Chariots of Wire

The act of getting stuffed into a cab is in no way a new concept. But when the cab in question is lined with metal fencing and the driver is separated from the passengers by a metal gate and stares at you and your traveling band of merrymakers like psychotically hopping monkeys flinging poo at some zoo, it tends to make you self conscious.

And that was exactly how we all felt as we bounced along in the mobile animal cage that was bringing us back towards Miraflores.

We had decided to splurge on a cheap (meaning free) flight down to Lima, the capital of Peru, for a 3-day vacation crammed into a 12-hour period. The plane lurched off the ground at 4:50 pm and droned along for the next 6 hours, gently banking and pitching around the furious packs of storms that dotted the Atlantic on our route of flight.

With a muffled arrival announcement, gentle thud of tires on pavement and a jolt of locking brakes at the gate, we arrived. We were looking forward to stuffing our faces with all the local delights and wanted to waste no time.

After hustling through check in and violating every principle of the Spanish language with my feverish attempts to find the closest bar, we settled on the hotel lounge, a brightly lit affair vaguely reminiscent of Bill Murray’s “Lost in Translation” bar, complete with a view of the demolished buildings across the street, trendy 70’s leather furniture and a dusty old piano so badly out of tune it made William Hung from “American Idol” sound like Pavarotti.

But no matter. The Pisco Sours, a local drink, made it all go away. Made with pisco, a distilled brandy that jackhammers your sobriety into submission, it is mixed with a frothed egg white, lemon juice, sugar and a hit of bitters for an ever pleasing mind bender of a drink.

A few of those and it was off to bed. We had sleep to catch up on and 12 hours to frantically cover Miraflores the next day.

Our excursion began under soggy skies with a ride out to the Blue Market, a large mall dedicated to putting the crimp on anti piracy efforts. DVD’s, cd’s, electronics. You name, they have it. And damned if they don’t all look like the real thing.

It is only upon closer inspection that you notice the little details that whisper “pirated” in their own subtle way. When was the last time Rolex slapped together a watch that spelled “oyster” as “oister”? Or a Celine Dion cd with its song titles and odd mix of Spanish and phonetically spelled English? Shady little buggers.

It was from the Blue Market that we were treated to the zoo-on-wheels ride. The driver blasted us around the city, wild eyed and intent, jerking the steering wheel back and forth around traffic as if he fancied himself driving the Indy 500. Death was only a stop light away.

Finally, he slowed long enough for us to hastily throw ourselves from his cab and land upright for a snack at a small, smoky skewer restaurant where seasoned beef heart and other odd cuts of meat were rammed onto a skewer and grilled.

They were surprisingly tender, and while I was not able to identify exactly what or they were from, they were indeed tasty. The locals call them anticuchos.

Next on our compressed tour was a ceviche, an intriguing preparation of raw fish and some form of acid, usually lime or lemon juice, that “cooks” the fish. More on ceviche in the next column.

Finally, a hasty stroll over to the cliffs that overlooked the Pacific Ocean and the black sand beaches. In the water, surfers casually paddled around aimlessly. Paragliders dove off the cliffs with wild abandon only to emerge a few seconds later on the top of a wind gust. Lovers, fully clothed, groped like flailing octopi in a small park dedicated to, of all things, lovers.

By then, it was time to head to the airport and call it a day on Lima. The drinks, the food and the people made this zip file of a vacation worth the achy legs and the feeling that a small sandy beach had gathered in your eyes as you flew home at 2 in the morning.

Maybe next time, we can get it all done in 10 hours somewhere else.

–Tim Connors, RED Editorial Staff.