Coastal Peru is a grey and bitter land. The Humboldt Current, carrying cold Antarctic water, sweeps northward along the coast here as it brings nutrients from the depths and creates one of the world's great fisheries. But it also has a profound and startling effect upon the land, depriving it of rain and leaving it rocky and devoid of plant life – it's one of the most formidable deserts in the world. This area would be our next destination.
From Ayacucho we took the overnight 'Bus Cama' (Bed Bus) to Lima to spend Christmas there with the extended Lanao Flores family. We would have preferred to take a daytime bus and enjoy the scenery, but everyone told us the only safe buses were the Cruz del Sur line because they're speed controlled. The others go too fast and have frequent accidents (we've seen the stories in the local paper). And Cruz del Sur, unfortunately, only travels at night. It may even be a strategy of theirs to avoid all the other crazies on the road.
The bus left at 10 pm and wound its way down from 9,000 feet to sea level, arriving in Lima at 7 am. At 100 soles apiece (about US$35), it's an inexpensive way to travel since the air fare would set you back US$130. Plus, you can sleep aboard and save a hotel room. That is, as long as you're not a tall gringo. In Peru, I'm a tall gringo. While I'm not considered exceptionally tall by US standards, at 6'2" I stand a head above most people here – and even head and shoulders above quite a few. Plus, I have size 12 feet. Getting all that stuffed into a Peruvian-sized reclining seat proved to be a challenge.
We had read about wonderful Bus Camas with fully reclining beds in private cabins. But found out that those are not offered on the Ayacucho route. We'd just have to make do as best we could.
The problem became acute when the fellow in the seat in front of me reclined his all the way back and I was sandwiched there for the duration. I sat up for a while watching a bad movie about some fire department in Georgia, USA – dubbed into Spanish. But the DVD kept sticking, and the driver finally just ejected it. Then I read for a while to get myself really good and tired. Ultimately, I drifted off to sleep. For a while anyway. Then I was awake and checking my watch. Surely, dawn was almost upon us. But it was only 1:30 am. Outside my window, the landscape was moonless and black. We passed a brightly-lighted toll booth, and then plunged back into darkness. I caught a few more winks, then awoke to check my watch. It was 3 am. I consoled myself by remembering we're saving almost US$200 by taking the bus. And what, really, is the difference between sitting up all day, and sitting up all night? Besides having something outside the window to look at?
After a long and restless night, the sun dawned over a barren landscape as we headed north on the Pan-Americana that runs along the coast on the final leg into Lima. Outside the window, grey hills folded into massive sand dunes without a speck of green to be seen anywhere. There are deserts and then there are these stretches of northern Chile and coastal Peru, where rainfall has never been recorded in human history. I grew up in the desert southwestern US. I'm used to dry dusty plains, cactus, thorny bushes and endless burnt vistas with dry desert mountains hovering in the far distance, charged with mystery.
I'm familiar with hot deserts. There are also cold deserts, like the Gobi. But this is a strange, cool, desert just below the Equator. It never gets hot and it never approaches freezing. A temperature chart of Lima shows a yearly range of about 55 degreesF for a low, to around 80 degrees for a high. That's only a 25 degree yearly difference. The yearly precipitation chart shows almost no measurable rainfall.
To find myself in a landscape with absolutely nothing growing at all, not even lichen, is a real revelation. There's nothing outside my window but earthquake-shattered rock mingled with grey sand from the ocean. The often-overused term "moonscape" is entirely appropriate here. I try to figure a way to get a picture of the dry emptiness outside my window, but fail. How do you picture 'nothing?'
And what makes the scene even more incongruous is the heavy wet fog, called 'garua' which hangs over the Lima area, and gives everything an even greyer cast. A bit north of here, where the Peruvian coastline turns easterly toward Central America, the cold Humboldt Current merges into warm tropical waters flowing south along the coast of Ecuador. This collision of temperature differential produces the garua which blankets Lima much of the year, and protects it from temperature extremes. But, while it's a wet fog, it doesn't seem to do much for the landscape here. What green areas there are in the city – parks and plazas, and private homes in the wealthy Miraflores and San Isidro areas, mostly – are fed by irrigation waters from the three rivers which carry seasonal waters down from the Andes to the sea. A walk along the tree-lined streets of these neighbors can be a very pleasant way to spend the day. With just a little extra water, the land blooms in profusion. Plants seem to love the humid air and filtered sunshine. And just outside the city, there are broad fields where various crops are grown to feed the city. Trees and bushes often ring the fields. And then there's nothing. Only strangely barren ground, grey and lifeless, a cadaverous and disturbing color.
But our friends, Juan and Rocio, are waiting at the bus station for our arrival, and they take us off to Atinchik, their verdant oasis nestled into the foot of a tall barren hill – a small mountain, really. Beyond the beautiful tall trees which grace their grounds is a vista of similar, small, mist-covered mountains by the Pacific Ocean. The grounds at Atinchik are lush with almost every kind of tropical plant imaginable. The crowns of tall jacaranda and ceibo trees, and a few towering fan palms, shelter banana groves, papaya trees and mossy brick walkways lined with fragrant flowering bushes. The jacarandas produce a daily rain of blue flowers that carpets the ground below. The trees are filled with the sounds of various exotic birds and squabbling parrots, while the call of mourning doves fills the background. It's a perfect setting for the many workshops and retreats conducted by Atinchik (a Quechua word meaning "Working Together"). We mention that this would also be a perfect place for painting, writing and poetry workshops, but sense that Juan and Rocio have their hands full as it is.
Juan proudly shows us the extensive garden that produces virtually all of the vegetables used in their large and well-organized commercial kitchen. There are long rows of chard, onions, tomatoes, parsley, and cabbage nestled among the trees and waiting to be picked by discerning hands. Dill, thyme, rosemary and lavender occupy various niches in gardens and along walkways. Raspberries, grapes, and nasturtiums line a hidden path. Juan is particularly proud of the lush rows of fragrant lavender he started from seeds.
An organization called Candela is there when we arrive, and we are included in the delicious lunches and dinners they enjoy. The group, run by Rocio's sister Lupe and husband Gastón, harvests and markets sustainable crops like castañas (Brazil nuts) from the selva (the jungle). For dinner, Juan prepares delicate raviolis filled with chopped castañas along with chard harvested fresh from the garden. The flavor was memorable and we mention it to them later as a high point of our trip.
There was also a "pachamanca" for Candela's final lunch. It's a Peruvian pit roast where a fire is started in a deep pit to heat the ground and rocks, and then layers of pork and chicken are placed in the ground along with potatoes, vegetables and fruit. The whole thing is covered with wet burlap, banana leaves, and hot rocks, and left to cook for several hours. As with all the food at Atinchik, it also was delicious.
After the staff from Candela leaves, one of the first orders of business is getting everything ready for Christmas Dinner for the entire family. Everyone remembered Carolyn's wonderful zapallo (pumpkin) pies from Thanksgiving, and she's enlisted for a repeat performance. By dinner time, there are plates of every imaginable side dish to accompany a large roast turkey. The family eats well and they play 'naipes' (a Spanish card game) late into the night with Grandpa Aquiles, and most decide to spend the night in one of the many available rooms. They're good, interesting, and accomplished people to be around, and I even forgot to take pictures of the feast.
After the family departs, Juan and Rocio take us, along with their sons, Mario and Juan Manuel, to see Barrio Chino, Lima's extensive and colorful Chinatown. Juan scans the various stalls for interesting spices as we stroll through the sprawling main market past racks of chickens and ducks, young goats (cabritos), and cuts of beef, hanging in rows. We end our visit with a large lunch at one of the many 'chifas' (Chinese restaurants) in the area.
We spend our days at Atinchik living in a charming room overlooking the grounds. Juan and Rocio, the ultimate hosts, won't let us pay for our room or board, so we spend our days doing design work to try to earn our keep. There's been a period of uncharacteristic rainfall for the past couple of weeks (along with a lot of discussion, locally, about climate change) and a problem has developed with water leaking into a few of the rooms. I spend my time working out a way to gracefully extend the existing roofline to provide better protection, and give the building a unified design. I also work out some ideas for a home site they have on the adjacent property. It's perched on the side of a hill and has the potential for some dramatic vistas. Carolyn worked on ideas for better furniture arrangements, lighting, and decor to optimize the rooms. And both of us indulged ourselves with reading.
In the evenings, Juan and Rocio concoct simple and delicious dinners from the gardens. It's fascinating to watch them in the kitchen, as it seems to be their natural habitat. A pile of fresh onions is quickly chopped and placed into a large skillet on their sturdy commercial range. Vainitas (green beans) are stirred into the simmering onions, and pecans are added for a delicious side dish to accompany braised slabs of turkey left over from Christmas dinner.
On our last night at Atinchik, Juan and Rocio take us in to the simple nearby town of Pachacamác for dinner and we're treated to a very nice surprise. There, just off a tiny plaza is "Las Chimeneas Bistro." We step through the door and into a world of art-covered walls, soft music, and white tablecloths with wine glasses awaiting our arrival. It's as if we'd just stepped into a fine Bay Area restaurant, but with a Peruvian twist. I order the raviolis al ají de gallina and Carolyn has the alcachofa gratinada. Both of them are excellent. I order a glass of good Mendoza dry red wine, and follow up with the crepes suzettes for a fine finish to a wonderful evening. Juan, as usual, insists on paying for dinner.
But it's time to leave. We're starting to feel a bit like free-loaders – a new term we try to explain to our too-wonderful hosts. We realize again what a rare gift it is to have friends in distant lands. And at this rate, we are saving more money than we'd ever imagined. That would soon change as we head into Lima for several days on our own. Still, it's time we left wonderful Atinchik.
We book a room at the San Antonio Abad Hotel in a quiet neighborhood in Miraflores. The rooms are nicely old-fashioned, and quiet. There's a bright breakfast area looking into a pleasant courtyard. It's a reasonable walking distance to the commercial area along Avenida José Larco, and not far from the dramatic cliffs and parks overlooking the Pacific. There are also several good small restaurants on quiet neighborhood streets within a block or two of the hotel.
We decide to stay in Lima until after New Years as we could accomplish little in Ayacucho until then. We plan to see what museums are still open during the holidays, but that turns out to be a bust since the main art museums are undergoing extensive renovation work. They're putting a lot of money into the Lima Art Museum and plan to re-open in March of 2010 with a major photo exhibition by Mario Testino, the world-famous, and Peruvian-born, fashion photographer. He's considered the 'heir' of Richard Avedon and Irving Penn, so it should be a show well worth seeing. But, alas, we'll be long gone by then.
We spend a lot of time wandering through the Parque de los Museos and admiring the fine buildings from the outside. Then we head toward downtown and walk through the broad and beautiful, and newly renovated, Plaza San Martín, surrounded by tall, cream-colored classical buildings.
On a nearby street corner we catch a "collectivo" to the San Isidro neighborhood where we walk along tree-lined streets through quiet neighborhoods as we wander slowly back to the Miraflores area. While many older mansions and embassies still line the streets of Miraflores, this is an area of dynamic change and urbanization. Especially around the Parque Central. It's hard to find a block near the Parque, or along the cliffs overlooking the nearby Pacific Ocean, without a tall condo project or two under construction. And you could also spend a long time staying at a gorgeous boutique hotel in the area without running out of excellent small restaurants to enjoy. In fact, very fine dining appears to be one of the main, and very enjoyable, cultural events among the well-to-do in Lima.
Overall, it was a long day and we covered a lot of ground walking (between 5 and 10 miles). That's always the best way to experience any important city, of which the world has quite a few. It gave us a much broader picture of the most beautiful areas of this city of more than 8 million people. We returned to the hotel exhausted and, well, hungry. It was New Years Eve, so we cleaned ourselves up a bit and walked half a block, to Trattoria Don Vito, to enjoy a delicious (and expensive) dinner and toast the beginning of another excellent new year.
We plan to return to Ayacucho on the second of January. How will we do it? Folded onto the Bus Cama, of course. Hey, it will save us almost US$200!