly refuse to modulate the pace at a restaurant at Central’s price point? Ridiculous.

But let’s backtrack a bit – my reason for going was for the food, right? My interest began with reports of this amazing opportunity to experience a range of dishes carefully designed to reflect many specific ecosystems within Peru. Well, I didn’t get uniformly great food – I got a few delicious tastes; some interesting, if mediocre bites; and a few frankly disappointing morsels, many served on dishes that were decidedly tacky.

And the inspiration was because of the unique and creative idea of putting Peru on a plate? Well, it turns out that chiriuchi, the traditional dish served in Cusco for Corpus Christi, was developed with exactly that idea. Central may sample more of the country, and split it into 17 different plates, but the idea is simply not unique.

Of the 3 high-end restaurants I visited in Lima, I’m going to take a wild guess – you have probably figured out that Central was my least favorite. Oddly, I don’t think I would have considered going to any of the 3 if I hadn’t been entranced by Central’s advertised image. Maido was the one I approached with the greatest trepidation, but was easily the most memorable. I have nothing bad to say of Astrid y Gastón; it certainly beat Central – IMO – by leaps and bounds.

BTW, during my remaining time in my Peru, I ran into several people who had dined at Central, and they all remarked that service was far too fast for their preferences. I wonder if that’s why staff at both Astrid y Gastón and Maido made such a point of letting me know that timing was under my control?

Enough complaining – though I hope these comments help others with their decisions!

Back to the 3B and my comfortable bed there….


Day 15: Lima

My plan had been to arise early and visit another museum before leaving Lima, but I had learned all too painfully that the times I had estimated for taxis could be substantially off. Instead, I slept in, lingered over another delicious breakfast, caught up on my journal, and wrote to friends and family.

As is obvious, I enjoy museums, and so I think I would have enjoyed more time in Lima, which has many other museums. And I would also like to see Caral, but as mlgb told me on my planning threads, it would have required a full day, and would be best in fog-free days – and while I don’t think I experienced la Garúa in any meaningful way, there was a bit of fog along the coast every day that I was in Lima – who knows what it would have been along the roads? So I left Lima with awareness that I had only skimmed its surface. Perhaps I will revisit some day….


Next up: Ayacucho

It looks like we visited a lot of the same places during your last full day in Lima. Like you, I was hesitant about taxis off the street on my first couple of days in Lima (after all, it was my first time in South America), but I was more relaxed after that. Always made sure the taxis were marked and had functioning meters though.

Day 14 should be read to the Beatles song A Day in the Life. Calm. Frantic. The orchestra building in the middle of the song is the restaurant scene.

Ok. Please continue.

Centro Cultural Amazónico José Pio Aza.. bien hecho, another place I've not been.

I was in the old Post Office when it was still functioning as one.. and again when it became the Gastronomy Museum (moderately interesting). You could return to Lima for another week (or two) and still not run out of museums, historic sights and markets.

Where did you find taxi with meters in Lima, tripplanner? Maybe thinking of somewhere else in South America? Ecuador, Colombia or Argentina perhaps? As far as I know, you still have to negotiate the price with the taxi before you set off in Lima (and come to think of it, all of Peru).

There are some Taxi apps out there that make using taxis less concerning for those with limited Spanish or knowledge of Lima. I have done okay with flagging street taxis the few times I've needed to (although not in Rimac!) At bus stations there is often a place where the safer taxis are allowed to park and I've been directed to those locations. I believe the Lima taxis are now at least required to be registered, although I'm not sure what that guarantees!

Mlgb, it's been 4 years since our visit and I also went to Brazil, so it is possible I am misremembering. I don't remember negotiating nor that any rides seem particularly expensive.

By "negotiating" I mean that a fixed price for the ride is agreed to in advance for the ride (should be done before one enters the taxi) and that there are no taxi meters. Not that one is engaging in some sort of bargaining give and take. Locals and hoteliers will know what a reasonable fare is for a particular journey. If you were always making "sure the taxis had functioning meters though", that wasn't Lima you were remembering.

@ tripplanner001: Peru was my first experience of South America, too! But – as mlgb’s response suggests – I didn’t see any taxis with meters while there. Many drivers used an app that let them calculate a route and suggest a fare, but I always negotiated the fare beforehand. In any event, I’m glad you don’t remember any rides that seemed particularly expensive!

@ xcountry: A Day in the Life is a perfect for that day! When the movie of my life is produced, I hope you will take the lead on selecting the music. I also hope that you have a profound knowledge of incredibly boring music.

@ mlgb: If you are interested in Amazonian peoples and their traditions, I think you would enjoy the Centro Cultural Amazónico José Pio Aza. It’s small, but I thought it informative.

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Day 15 to 18: Ayacucho

Day 15, cont.: Ayachucho

After a short flight – one of the few I took in Peru that actually afforded me some glimpses of the spectacular scenery below – I landed at Ayachucho’s tiny airport, where a driver was waiting for me. He soon brought me to the ViaVia Café Ayacucho, where I was given a room on the second floor. While the ViaVia’s location – right on the Plaza de Armas – could not be better, I was to learn that it’s a very popular place, with voices echoing off walls well into the night and then starting again just hours later. Too, I’m not a fan of bathroom areas that lack full walls – I want the bathroom to capture any steam generated by my showers, but this room has only half-walls around the bathroom. All-in-all, my reactions to the ViaVia Café Ayacucho were mixed.

Feeling ridiculously tired, given that I’d done next to nothing that day, I managed to drag myself outside a little before sunset.

What a charming Plaza de Armas! Lined by dark stone arcaded walks, most topped by a second level with balconies, the square itself held greenery and flowers and many people – courting couples, young families, people gathering after the day’s work or preparing to attend a service that was about to begin at the cathedral across the way, and many of the people were wearing beautifully colored traditional clothes with their incredible workmanship. As the sun set, lights came on, outlining every arch of the arcades and balconies – lovely!

I slowly roamed around, getting oriented and checking the locations of some places I wanted to visit while in the city. I also stopped in tour agencies to learn what I could about options for visiting the nearby Wari (aka Huari) ruins, but I couldn’t find anyone who spoke English and so decided to worry about that the next day. I found a grocery store -- and so a bottle of red wine -- just a short block along a pedestrian-only street leading off the main square and, on my way back to the ViaVia, was warmly greeted by someone who had said hello earlier – “Hola outra vez, senora!”—a call that I was to hear almost every time I walked through that section of arcade over the next few days, and to which I was happy to respond.

(An aside: Throughout Peru, why so many travel agents? And banks? And shops for cell phones? And pharmacies – many apparently run by the same company? Everywhere I went in Peru seemed to have more of each of these things within just a few blocks than I would have thought reasonable for entire districts. Granted, they’re almost all tiny....)

By the time I want to the ViaVia Cafe's restaurant, temperatures had dropped dramatically – it was cold!!! But it was wonderful to sit on that balcony and watch people enjoying that beautiful plaza and appreciate the lights of homes scattered around the hills surrounding the city’s core and, later, to delight in the unexpected explosions of a few fireworks. My dinner was excellent – I began with a huge serving of cream of asparagus soup, which I followed with my first taste of alpaca – a very generous serving of lomo saltado, a traditional Peruvian dish of meat sauteed with tomatos and onion and potato. Oooh, I’m going to have to sample more alpaca!

Tired as I was, I had trouble falling asleep because of both the noise and the cold, and once I did fall asleep, I awakened with surprising frequency. (I assure you that there is a reason for chronicling these complaints.) Just an opportunity to think about the wonderful things I’d seen and experienced, right?

Day 16: Ayacucho

After my fitful night’s sleep, I stayed in bed rather longer than usual, barely making it to the breakfast buffet before it ended. Served on the balcony, I was surprised by the chilliness of the air, and should, perhaps, have expected that the “hot” food would have cooled almost completely. Honestly, cold scrambled eggs and cold fried potatoes were not what I had hoped to eat.

As the day warmed, I began to feel a bit more awake, and crossing the plaza (at least I wasn’t so tired that I couldn’t appreciate it!), I found the iPeru office where – as I had read – there was a woman who spoke excellent English. I got a map and directions to various outlying sites (no need to take a tour!) and answers to a few questions.

As the morning progressed, the day warmed, as did the intensity of the sun. Beginning to get a bit of a headache, I decided to return to my room because I had forgotten my hat. Reaching the hotel at a ridiculously protracted pace, I looked at the staircase that separated me from my room and nearly cried – I was just too tired to face all those stairs! OK, I’m not the spring chicken I once was; and I’d had more than a few injuries leading up to, and so far during, the trip; and I hadn’t slept well, but seriously? A staircase made me want to give up in defeat?!? I briefly considered simply drinking myself into a stupor at one of the café’s tables, in the hope that someone might carry me to my room later, but decided that (a) they were unlikely to do that, and (b) I should hold that “option” in my pocket for a time after noon.

And then I realized what some of you have probably already concluded: I was reacting to the altitude! Oh thank goodness – there’s a reason!!! As soon as I could drag myself up those stairs (in other words, quite some time later ), I pulled out my iPad and checked -- Ayacucho is at 2,700 meters, enough to cause a reaction. I had, in my mind, reversed the altitudes of Ayacucho and Arequipa (only about 2,300) and so hadn’t prepared at all!

Fortunately, I never experienced true altitude sickness, but I also never found a way to breathe well once at or above about 2,700 meters, and that meant that I could never seem to get enough oxygen to my muscles. I think I already mentioned that it did get easier as I acclimated, but I never managed to go far or fast. Throw in the injuries, add the contrast to the many strong hikers and trekkers in the area, and OMG, I felt so very, very old! But better to see these places at a decrepit crawl than not to seem them at all – far better, IMO.

Having established that my symptoms were consistent with adjusting to altitude, but not indicative of altitude sickness per se (no nausea or vomiting or change in appetite; no dizziness, no loss of coordination), I began taking the Diamox I had carefully planned to start taking before reaching Arequipa. Very relieved to have found an explanation for how I felt, I left to begin exploring Ayacucho – slowly, very slowly.

My plan had been to try to go to Wari this day, and so I plodded, one step at a time, in the direction of the appropriate combi station, admiring various churches and park-like squares along the way. (I stopped to rest at most of them. I was so glad to find any opportunity to pause!)

I was surprised to come to a major market, which held many interesting and colorful elements – and more types of potatoes that I had ever seen. It was one of those markets where I think some women were saying I could take their pictures, but unless I was absolutely certain, I didn’t. I would have liked to do so, though, and not just for their striking attire, but also because their faces seemed incredibly expressive to me. In contrast, there were a few people (mostly men) who clearly wanted me to take their pictures, posing and posturing; I tried to oblige them as possible.

I think I was near the combi, but OMG, I was tired! Pausing briefly in an adjacent park, I examined my map and changed my plan – I would, instead, visit a small museum of interest to me that was reasonably close. Or would have been, had I not taken a wrong turn or two.

But plod on, I did, eventually reaching the small, sobering Museo de la Memoria, which testifies to the impact of the Shining Path on Peru in general and this particularly hard-hit area in particular. English signage was very limited, but IMO, the power of the displays spoke very clearly. Of the objects that had been donated by survivors, I was especially moved by a small metal bowl that someone said had been given to him early on, and that he said helped him and many others survive because even when they were offered food, they often didn’t have anything but their hands to hold or take it – the bowl let them take, and share, more. And there’s an incredibly moving wall of photographs of the family members of “the disappeared.” That some of those photographs seemed to have been taking recently served as a powerful reminder that these people have not been forgotten.

About 1.5 kilometers from the Plaza de Armas, I then began my exceedingly slow walk back – and, of course, managed to miss my turn off and so went to far. But that meant walking through some interesting areas near the center of town, including lots of shops and various churches and a very pleasant shady area where people gathered outside another of the city’s indoor markets (which I was to visit later) and beside work to restore a treasured church (by the Arco del Triumfo) and then a short pedestrian strip before I finally returned, utterly exhausted, to the ViaVia. And then I did something I almost never do – I took a nap. A long nap.

I’m glad to say that I felt a bit better when I awoke, and I continued to notice evidence of increasing acclimatization as time passed. Able to walk at a sauntering pace (rather than a plodding one), I checked out a few restaurants, and settled on La Casona, which unfortunately wasn’t a particularly good choice for my purposes. The staff could not have been nicer, but I found the food a bit disappointing.


Day 17: Ayacucho

Glad to find that I felt much better this day, I again set off for the combi to Wari, admiring a gorgeous butterfly in one of the little parks I passed on the way. Among the many passengers was a baby who seemed to find me utterly fascinating, and two youngsters who stared and stared at me, but absolutely refused to smile.

The Wari archeological site holds a very small museum in a building that recreates a building from that culture. Its few artificacts included some that I found very interesting, and I enjoyed seeing a father take his young daughter from exhibit to exhibit, patiently answering her questions and explaining various things.

Outside the museum, a small sign with an arrow points to a walk through a field to what looked like a pile of rubble. Curious, I followed the path, which I soon found went through another field, this one being worked by a farmer and his dog and by a grazing cow to a low wall, and then on from there…. It turned out to be a delighful walk that led to and beside some massive Wari walls and to an overlook with stunning views over a wide valley and on to a dig where parts of homes and part of a ceremonial center and canals for water can be seen. There were lots of blooming cacti and enough butterflies that some shrubs seemed to shimmer and glitter with them and impressive mountain ridges in the far distance in just about every direction. Nice!

I joined a few people waiting for a combi beside a row of shelters where women sold produce and crafts. One of the vendors must have know exactly where to look or what sounds to listen for, because she signalled to us all before the combi rounded the curve. Children piled onto laps and adults moved closer to one another to make space, and every time we stopped there was a musical-chairs-like moment as everyone shifted to free whoever was departing or to accommodate whoever boarded.

My next stop was in Quinua, which my more dated guidebooks described as having a particularly notable artisans’ market. I think, though, that most of that market has now relocated to Ayacucho, and Quinua’s farmers’ market was nearly empty, with just a few women still selling late hot lunches or some produce. I bought a beer from a nearby shop, found a shady spot to sit, and watched children gleefully enjoying a small playground. One little girl kept climbing up the slide, sending her backpack down, and then following it face first, laughing every time she hit it. I could be wrong, but that didn’t seem the best strategy.

The combi ride back to Ayacucho proved a test of my ability to tolerate being in a speeding vehicle on twisty mountain roads – there were lots of precipitous drops and the driver all too frequently passed a slower vehicle in clearly marked no-passing zones and I just kept repeating to myself, “the driver wants to live, the driver wants to live, does the driver have even the tiniest idea of the risks he is taking?, the driver wants to live….” I remembered Kathie’s advice to look up, and I managed to convince myself that even if I was about to die, I might as well enjoy the scenery – and it was beautiful! Stark, pale grey, broken hills supported cacti wherever they could, and the road afforded some glimpses of a rushing stream in the valley far below. The area seemed rather desolate – enough so that tiny Ayacucho seemed decidedly urban.

Once in town, I returned to iPeru to thank the helpful woman there and get directions to take a bus to a museum I wanted to see. She couldn’t have been clearer, so why I immediately turned in the wrong direction is beyond me. (I don't think cognitive slippage is a symptom of altitude sickness. I'm blaming lack of sleep. Think what you will!) Quickly recognizing my error, I was just retracing my steps when I saw the bus I wanted. This bus, like others I saw in Ayacucho, had a person who stood by the door making sure that people paid and – in my case – making sure I got off at the right place. (I think mlgb told us that he’s a cobrador?)

The Museo Arqueologico Hipolito Unanue is actually a complex that includes a library, theater, and botanical garden. Having mistaken the library for the museum, I was rewarded by a small temporary exhibit of local art. The museum itself is small, and I was asked to wait a few minutes because a large group had just entered. It was well worth the short wait! Among its holdings were some glorious Wari textiles (with designs that made me think of Klimt) and trepanned skulls (one with 9 holes that I could see!) and some massive and very impressive carved stone statues from the Wari site.

The botanical garden used a series of tightly winding paths to create a surprising number of distinct areas in what was actually a very small space – nice!

I slowly returned to the Plaza de Armas in time to savor a pisco sour while watching the sun set and the lights come on around the square. A little later, I dined at Sukre Cocina Peruana. I had expected a modern take on traditional Peruvian dishes, but instead, the dishes seemed to be international in character. Peruvian or not, it was delicious – I began with a cheese soup and followed that with an entrée of chicken roulades stuffed with ham and topped with a very nicely balanced mushroom cream sauce.


Day 18: Ayacucho

I began the day with my first cup of coca tea – something I was to do basically every day of the rest of my trip. I had seen the basket of leaves next to the ViaVia’s breakfast buffet, and so put a few into a cup and was adding hot water when a server neared; I asked her to show me what to do. She looked at my cup, set it aside, took another cup into which she put a huge pile of leaves and then water. I don’t know if coca tea helped me, though I suspect it did; it certainly didn’t seem to hurt.

As I stepped out of the hotel a bit later, people were gathering around the square – some kind of event was about to occur. I’m not sure quite what it was, but there were announcements and a band played and then a large group of children dressed in colonial uniforms started parading around the square, led by an older man on a horse who seemed to want to move at a decidedly different pace then was allowed (resulting in lots of side steps and tossing of the mane and neighs). Then there were children dressed as commoners, and a "prisoner" with bound hands…. Obviously, some kind of historic recreation, but I don’t know the history of the area well enough to place it. But the children and many proud parents and other townspeople seemed to be having fun; I did!

The Cathedral surprised me – one wall was almost entirely given to elaborate gilded altars, testifying to the wealth that must once have characterized this area, in apparent contrast to its current status. The small Museo de Arte Popular, also on the main square, held a number of interesting objects, most notably a number of retables filled with incredibly detailed elements.

Passing through Ayacucho’s Arco del Triunfo, I returned to the indoor market near the church under restoration. This very large market extended quite some distance, with produce and meats and crafts and hot food stands and a small group of people dressed in “Amazonian” costume who were dancing and drumming through the aisles for tips. I do like a nice market!

Just a bit further, I came to the Andres Avelino Careers Museum – the preserved Colonial courtyard home of a local hero. With period furnishings and mementos of his life, my favorite part was the courtyard itself, which held a stunning poinsietta tree in full bloom – glorious!

After a final “Hola outra vez, Senora!” and a surprisingly warm greeting from the same taxi driver who had initially delivered me to the ViaVia Café, I returned to the airport for a long wait before staff began checking people in for their flights. One man searched my suitcase, pulling out various items and holding them up to the light – I assume to see whether I had tried to hide anything inside. I was only able to get my boarding pass after he completed his inspection, and then, for reasons I never understood, it took a full 15 minutes for the agent to complete that step. He typed and read and typed and looked at my itinerary and typed and read and asked me to write out the names and addresses of my family and typed and read…. I eventually got my boarding pass and moved into the terminal area, where I waited some more. I was routed through Lima, where I now knew exactly where to go, and then (of course) my flight to Arequipa was held on the tarmac after being loaded – but I now knew to expect that.

I’m very glad I included Ayacucho in my itinerary! It was the least touristed of the places I stayed, and I liked that: It had an aura of authenticity that I found very appealing. I could be mistaken, but I had the sense that poverty is not entirely unknown in the area, and that the local Quechuan people often live very hard lives, but I was definitely impressed with their dignity and with the warmth and kindness of everyone I encountered in the area.


Next up: Arequipa

Apologies for the wrong information on the taxis; it's my recollection, which is obviously incorrect, but I did not intend to mislead anyone.

Your description of the band brought a smile to my face. Experiencing what seemed to be impromptu bands playing, dancers in elaborate costumes, and parades were definitely one of the highlights of my visit to Peru.