Friday was an important day, since it was my induction day into the VolunTeach Peru programme. Shadia arrived punctually at five minutes before 10am and drove me to pick up the other participants: Amy, Joe, Alicja and Elise.
By the time we’d got through the chaotic traffic across the city and we’d all squeezed into the car to drive to Miraflores (Alicja on Elise’s lap), it was around 11.30. Shadia gave us a short tour of the area, but the other participants and I were mainly interested in getting to know one another and finding out each others’ plans. I had the impression we were going to get on well (despite the fact that Joe was exceptionally posh and had committed the grave error of wearing loafers); unfortunately, Alicja and Elise were leaving for Arequipa and Iquitos the following day, leaving just the three of us.
To get to central Lima, we ordered a taxi and split into two groups, giving Elise and me chance to talk through our travel plans. We’d already been in touch before arriving in Peru and want to organize a trip to Cusco and Machu Picchu together.
From where the taxi dropped us off, we met up with the rest of the group and walked into the centre, passing through the Plaza San Martin, which is named after General Jose de San Martin, who declared Peru’s independence on 28th July 1821. The square was inaugurated in 1921 to honour the first centenary of Peruvian independence. The Republican buildings surrounding the square are in the French style that was popular in Lima during the time of their construction. Like every other city in the world, it seems, it features a large statue of a man on a horse (although this one is considerably more impressive than the one we have in Wolverhampton).
After we’d taken the obligatory photos (camera cords tied around our wrists, as advised), we walked down the main street, which, typically, is called Gran Vía. We were stared at, leered at and called out at throughout the fairly short walk down this busy pedestrian street, standing out instantly as gringos. This is a Latin American term for foreigners, most commonly those from an English-speaking country, and we’re assured it is in no way offensive. Its etymology is unclear; some say it is a reference to griego (Greek), as in “It’s all Greek to me”; others claim it relates the English words ‘green’ and ‘go’. If this is the case, it could either have come from Brazil, referring to the foreigners taking all the green from the Amazon and leaving with the profits, or from Mexico, referring to the US military who invaded and the Mexicans telling them, “Green go home”. Either way, it’s lost its negative connotations over time, apparently, and is now just the general term used to identify us all.
It’s true that we can be spotted a mile off; my skin and hair make me look like I come from a different planet from all the dark-skinned, black-haired Peruvians - so really, the calls of “Hey, baby!” and “Relax, baby!” (in English) shouldn’t have come as too much of a surprise. What I actually find more alarming is the persistent stares wherever you go; it gives you the feeling of being some kind of circus animal.
Apart from the obvious interest we were causing, we also noticed another Peruvian obsession during our short walk to lunch: llamas. They are literally everywhere - model llamas, cuddly llamas, llamas on clothes, llamas on key rings. I had no idea llamas were so important here, but apparently they have been widely used as a meat and pack animal by Andean cultures since pre-Hispanic times.
For lunch, we went to a traditional local restaurant just off the main square, the Plaza Mayor. Just as in Spain, lunch is the main meal of the day here, so we had a typical Menu del día (Meal of the Day). For me, this consisted of a mixed salad with boiled vegetables and lashings of dressing, followed by lightly-breaded fish with rice and more vegetables, and for dessert, a very sweet pancake with an unidentified filling. In the centre of the table were two bowls of fried banana, which, surprisingly, tastes exactly like ordinary crisps. To drink, we had, bizarrely, sweetened camomile tea served in a glass.
After lunch we walked to the Basílica y Convento de San Francisco (Church and Convent of San Francisco), which is one of the most important religious buildings in Lima. It was consecrated in 1673 and completed in 1774 and is typical of the Spanish Baroque style in Colonial America. Unfortunately, it is currently undergoing restoration in some places, but it can still be visited and many parts are in good condition.
Once inside with a tour guide, you can see how huge the church and convent is. A visit to these parts on their own is interesting, with its allegedly world-renowned library of more than 25,000 books, the intricately decorated cupolas and an impressive collection of artwork. However, we were completely unprepared for what followed: a trip to the ancient catacombs beneath the church. It is believed that these contained secret passageways connecting the church to the Cathedral and the Tribunal of the Holy Inquisition. One thing that is certain is the existence of an ossuary holding the bones of some 25,000 bodies, lined up in wooden crates along the narrow hallways and in several large, circular holes where the skulls and bones arranged in circular patterns. The catacombs were first discovered in 1943 and served as a burial-place until 1808, when a city cemetery was opened outside Lima. This was certainly not what I’d signed up for and I have literally never felt so disturbed in my entire life.
Emerging from the catacombs alive, if not entirely well, we took a taxi to the car park where Shadia had left her car - all six of us, piled one on top of each other, in the little taxi. The most amusing part of all was that the taxi driver told Joe off for not having his seatbelt on, as though he considered safety an absolute priority.
Thankfully, when we burst out of the taxi ten minutes later, Shadia had ordered another one and we were to split up again to get to the VolunTeach training. I went with Alicja and Elise and we arrived first. Lucy, who is older than Shadia, who is only 26, is the other main partner of VolunTeach Peru and was already there waiting for us.
A few hours later we all had a much clearer idea about what we would be doing and the best places to go. There were so many amazing places to visit, I was dying to get it all organised, but I have to wait until Monday when I have discussed getting extra leave with my placement school.
The journey back with Shadia, Lucy and Joe was a nightmare, right in the middle of rush hour. We seemed to spend most of our time sitting in endless queues of traffic, or if not, swerving out the way of impatient drivers switching lanes at break-neck speed. We took so long that Pily phoned to find out what on earth had happened to me.
When Shadia dropped me off outside the apartment complex, the guards wouldn’t believe me that I lived there and I had to be escorted right to the apartment, which was slightly embarrassing. When I entered, I found the table already laid and that the family had been waiting for my return to sit down to dinner, despite the fact it was nearly 9pm.
After dinner, I sat down with Omar, who showed me pictures and videos of Machu Picchu and Manu National Park, where you can do tours of the Amazon Rainforest. I was absolutely amazed; it is stunning. I spent the majority of the next morning looking at the wide array of different tours you can do, and am so spoilt for choice I’m more confused than ever. I’ve decided that it’s probably best to wait until I get permission from the school before I go any further.
Pily made yet another impressive lunch that day; homemade cream of vegetable soup and an Andean dish called locro, which is made from a base of cucurbita (a pumpkin-like vegetable cultivated in the Andes and Mesoamerica), with choclo corn, lima beans, potato and queso fresco. That afternoon, Natsumi and I took a microbus to the university, Pontificia Universidad Católica del Perú, which was holding an open day for prospective students. It was quite interesting to hear the talks on the different courses they have on offer, and I even got to do a bit of etching with paints.
In the evening, Omar and Pily took me to a local club with live salsa music. Omar had been planning to take me there since discovering my love for salsa a few days before. In fact, music has been an amazing bonding topic for us, and it all began when I came downstairs excitedly hearing Calle 13, one of my favourite bands, playing. This got us chatting about reggaeton (although the singer of Calle 13 classes his music as urban rather than reggaeton) and later salsa and all kinds of Latin American music, my love for which I owe to my dad, who has brought me up listening to it.
The live band that night was incredible and the dance floor was full of people of all ages, from my age to fifty, who all seemed to know how to dance perfectly. Somehow I didn’t feel uncomfortable being the only gringa in the whole place, as usual, and soon Omar was getting me up to dance; apparently I’m a natural dancer because I feel the rhythm so well. I took some convincing accepting this amazing compliment from a native Peruvian. For the majority of the rest of the night we danced as a three, because Omar and Pily didn’t want to leave me out, no matter how much I said I didn’t mind. They are still being incredibly generous, and insisted on paying my entry ticket and buying me two cocktails (one of which was called Machu Picchu, which seemed apt).
Now we know each other better, we are able to have really interesting conversations - and the great thing is, they seem to genuinely get my jokes. I always consider this a good sign that you’ve reached a decent level in a language, because your sense of humour is one of the most difficult aspects to portray if you’re not speaking your native tongue. So, after many hours of talking and dancing, we left the club at about 3am, another perfect end to another special evening in Lima.
Late this morning I woke up with that ominous and undeniable sick feeling that I seem to keep getting these days. Luckily, it wasn’t as bad as the week before and I was able to get myself back on track with an iron tablet, a glass of water and another hour’s sleep. It’s getting slightly worrying now, as it’s occurring more and more often; I’ve been trying to connect the dots and although it’s not a hangover, and although it doesn’t happen every time I go out, this does seem to be a connecting factor. This is leading me to think that even if I do have anaemia, this is just exacerbating a more serious problem. What if I have some kind of alcohol intolerance? Unthinkable.
Anyway, I managed to recuperate in time for the arrival of Rosi’s mum and little brother and sister - which is a good job because one minute I was calmly putting on my make-up, the next I was being chased around the house by a cuddly minion. Little Alexander seemed to find this game endlessly hilarious, especially when it was his turn to be chased, and I definitely got my exercise for the day. Luckily he eventually got tired out too and tucked us both up in a blanket on the sofa.
That afternoon, all nine of us squeezed into the seven-seater four-by-four to drive to a local Chinese restaurant (with two small toddlers in the mix, chaos ensued). Even the Chinese restaurants here have a unique Peruvian touch, which makes all the dishes twice as interesting. We had to wait to get a table in the huge marble-decorated two-storey restaurant, but it was worth it. Pily and Omar did most of the ordering, which worked out well as they ordered plenty of food for us all to share. To start, we had wantan frito con salsa de tamarindo (wonton pastry with tamarind sauce) followed by sopa de wantan (wonton soup) - both of which I had without the usual chicken. Then, since the others were having a meat-based main course, I had one all to myself: verduras saltadas con yuyo, champiñones y hongos chinos (salted vegetables with Chinese mushrooms) served with white rice.
After lunch, we squeezed back into the car and drove to the centre of Lima, where everyone was keen to tell me about the various buildings and sights. After walking around Plaza Mayor, we went to the Parque de la Muralla (Park of the Wall), on the banks of the River Rimac. As you would expect from the name, the park is home to the remains of the old city walls, which were unearthed accidentally when a developer began excavations there in the 1980s.
The walls were originally constructed between 1684 and 1687 to protect the city from pirates, and according to Pily the bricks are held together with the inside of the eggs of the codorniz (which I’ve since found out is quail. They do seem quite obsessed with this bird here; Natsumi used to have one as a pet, and everywhere you look there are street sellers selling their eggs, which are boiled for you on the spot). Anyway, unfortunately, the walls were torn down during the expansion of the city under the presidency of José Balta in 1872, which is why only the foundations remain. Even so, you can still see a good deal of the original structure and observe how they once tried to add modern bricks to the old stone.
We then said our goodbyes to Rosi’s family, as it was time for them to drive back to their city, an hour away. Then the five of us walked back across the square, which was now beautifully lit up for the evening, to another park called Parque Rimac. This park, like the rest of the city, was bustling with people, so much so that, whilst Omar looked after Nicole, Pily linked arms with Natsumi and me, worried she would lose us. There were street sellers as far as the eye could see, selling all kinds of popular Peruvian snacks.
Apparently, in Colonial times, every street was home to a different kind of street seller, which is why they all have names like Calle de la Pescadería (Fishmongers’ Street), since all the fishmongers would do their business in that one street. Nowadays, vendors of speciality foods spread throughout the length of this park to sell their goods.
There was a typical Peruvian dessert that Omar said I would love and had to try, so he took us all to a little stall making the three similar types - mazamorra morada and two different types of arroz con leche. Mazamorra morada is like a hot, liquid jelly made from Peru’s purple corn, containing fresh and dried fruits. Arroz con leche is Peru’s own version of rice pudding, made from rice, sweetened condensed milk and evaporated milk. There was also a cinnamon-flavoured variety. To help me decide, Omar ordered the three different desserts for himself and his two daughters (since Pily didn’t want anything), and they each fed me a mouthful. In the end he ordered me a mixture, since they were all so good, it was impossible to decide.
When we came to pay, the stall didn’t have any change, so I gave 20 sol (about £5) to make up the difference, which I was more than happy to do, since I haven’t paid for anything yet. Omar said he would pay me back, which I told him was completely unnecessary, and when we were back in the car half-an-hour later, he put the money into my hand, not taking ‘no’ for an answer and saying that I might need it later. I just can’t believe how generous and kind they are; they really are treating me as part of the family. On the way home, Nicole snuggled up to me and rested her head on my shoulder, and fell asleep with my arm around her.
Tomorrow is my first day at school, and I only hope that they will make me feel even half as welcome as my Peruvian family has. I’m really excited to meet all the kids and share my experiences with them, and to start my routine here in Lima.
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