I wake up to a damp and cold apartment on day 2 of my stay
in Lima. I try to recall Tara Brach’s inspiring statements from last night. “Imperfection
is not our personal problem - it is a natural part of existing.” That converts my interpretation of the damp and cold
into something tolerable and impermanent just as all authors I have been
reading lately instruct.
When we accept things as they are everything becomes easier and lighter, try it...
I check my cell phone: Good news, my hostess responded to my request from last night. She will bring to the apartment a space heater and an additional comforter today. The hot water coming out of the faucet is the immediate good news that makes me childishly happy! Overnight heating of that small water tank was what was needed apparently. After a hot shower I am a happy camper ready to go out to explore the art scene of Lima.
I check my cell phone: Good news, my hostess responded to my request from last night. She will bring to the apartment a space heater and an additional comforter today. The hot water coming out of the faucet is the immediate good news that makes me childishly happy! Overnight heating of that small water tank was what was needed apparently. After a hot shower I am a happy camper ready to go out to explore the art scene of Lima.
I have to walk through the Jesus Maria neighborhood and get
to the Pueblo Libre where two major museums are located: As I walk toward the Archeology,
Anthropology, and History museum I find myself in front of the National Social Security
Hospital located in a huge complex, covering an area of numerous city blocks. As
a physician, after making a mental note of the size of the hospital, I notice
the breakfast vendors on all street corners surrounded with people, who are
after low priced, traditional food before they get to work. When I cross the
street to take a picture of some of them, I notice a corner one story building,
at the very corner of which is an opening to what I will discover is one of the
“holes in the wall” that my travel book mentioned!
There are only four tables semi-circling a TV set mounted
onto the wall, on which the Independence Day festivities are being broadcast.
All four are occupied by what I will understand to be patients, probably
waiting for their appointment at the hospital. Staff on the other hand is
easily recognized by their rush to pick up their breakfast and coffee; they
probably enjoy it with friends at work. This place is run by only women, the
server, the cashier, the washer and the cook are all early middle age women,
Magaly, Marilla, Marieni, and Tina, I will learn later! I want to give my
business to them. I order a cheese egg sandwich. They eat, pork, chicken, beef
sandwiches for breakfast here, not quite my cup of tea!
I sit at the mini bar by the window and start observing my
surroundings. Staff and patients or patient families are two groups of
customers I can discern. I am like a sore thumb, It is very clear that I am a
Gringa with my minimal Spanish,, with attire that makes me neither hospital
staff nor anything similar to their customers. However, I don’t have any
feelings of not belonging; the four women are happy that I have breakfast there
although they can’t put me in any box. I wish they hadn’t been so busy, I would
have liked to talk with them.
A young man walks in and places his order. He also notices
me, I can tell from his body language that he is curious and is willing to talk
if I chat him up and I do. He is a doctor, but has administrative duties. I
tell him about myself and my vacation in Lima. He is happy to hear that I like
Lima. This “How do you like ‘my country’” is a constant across all nations from
Turkey to all other countries I have visited. His four cups of coffee and
breakfast items are ready and he has to go. We part with smiles and his very
polite “Mucho gusto conocerla” I am very happy that I met you.
I have ordered a portion of papaya as well. I notice that
the woman preparing my plate chooses the ripest papaya slices off the display
plate, my heart warms up to her, not necessarily because I will get what I want
but more so because of the kindness in her heart that she shows me. And the
portion is huge, I wonder if everybody gets this portion or are they treating
me as a guest sent by God as is the norm in Turkish culture. And all this food
costs only 11 Soles, equivalent of 3.5 USD! Unbelievable, when I tell her I
don’t need any change from the 15 soles I give her, she is in disbelief, it is
lovely to see the overjoy on their faces.
City Center, Miraflores, Barranco are lined up north to south in Lima. Not on the map is Chorillos, further south.
I will notice that tipping in this country is more for high end restaurants not for these holes in the wall. Another observation I will make as the days go by is that “tiendas” stores of all kinds like this hole in the wall are a unique feature of Peru: This mini-restaurant is a free standing shack. But many other stores I will come across are part of a house with one room having a door opening to the outside world, turns into a store: I will see bakeries, restaurants, mini delis, sewing shops, shoe repair shops in tiny stores no more than 15-20 square feet all around Lima.
After I parting with these lovely four women, I start
walking toward a big avenue. As I walk along the avenue, I notice that this
avenue has lots of buses going up and down. Buses with several words on their
side, which I resolve must be the main stops on their route. And volla, one
comes by the words I was looking for: Currillos, Barranco, Miraflores. All
three happen to be some of the neighborhoods I would like to visit. At the end
of the line of words are Js Maria, abbreviation for my neighborhood and Tda
Salaverry Av, which I assume must mean, the entire length of the avenue. This
is a bus that must be coming from the south traveling across this north-south
bound avenue traveling to downtown. When I cross the avenue, my suspicion is verified, a bus
with the exact same words on it travels south, too. Right at that moment, I
change my plan for the day and in a minute, I am on my way to Barranco.
However, on the way to Barranco, I study my “CityMaps” app on my phone and
decide to get off in Miraflores and go visit Huaca Pucllana, one of the ancient
temples in town that has been excavated. Miraflores clearly is more an upper
middle class to upper class neighborhood. Holes in the wall are rare, if at all,
instead fancy restaurants line some of the avenues I cross along with some
imported from North America.
I have to mention the “CityMaps” app, which a special friend
of mine had downloaded on my phone years ago, is a phenomenal tool. I downloaded
the map of Lima, when I had wi-fi. As I studied my travel book for things to do
in Lima, I was able to find them all on the map and mark them on it before
flying to Lima. Then when on the road with no wi-fi access, I will appreciate
the fact that I will as not be able to see everything that I marked on it, but
also will be able to see at all times where I am in the city! Thus, this map and the information I entered
on it will allow me both to plan every day of my time in Lima but also use the
bus system with great confidence and sense of safety. I send my loving kindness
thoughts and appreciation to my dear friend for giving me this gift of an
exceptionally intelligent “GPS” system.
I find Huaca Pucllana very easily. At the ticket line, I
discover how much they respect elderly in Peru. Not only here, but at pretty
much all museums, they don’t even ask my age or proof for it. Looking at my
white hair they assume I am a “mayor” (elderly) and charge me half to 2/3 of
the price varying from place to place. The cut-off age is 60, I don’t fight for
youth, in 4 months I will turn 60 after all!
Temple is surrounded with residential neighborhoods circumferentially
Huaca Pucllana is a pyramid shaped temple dating from
200-700 AD. Around the temple were small villages, the residents of which most
likely both provided for the clergy living in the temple and also worshipped
here. There is a kitchen where, our mandatory guide tells us the displayed red
pots were used to keep potatoes, corn, and even fish. He also tells us the shark
remains found here during excavations led to the inference that the fishermen
in the surrounding villages must have gone out to sea at least 20-30 miles and
fished shark and brought it to the temple.
The walls are interesting: bricks were made mixing the soil with
crushed seashells. The bricks were vertically lined side by side with some
space every so many bricks, which coined the bookcase technique. On top of one
layer of vertically laid bricks, they poured a cement-like mixture to seal the
lower layer together. Then they started the process again… He tells us, the
huge pyramid we are looking at is solid full of such layers of bricks with no hollow
space within. When Waris conquered Lima region, they used this temple to bury
their royal people, hence the bones discovered on the site.
By the time, I leave Huaca Pucllana, I am hungry and my goal
is to find La Mar, the infamous ceviche place in Miraflores. As I approach on
foot to the restaurant, I sense that beach culture takes over since we are now
much closer to the Miraflores Promenade. La Mar is built on a triangular corner
lot with bamboo ceiling. I can’t believe what a busy place this is. One of the
consequences of traveling along is I end up eating at the bar quite often, if
the restaurant is busy. Sometimes, it is inconvenient, but what can you do?
This time it turns into a pleasant experience: I can see first-hand how the waiters are like
ants in this restaurant, running around taking orders, delivering orders to the
chefs, who are cooking right before my eyes, picking up prepared dishes off the
kitchen bar, which is right next to me, how a young cook is coached by his
mentor on kneading dough, among other things. I enjoy watching the young cook.
He certainly doesn’t use any measures, no surprise there. After kneading his
dough, he puts a piece of it in his mouth, decides it needs a bit more liquid,
and back to kneading some more.
Now is the time to go to the coast. My plan is to walk all
along the coast as far as I can go, knowing that if I go as far as Barranco,
there is a bus from Barranco to my apartment. To my pleasant surprise the park along the
coast that CityMap shows happens to be located on top of a very high cliff. This
park on the cliffs of Miraflores and Barranco continues for miles. Down below
is a highway behind the beach constantly beat up by the energetic surf of the
Pacific Ocean. There are multiple trails that switchback down the cliff extending
to overpasses bringing joggers, strollers, and runners to the very beach by the
ocean.
Cafe la Buena Vista, which certainly rises up to its name:
It will turn out to be one of the most pleasant places in all of Lima for me.
It is on a small plateau on top of the cliff. At the entrance they have
plastered the word coffee in tens of languages, and to my surprise the Turkish
“Kahve” is there, too! Unfortunately, the closest they have, to Turkish or
Greek coffee, is espresso. Small wooden tables and chairs are hosting quite a
few locals. When I get the corner table with a wooden bench, under a tree, I am
beyond this world. There is nothing between the ocean and I for miles and miles
in both directions.
I just give in to the meditative embrace of the ocean
dancing with great force down below for miles and miles... There are 5
men/women out in the ocean surfing. Three of them are close by, two are way out
beyond where the waves start breaking. The ones closer to the beach get out one
by one. Those far away have to wait for the right waves to appear to ride the
waves to get to the coast. One is luckier than the last. That one waits and
waits, patiently, just like I. I am fixed on him/her. He tries several times
with a wave or two, without success.
The brown/black color in fact is not the color of the soil, it is a net covering the entire cliff to prevent falling rocks
Eventually, he catches one, I am sure it is not an easy one to ride since this one is also a very low wave. But it is getting dark and somebody on the beach is constantly whistling to warn the surfers it is time to come out. He finally rides the wave half the distance between himself and the beach and swims the rest. What endurance and patience… I am full of admiration and compassion.
The brown/black color in fact is not the color of the soil, it is a net covering the entire cliff to prevent falling rocks
Eventually, he catches one, I am sure it is not an easy one to ride since this one is also a very low wave. But it is getting dark and somebody on the beach is constantly whistling to warn the surfers it is time to come out. He finally rides the wave half the distance between himself and the beach and swims the rest. What endurance and patience… I am full of admiration and compassion.
Without
knowing it I stumbled upon what I had marked as a place to see in my travel
book: El Parque del Amor. Now I am in more of an awe… Quite few of visitors are already following
suit and making out in a relatively quieter and darker section of the wall…
being young, what a beautiful gift… This walk with this touch, will make today
the most sensual part of my trip to Lima. I meander around the man and the
woman gently dissolving in each other’s arms at a platform, 20 feet above us.
Can’t help but think dusk at Melacone is something else. I never saw any such
trail along the water from such an elevation anywhere in the world, not that I
have just a few countries left to visit.
Locals call this
promanade extending for miles and miles on the cliffs of Lima, Melacone. One not
only is pleasantly surprised by what the trail has to offer like this statue,
like the café, among others, but can also sense the mighty power of the Pacific
even from this distance and occasionally even by hearing the clash between the
ocean and the rocks. Waves create large patches of white foam covering an acre
or so of the surface of the Pacific with each come and go of the salt water. I
can see such wild surf all along the coastal line as far as one can see, all the
way to Barranco, perhaps even Chorrillos.
Surfers are
busy catching and riding the ways. I am curious about what the beach will feel
like close-up. I follow the locals down the steps out of the park and onto one
of the overpasses, and soon I am on the beach. The beach is nothing like one would
find on the Caribbean islands or along the Aegean coast. It consists of potato
size stones with larger ones and parts of tree trunks scattered here and there.
To the south of Melacone is Chorillos behind the veil of an unrelenting fog
People are
using the latter as seats and I follow suit. The young woman sitting next to me
on a rock is not moving at all, her eyes closed. Is she meditating just as I am
planning to do? I situate myself on the rock and set my intention on taking in
as much of the ocean as I can, its scent, its waves, and its sounds… I never
heard the ocean breath in so deeply and loudly. One wave crashes on the rocks
and as the water recedes, it sounds as if a giant is taking a deep, I mean deep
and hoarse breath before she trashes herself against what she’s let go of again
with the next wave. I synchronize my breath with that of the ocean’s… Such a
lovely dance… Gradually, I close my eyes, as I continue listening to the
ocean’s rhythm, I can see what is happening out there with my mind’s eye… This
memory will come with me back to Iowa City, for sure…
When I open
my eyes, the young woman is gone, it has gotten a bit darker. I start walking further
south, I notice that the lights of the place I want to go to are on, too. La
Rosa de Nautica, on a pier, right on top of the water, a very common theme in
Turkey. I feel at home instantaneously. I take a picture of a grandmother and
her grandchildren in front of the rose wall at the entrance. It appears, it is
not only a tradition to take pictures in front of this huge wall covered with
fresh rose cuts through and through, but also take one of the roses! I will do
the latter on the way out, which will become a gift to myself for the day.
I order a
seabass stew/soup, "delicioso"!!! Again I get a table barely for two at the very
far end of the deck, the place is packed! I am content, as soon as the outdoor
heater, which is somewhat blocking my view of the beach is moved to the side, I
have the ocean all to myself. By this time of the evening, the breathing
pattern of the ocean has calmed down. She is more of a sublime little girl,
now, as if moving her skirt this side and the other with a subtle coquettish
dance. And the lights from the top of the cliff, shining on her surface take me
back to the Aegean one more time… I walk back up the overpass and switchbacks to the top of the cliff. There are very few people on the trail now, but for some reason, I don’t feel any fear. I know I am quite far away from even the south end of the Salaverry Avenue and I don’t know what route the bus follows past the avenue. But I trust, I will find a way. After I walk to the north end of the park, I get out onto the street and tell a teenage appearing girl, watching a group of other teenagers doing some theatrical show “I want to go to Jesus Maria”. Her response is “Oh, you need a bus.” That would be my next question.
It turns out
the bus stop is just two blocks away. On the bus, around 9 pm, I look around,
everybody is sweet looking, warm, responsive when ask a question. I feel safe. I
like these people… I am so happy I didn’t follow my
travel book’s instructions this morning and took the bus. I am grateful that by
chance I found the Salaverry Avenue and figured out the bus system. Another grateful
“prayer” goes to my dear friend, who gave me the tool of CityMaps app, which
keeps me confident and safe.
Pacific energy...
Tara Brach’s comments come
to mind: When we feel safe, nothing touches us; when we are troubled by others,
we need to look what is within. The answer lies there… I so agree with you
Tara. Every time I have negative feelings and manage to look deep within, I do
find that fear is the mother of all negativity… May all, who experience fear
either find the inner courage to dive deeper and understand the origin of their
fear, or have loving caring people around them who would look them in the eye as Thich Nhat Hanh
suggests, "Darling, I care about your suffering and I am here for you.",
because that is when deep healing begins. 
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| If only we could give this gift to everybody we touch, especially those that are closest to us... |
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