It All Begins in Lima

« Return to Peru

Because of the class contrast, as severe as anything I’ve seen since Apartheid, Lima is widely regarded as one of the more dangerous places to visit. Like Johannesburg, there is electric fences and private guards everywhere, people lock their doors, don’t stop at red lights. “We would never come here during the week,” says Melissa as we stroll through the old city. “On Sunday, is OK.”
Shortly afterwards, a water balloon narrowly misses me, thrown from a balcony above. That’s danger I can live with, but then again, it did narrowly miss.
Native people, descendants of the mighty Incas, are servants and street cleaners, beggars and gardeners, living in favela-like slums on the surrounding hills. White neighbourhoods like Miraflores are modern, clean and tree-lined beautiful, attracting tourists and the guys who fleece them. Several times a day I thought I was somewhere in the US, anywhere but Peru. The same patterns, a different world. Except we all like mayo with our chicken.

My final day in Lima took me to two exclusive country clubs, where beautiful, wealthy women lie on the beach while their husbands…lie on the beach. Sucking back some Tiger’s Milk (ceviche juice, yum!), I met Mr Lima’s buddies before snapping some great pics that show the contrast of Lima. A beautiful green fairway surrounded by mountains, and on those mountains, barriodas, or junk towns. We drove on its border and it reminded me quite clearly of Soweto. But not for too long, because the way these people drive, I was mostly praying for survival. If you can imagine a party where every person you meet invades your space with heavy garlic breath, you can imagine how cars literally rub up to each other, swing into on-coming traffic using lights and lanes the way grandmas use trampolines. “There are two things to tell the world about Lima,” says Juan Carlos, or Juan Antonio, or Jose Luis. “Firstly, this is the capital of food in South America. Secondly, we have beautiful beaches with beautiful girls.” Nothing I have seen or eaten would contradict that statement. Melissa once again showed me a grand old time in the evening, and I lay awake knowing that everything would change tomorrow – a different town, different people.

I write with altitude-shaky hands from Cuzco, but Lima deserved its own report. Joseph “Mr Lima” Berry has taken such good care of me I can barely stand it, schlepping me all over the place, sorting out contacts in Chile and Bolivia. The guy sees gringos like me in trouble, and helps them out because he likes to. He’ll take good care of you too. Before leaving South America, I have to return to Lima to catch my flight to Prague. I originally regretted the inconvenience, but now I eagerly await returning to this fascinating city and the warm, genuine people who inhabit it.

Hotel Amaru
Cusco

Gonzo Gallery for It All Begins in Lima

view full gallery

Tweet