26 Is Practically 40 In Metric Years!

I know what you're all wondering, and the answer is yes, I did visit the erotic ceramics section in the Larco Museum (which has arguably the finest collection of Incan and pre-Incan culture ceramics, textiles, and artifacts). And no, for my money there isn't a finer collection of risque archeological treasures than that at the Larco.

Thursday was my 26th birthday, and I didn't have much planned. I wanted to go to Pueblo Pachacamac (not to be confused with the Pachacamac ruins) to help some other GEA folks from the eco-tourism group with mosaics and paintings in the new park. Though I was too lazy to plan anything besides that, my friends at the Casona made sure I had a good birthday. I made my way downstairs at 8:15 to find Jessica cooking me a birthday omelet, birthday bacon, and birthday toast. This was doubly impressive because she had gone out the night before, and waking up this early would have been quite the challenge. Besides preparing my birthday breakfast, she, Bruno, Kike, and Juan had baked birthday cookies in the shapes of the letters of my name the previous night. So I had an excellent breakfast and dessert of A, N, R, and E. I shared D and W because I am very generous (read: because they were slightly burnt, the oven here is extremely fickle in its temperatures). After that surprising, and certainly undeserved, start to the day I met up with Diego and we grabbed a taxi to take us down to Pueblo Pachacamac. It's very close to the ruins, though the Pueblo is known more for its proximity to "Las Lomas." I can't figure out exactly what that means, but based on my keen observations I think they are foothills which turn green during the winter because of the coastal fog layer. They are steep, harsh, and very striking, and the area is a popular destination for local tourists. Set against this daunting natural backdrop is Pueblo Pachacamac, a very poor village which seems to subsist mostly on cow/chicken/goat husbandry because they certainly aren't growing anything out here in the desert. There are lots of dogs too, and I have a sneaking suspicion these dogs might be messing around within the family because they all look very similar. I've got no proof of course, but every now and then I ran across a dog that seemed to be a bit slow on the uptake. But as they say, if the crotch smells good...(sorry, family blog!).

Diego and I joined several other GEA employees (and some of their friends as well) working with some folks from the community. The project in Pachacamac has two primary objectives: build a park with mosaics that reflect the culture (and can be viewed from the foothills) and paint the houses with brighter colors and thematically-appropriate artwork. The first half of the day Diego and I worked on the mosaic in the park, and here is a picture of our progress:

The morning was spent breaking and cementing tiles, and after breaking for lunch we worked on painting an abandoned house which had a massive mural for a mayoral candidate painted on it's side. I say "abandoned," but the truth is that a large family of pigeons has taken residence inside the dwelling. I hope they like cyclists, because that's what they got painted on their wall facing the street.

Diego and I returned to Barranco around 6, and soon after the usual Casona gang had a pizza dinner in the bar. While we were cleaning up, Jessica and Juan came out with a chocolate cake (decorated with my favorite Peruvian sandwich cookie, FRAC. That name never fails to stir my appetite, almost as much as Kraps soda crackers.) covered in "Feliz Cumpleaños" candles. And accompanying my chocolate cake was a very accurate llama stuffed animal Jessica got in Cusco. I'm pretty certain his llama fur is actually made from rabbit, but I'll forgive that because he has aticulatable knees (and the kung-fu grip!) and the trademark llama steely gaze. With his penetrating stares and stoic nature I named him Virgil Cole after Viggo Mortenson's hired lawman character in "Appaloosa." It was a pretty obvious choice, but then again I just like the name Virgil. It was a great birthday, and while I would have liked to spend it with all you back home (speaking a language other than French or Spanish with a French accent), this was a close second.

Because I have a five day weekend for the Peruvian independence day I decided to hit some of the museums and cultural sites in Lima. And boy did that hurt my hand! The best, by far, has been the Larco Museum. It is housed within an 18th century mansion and contains the finest collection of Incan and pre-Incan ceramics, textiles, and metallurgical objects. And erotic ceramics of course. The main exhibit has sections devoted to each of the pre-Incan cultures and their crafts. It's worth noting that while the Incans are generally regarded as the most famous cultural group of Peru (largely thanks to Macchu Picchu), they only dominated Peruvican culture for a brief period before Spanish conquest. Not to rag on the Incans, but they get most of the credit for all the hard work of the Moche, Cusco, Nazca, Lima, etc. peoples. It's as if Tony shows up late to the potluck, but he brought a really terrific tiramisu. Suddenly, all the guests forget about Rick's tasty fruit salad, Veronica's 9 spice fried chicken (secret family recipe), and Pauline's Tuna a la King when they see that showstopper tiramisu. And of course that's all anyone can talk about for years to come. Next time I'm just not going to invite Tony. Oh right, the museum. I was absolutely amazed by the detail, complexity, and delicacy the ancient Peruvians were able to achieve in their ceramics, some up to 4000 years old. While the textiles and metalworks were impressive, the ceramics are really the star of the show. And once you leave the exhibit you can tour the "storeroom." This is simply a series of rooms, lined with shelves behind glass, housing the additional 10,000 ceramic pieces that don't have a spot in the permanent exhibition. They are categorized for your viewing pleasure too. So you can browse through the owl section, then view the vampire demon specimens, and finish strong with the anthropomorphic feline-serpent-eagle themed objects. Really, something for everyone. After you see the permanent exhibition and the vast storeroom, you can peruse the "adult section." I think children are allowed, and judging from the extensive details many of the ceramics use to depict various sexual acts I am sure they'd get a kick out of out this exhibit. And the Peruvians don't stop with human-human activities; you'll find human-frog, human-jaguar, human-demon, feline-eagle, human-skeleton, skeleton-hamburger, and so forth. All joking aside, the Larco Museum has a world-class collection of Peruvian antiquities, and it's an important testimony to the extremely extensive and independently developed culture in this part of the world. What's that, Sally? Oh you think ceramics can't be cool? Well try this on for size:

Yeah, that's right. It's the decapitation some unlucky (or lucky, depending on your views of transcendence achieved through human sacrifice) dude. And the ceremony is being conducted by an anthropomorphic fish priest. And it's also a pot. Now try and tell me, with a straight face, that ceramics aren't cool.

I also visited the Peruvian museum of anthropology and archeology, but because there was a lot of overlap in the type of artifacts I am not going to talk about that. Well, I will say I saw two bonafide shrunken heads. Gross. Next entry I'll talk about some of the other museums I visited (or maybe I won't. Sometimes museums themselves can get a little dry, so I can only imagine what it's like to read someone else's account of a museum visit. We'll play it by hear.

Life lesson learned in the discotech: Turbopotamus, contrary to popular belief, is not a fleet-of-foot African mammal. Turns out that it's the name of a moderately popular Liman band which likes to ply their trade at Help.

Reader Mail - Round Two

For those who need to brush up on their Peruvian history, today is the national independence day (from Spain. After Spain won the World Cup a number of Spanish folks living in Lima paraded around the city honking horns, waving flags, and celebrating their country's victory. I am no Peruvian, but to me that seems a bit culturally insensitive. I mean, the conquistadors dropped by and threw a wrench in the whole Peruvian operation. Granted, this was approximately 500 years ago, but if I were Peruvian I'd be turbo-pissed to see all these gloating Spaniards overrunning my city. I think the Peruvians are much more tolerant and forward-looking than me, because I would definitely roundhouse kick one of those smug Spaniards back to 1533. Seriously though, all the Spaniards I have met here have been really nice and not deserving of roundhouse kicks.), and I will be celebrating by:

a. Waking up, eating breakfast, and singing the "Star Spangled Banner" (I am not familiar with the Peruvian national anthem, but I hear they're more or less the same)
b. Writing a blog entry about how I am celebrating the 28th of July
c. Going to the gym to exercise very patriotically
d. Checking out a parade (sometimes in Lima I notice that being a foreigner means I am less informed about current events. This could be because my Spanish is not up to muster [I almost said "mustard," how ridiculous would that have been??], I don't have as strong of a network of friends as in the US, or because I am an ignorant, close-minded American who has failed to embrace local mores. Too strong? Well either way, I know there are many parades being held today, yet I couldn't tell you the route of a single one. I think I'll probably just head to the center of Lima and try my luck. Let's hope, for their sake, that I don't encounter any satisfied Spaniards because today is karate day at the gym.)

I guess that is all I have planned. It doesn't sound like much, but when I think about my celebration protocol for the 4th of July it's just as simple. Anyways, on with the mail!
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Dear Andreux(sic),

What's the deal all that fog down there? I mean, seriously?

Bruce
Lubbock, TX


Bruce,

Excellent question, and I'm glad someone finally touched on this topic. Lima has lots of fog. I thought San Francisco was a foggy town, but Lima takes the fog-quotient to a new level. During the winter every day begins foggy, and 3% of the days there will eventually be a partial break in the fog and some sun will shine through. The rest of the days it's fog all the time. I like fog and find it a nostalgic reminder of my youth growing up near San Francisco, but I have noticed that many of the tourists are disappointed with the weather. Sometimes I get tempted to remind them that "it's the middle of winter here, and there is no snow, freezing temperatures, or flying reindeer attacks, are you really in a position to complain?," but I hold my tongue and enjoy the climate on my own. My only gripe about the climate is the humidity. Just as Lima has lots of fog, it also has lots of humidity. I have experienced oppressive summer humidity, but winter humidity is a different animal and irritating in a much more subtle fashion. You don't go outside and immediately start sweating or feel drained of all energy. Rather, winter humidity makes it really easy to get a cold and prevents those clothes you have hang drying from truly drying in anything short of 4 days. Summer humidity takes the blunt, "whoopee cushion" approach whereas winter humidity takes the more insidious, "leave a fake rubber snake in your clothes hamper to be discovered the next time you do laundry" approach. Different techniques, equally unpleasant/embarrassing.
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Andrew,

So I have to ask, is Lima really as hockey crazy as everyone tells me? I was always hesitant to visit because of the prevalent anti-Canadian sentiment there, but this hockey offseason is making me crave a vacation to a location that is both exotic and hockey-friendly. I think Lima might be just the ticket, but I wanted to get your thoughts first.

Cheryl
Thunder Bay, Ontario


Cheryl,

You are right on the money about Peruvians and their hockey! Lima was literally on pins and needles waiting for Ilya Kovalchuk to sign, and I can't walk into a bar/restaurant/wig shop without overhearing someone mentioning head shots, collective bargaining agreement, Gary Bettman, Winter Classic, or "the Lightning actually have a pretty solid team this year. Talk about a first line!" I am also happy to tell you that Peru has largely ironed out the lingering issues with Canada, and Canucks are welcomed here with open arms. Of course, you don't want to be seen sporting the maple leaf at 11pm in Callao, but it's not like I need to tell you that. Lima would be a great spot, but as I tell a lot of people you need to give it more than two days. Lima is very nuanced and complex, and appreciating the city is not as easy as seeing the main square and hitting a few historical sites. It is probably a better place for a resident than a tourist because getting to know and enjoy the place takes time. I am very happy with my decision to come here, though. If you happen to be in the area, let me know and we can talk shop about the Kings signing Ponikarovsky.
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Yo Andrew,

How about those Peruvian babes?! Am I right?!

Robert
Stockton, CA


Robert,

Totally. You are right. But contrary to what everyone keeps telling me, I will not be coming with a Peruvian wife. I appreciate all the encouragement (seriously, the encouragement has got to stop, people. I'm here to work, eat, find a nice hairpiece, reflect on my life, and eat American household pets. Matrimony is not included in those goals.), but I will definitely be coming home without a missus. Doesn't mean I can't come back without a llama, though!
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Great questions this week, folks. Keep them coming! I hope everyone has a relaxing and patriotic "Fiestas Patrias." And if you're Spanish, you best watch out. Just kidding, I like Spanish people. Also, there are new photos in the Flickr account.

Field Trip: Casa Blanca and Pachacamac

When I say "Field Trip," I don't mean a personal excursion. I'm talking about school buses, teacher supervision, Kudos bars, and the San Francisco Exploratorium. Well, that's only partially true, but for all practically purposes I went on a typical school field trip with the kids from the Villa Maria del Triunfo and Lurin schools. Before we hear the exciting account of Field Trip Saturday I want to share one more surprising thing I saw during the last week. Let me set the scene for you. It's about 7:15pm (metric time, but the time is immaterial for this story so just bear with me on this one), and I'm roughly halfway through my workout at the Master Gym. I've mentioned the Master Gym before, but to jog your memory it's a tiny weight room one block from the Casona. They have several signs boasting "spinning," but I'm not sure that two bikes really qualifies the gym to advertise spinning. Most of the metal objects have a light rust coasting, many weight plates are mismatched, some machines probably haven't been inspected ever, and the floor is covered with a patchwork of carpet, foam mats, and linoleum swatches. It's rustic (pun alert!) but sufficient for my needs. I was initially irritated that the Zumba classes were only offered at 6am and 4pm, but for 14 bucks a month that's getting a little bit greedy. Anyhow, I'm pumping some serious iron to Chris de Burgh's "Lady in Red," and I start to smell something burning. Normally I wouldn't think too much of a bit of smoke but I'm in a gym where I would hope people aren't smoking and working out. I glance around to see if I can find the offender, and sure enough there is a source of smoke within the gym. Is there an electrical fire? Is someone burning a confidential document? Did Oscar light up while doing the bench press? No, one of the employees is circulating amongst the fitness enthusiasts with a stick of incense to counter any unpleasant smells. Once he has made his rounds he leaves the lit incense stick on an stand to finish burning and really perfume the room. I'm open to different ways of doing things, but incense in a gym? That's a real roof dog situation if you ask me, but I'll roll with the punches. I finished up my workout and headed back to the Casona with my body tired and my chi and meridian flows well balanced.

Today was an eventful Saturday. Melissa and I left Barranco about 7:45am to head down south for a field trip with the five schools to the south of Lima. The purpose of this outing was twofold: to help the students develop a stronger identification with their community by showing them some interesting local sights and to give kids from all five schools a chance to interact with their peers from other schools. We arrived at the Juan Valer school, distributed the Buena Voz backpacks and t-shirts, and then joined one of the two buses of kids (85 total) to head out to the countryside. Our destination was the Casa Blanca (White House, too bad there aren't any interns!), a sustainable/organic farm and guinea pig ranch. Our second stop was Pachacamac, the sprawling desert site of an ancient religious sanctuary, but we'll get to that later.

Casa Blanca was started by Mr. Ulysses and his wife about thirty years ago as a natural and completely self-sufficient farm. No offense to the Pachacamac ruins, but they can't hold a candle to the wondrous world of Mr. Ulysses. If you need to take a bathroom break, now is a good time, because you're going to want to enjoy all the Casa Blanca surprises uninterrupted. Here we go. Mr. Ulysses is a sprightly, passionate Peruvian scientist/farmer. While the students are settling down for a quick introduction from him, he starts to chat with me and I get a little bit of his background. Turns out this guy has a PhD from Cornell in a branch of environmental sciences. Five minutes after he relates that to me I hear him extolling the virtues of "caca de guy" (loosely translated as "guinea pig doodoo") to the students. As you hear me say again and again, Peru is full of surprises. So on this farm he has a completely contained life cycle. He grows a variety of crops (yucca, corn, strawberries, raspberries, cherries, bananas, plantains, potatoes, sweet potatoes, lucuma [an exotic fruit], chilimoya [another exotic fruit], and some other things I can't remember.) for both human and cuy consumption. He feeds the cuyes some of the plants, and they do three things in return: poo, pop out 5-7 babies up to four times a year, and make the most adorable squeaking noises. Here are a couple pictures of the cuyes in their pens. First some precious baby cuyes followed by a bulbous pregnant cuy.


Mr. Ulysses uses their manure to create two products he applies to his crops and sells to other farmers. One is basic compost and the other is a nutrient-rich liquid he calls "Caca Cola" because of it's resemblance to the popular cola. Let's hope it tastes just as good!!! Instead of nitrogen fertilizers and genetically modified plants, Mr. Ulysses keeps it all natural with cuy compost and fertilizer and heirloom plant varieties. In appreciation of the cuyes' hard work, he sells them for S./ 20 a pop and/or eats them for dinner. Sorry fellas, no cedar shavings and exercise wheels for you!

He has a highly developed compost process which is definitely worth delving into a little bit deeper. That doesn't sound quite right. Whatever, we'll push on! So every few weeks the cuy pens are cleaned out and the manure is piled in alternating layers with dead organic materials from the crops. Mr. Ulysses describes these both accurately and deliciously as "crap sandwiches" (loose translation, my agro-vocabulary needs some work). These piles of manure and dead plants attract aerobic bacteria (everybody jazzercize!) which break down the material while generating a lot of heat (up to 70 degrees Celsius). Once the piles have decomposed sufficiently, they are dumped into a manmade "stomach." This biodigestor (his words not mine) is a large underground tank with four holes. The first hole is for dumping in water and the partially decomposed compost. The middle hole is for siphoning off the combustible gas that the anaerobic bacteria (there is no oxygen in the tank) generate. The third hold is for removing the yummy caca cola in equal proportion to which the water is added. The last hole, which is on the side of the underground tank, is for extracting the fully prepared compost after the entire three month process. Cuy crap, dead plant material, and water go in; compost, liquid fertilizer, and natural gas come out. No waste, very cool.

You might be wondering what happens with that natural gas created by the anaerobic bacteria. This is where things get really interesting and a little bit out there. A PVC pipe emerges from the middle hole in the biodigestor, proceeds through a slightly wider PVC pipe filled with metal scraps from a machine shop (I was told that this removes the undesirable odor and all impurities from the natural gas without the use of a traditional filter), and heads over to the gas room. The pipe enters the gas room through a hole in the wall and then splits into a number of smaller rubber tubes which are fitted with small metal valves. These valves dispense the purified and ready-to-use gas into...what else...various sizes of tire tubes. Mr. Ulysses stores his natural gas (which he uses to cook, heat his house, and power gas lanterns for light) in a collection of car, truck, and tractor tire tubes. I mean, I'm sure he has a lot of experience in this self-sustaining farm technique and knows what works and what doesn't, but it's still really fascinating to see a room full of inflated tire tubes which are the main source of energy for his house. It's also really fascinating (well, nerve wracking) to see him attach a tire to a gas stove and light 'er up. In a room full of gas tires. Safety first!

All his crops are irrigated, but he uses gravity and thoughtfully designed canals to avoid the use of water pumps. Furthermore, all his water is sourced from underground aquifers on his property. In addition to the cuyes, compost, and caca cola, he sells some of the crops that he and his family don't eat. More exciting, he sells three flavors of ice cream (lucuma [tastes sort of like honey], chilimoya [it's purple, that's all I know], and guanabaya [no idea]). I indulged and had a lucuma ice cream with my homegirl Dana.

She is the niece of my coworker Victor and definitely a cool cat. For the record, she ate the lucuma ice cream, a chocolate ice cream bar at the ruins, and promised to down a third ice cream once she got home. She's nothing if not ambitious. So I thought that this farm was really awesome. It's totally sustainable, self-contained, delicious, and full of adorable guinea pigs. Plus, the very vivacious Mr. Ulysses is 79 years young! Unbelievable! Must be attributable to the curative properties of caca cola and guinea pig gas-tronomy (pun alert!).

We left the Casa Blanca behind and headed out to the Pachacamac ruins. Pachacamac is the name of the creator of the world. Obviously. He makes earthquakes when he gets upset and has two faces for seeing both the past and the future. People would visit this site to make sacrifices, ask for advice (based on Pachacamac's ability to see the future), and pay tribute to one heck of a god. Unfortunately, Francisco Pizarro dropped by in 1533 and made a mess of everything. Only in the late 1800's and early 1900's was the site rediscovered and excavated. The excavation continues today and most of the ruins remain buried in sand and dust. The site holds ruins of various religious sanctuaries from four pre-Andean societies, most recently the Incas. The site is surrounded by a desert so the pictures really aren't that interesting, just a lot of beige on beige. However, the largest ruin, a temple dedicated to the Inca sun god, overlooks the ocean and has great views of the coast and two nearby islands. But rather than show you the ruins, sand, or islands, I would like to present the ugliest dog I have ever seen.

Yes, he has a mohawk. I immediately pointed out this creation to Melissa who informed me that he is a Peruvian Hairless Dog (as if I needed to be told), one of the noblest dogs in the land. According to the Wikipedia entry: "The Peruvian Hairless Dog is a breed of dog with its origins in Peruvian pre-Inca cultures. It is one of several breeds of hairless dog. It is not to be confused with the Xoloitzcuintli." It's a good thing I didn't mix him up with a Xoloitzcuintli. That would have been very embarassing. I touched his skin, and it felt pretty much like what you would expect. After exploring the ruins, taking a tour, learning about pre-Andean comings and goings, and oggling gross dogs, we all went back to Juan Valer and had some lunch (carapulcra, sorta like Peruvian chili). It was definitely the best field trip I've been on in a long time, despite the Peruvian Hairless Dog's attempts to ruin my day.

Ça Va? Ça Va. Voila! La Conversation dans le Parc.

First off, I want to thank everyone for the very kind words about the blog. I hope to keep you all entertained and informed (in that order), and it feels great knowing when I'm hitting the right notes. Keep the feedback, musings, character attacks, strongly worded emails, haikus, etc. coming.

Despite living in an arguably South American country I seem to be surrounded by all things French. Kike and Juan are French. Most of their friends are French. The large Belgian contingent all speak French. The bread they serve in the morning is called "Pan Frances," loosely translated as "French Pan." There is a French flag on the Casona. Many restaurants in the area serve French fries. I might be mistaken, but I am fairly confident that the roof dog responds to commands exclusively in French and barks at me in French. I'm pretty sure I hear "ça va?" each time I walk by, but who can be sure with dogs these days? As I mentioned previously, this city never ceases to surprise me. Therefore, I would like to dedicate another post to more of the unexpected aspects of Lima I've encountered:

There are tons of bakeries here. When I say bakery, I mean any place that sells bread (typically along with other basic food items), and these little shops seem to appear once or twice every block. I have no idea how the city supports so many bakeries nor how one determines the bakery with the best products (typically, one would taste the bread baked by a bakery to see how good it is. However, there are so many bakeries here that it would take forever to find one's favorite. I see approximately 12 bakeries on my 17 minute walk to work, and that is not including the bicycles that have been outfitted with a large plexiglass case for mobile bread sales. And I'm not even in the pan district! [pan is bread, and there actually is no pan district that I know of. Sorry for exercising a little literary license]). Now, the quantity of these bakeries is surprising on its own, but so are the bread product lines at these places. Typically, you will see Pan Frances, Ciabatta, Pancito, Pan, Baguette, and maybe Baguettino if you're lucky. I have no clue why there are so many foreign breads. I also have no clue what constitutes plain old Pan or wily Pancito. I will say that most of the bakeries make solid, if not outstanding bread, and there is amazing consistency from one bakery to the next. Maybe Limans don't need to pick a favorite bakery at all because they all have mastered the art of French and Italian bread.

There is a strange older gentleman who stands about 20 feet south of the GEA office for large portions of the day. He always faces the street at a 45 degree angle pointing to the north and has a perpetually blank look on his face. I always figured that he was someone's relative and they just stuck him out on the sidewalk while they went about their day. I know it's bad to say, but it seemed like he was "out of sight, out of mind" for his family. Well today, Susana and I came back from a nifty lunch at another Gaston Acurio outpost, the casual sandwich place "Hermanos Pasquale." I had the Tanquecito which is a bed of tacu tacu (rice and beans mixture) topped with lomo saltado (beed stir fry) and a fried egg (chicken egg which has been quickly sauteed) with friend plantain (fried banana-like item, but starchier) and French fries (not sure, I don't speak French) on the side. Round it all out with five dipping sauces (Huancaina, Ocupa, Crema de Rocoto, Anticuchero, and another that slips my mind) and we had a great lunch. Nifty, even. Anyhow, while she is beginning to parallel park her car, the older fellow springs into action and gives extremely precise instructions on when she should turn her wheels, the angle of entry, etc. And darn it if that guy isn't a great parallel parker. I still don't know for sure why he is out there, but maybe he's some sort of angel sent by the gods of parking. Or maybe he's just happy to help. Either way, I now give him a subtle head nod when I see him. I would tip my hat, but I don't wear a hat.

I have heard "Who Let the Dogs Out," the Baha Men's Y2K smash hit, twice now. Given the frequency with which I've heard other songs popular ten years ago, I'm not sure whether to feel happy it has been been played so rarely, or outraged that it has been played at all. But as they say "a doggy is nuttin' if he don' have a bone." Can't argue with that really.

July 28 marks Peru's independence from Spain, and throughout the month there are a number of small celebrations before the big day. I know that in many European countries the workers are paid for thirteen months of work. Therefore, one month of the year they get a double paycheck. What?! That's outta sight! Well you're right, if you said that, but it's even better in Peru. In the month of July the workers here receive TRIPLE their normal paycheck. Watch out ladies, Andrew is going to be feeling spendy come payday. What's that you say? No paycheck?? Well beans, so much for that grizzly bear underwear I had my eye on.

Though some say "I rule the midnight air," I'm not really cut out for partying in Lima on a consistent basis. To illustrate, about a week ago my coworker Melissa was holding a fundraiser party for the art festival she's planning. This party took place on Saturday night, and I had already gone out to bars on both Thursday and Friday. I knew her party started at 10pm. I was tired from the two previous nights so I decided just to show up for an hour and then take it easy the rest of the night. Knowing that parties here begin on the fashionably late side of late, I showed up at the venue at 10:30. No one was there and the doors were closed. So I ring the doorbell several times, but no one responds. At this point I am cold and tired and don't feel like waiting around for the party. When I talk to Melissa at work on Monday, she told me I was a little early. Apparently, the party didn't underway until midnight. Two hours later than the time I was told. Wow, Mr. Uptight over here certainly feels foolish. Better go adjust my suspenders and check to make sure my goldfish bowl is properly chlorinated.

In conclusion, here are pictures of the roof dog, Pierre.

"Freedom's Just Another Work For Nothing Left to Lose"

I think it's quite normal to find yourself in a routine, and it's not really a problem until you notice that you are stuck in that routine. Today, I woke up to the realization that I would not be able to eat lunch at one of the usual haunts. I needed to shake things up a bit. Don't get me wrong, I love eating at the lady's house and picking out chicken liver (which I seem to get in greater quantities when I explicitly ask for "no chicken liver, please") or eating across the street where they make a great hot sauce. Furthermore, $2 lunches are easy on the pocketbook when you fit into the $0-0 income bracket. I just felt that today was a good time to branch out and explore the Lima culinary scene. There is a specialty here called "causa," and it is just a base of pureed potatoes with some sort of filling and topping. A typical causa might be mashed yellow potatoes stuffed with a mix of shrimp and avocado and topped with some sort of sauce. Since the guidelines for cause are so loose, the potential combinations are extensive. In that vein, I wanted to try Mi Causa, a restaurant in Miraflores that boasts over 40 different varieties of the dish. I've had causa before at other restaurants, but Tuesday really felt like the day to go to the potato puree master. And I know it doesn't sound that special (I felt the same way), but Peruvian potatoes wield some kind of magic that makes this dish very satisfying.
After a 8 soles cab ride from the GEA office, I arrive at Mi Causa in Miraflores. There are two problems I notice upon stepping out of the cab: Mi Causa is closed for renovations, and that bull mastiff on the corner of the street does not seem to be neutered. My first reaction is pure panic. What the Ulysses am I going to do for lunch? And that virile dog? Fortunately, a solution to one of the problems presents itself to me on the opposite corner of the street. No, it wasn't an animal doctor, it was La Mar. La Mar is the upscale cevicheria that the Buena Voz team visited when Jim (the British donor) came to visit the organization. It has a great, open air atmosphere and top-notch seafood. I was hesitant to eat there at first because it is on the pricier side, but I threw caution to the wind and headed inside for some fish, Gaston Acurio style. I probably should have had someone to share with (I was the only person in the place by myself. This doesn't bother me in terms of challenging social norms. Rather, I prefer eating with someone else so that I can try his/her dish and experience the variety of the restaurant. The only solution I saw was to order for two people and just eat it all. So that's what I did), but I was not going to let my lack of a +1 deter me. I confidently strode inside, flashed the hostess the international "I'm dining alone" sign, and sat down to my table. They started my off with the La Mar version of chips and salsa. Instead of chips and salsa, you receive fried plantain, sweet potato, and potato chips and a trio of three sauces which I am at a total loss to explain. They are tasty and are reddish, beige, and sorta orange. Can't you just taste it? Also, as is protocol at cevicherias, they give you a small basket of dried corn kernels which are then fried. They are an addictive little snack and a great textural contrast when added to ceviche. Here is a diagram to illustrate my starter items:

I ordered the classic ceviche and a causa with olives, octopus, shrimp, and avocado. I like to try the classic ceviche so I have a solid reference point for the seafood restaurants in Lima. This ceviche was easily one of the best. The fish was so fresh that the flesh had a beautiful translucency to it. The balance between the sweetness of the fish and sweet potato, acidity of the lime, and piquancy of the red onions was excellent here:

I know I sound like some pretentious food person, but when eat a dish that is so simple and reliant on just a few quality ingredients, you really appreciate the importance of balancing the different flavors. A little heat from some red pepper perfectly rounded out the dish. The causa came on the form of five spheres of yellow potato puree. Inside each one was a few pieces of avocado, and they were topped of with some diced octopus and shrimp in an olive sauce. On the sides were avocado and something yellow sauces, but I think the picture would probably do a better job conveying it all:

I definitely ordered too much, but the freedom of doing whatever I want in some crazy foreign country felt too good to worry about overeating. I finished all of the ceviche, all but 1/2 of one potato sphere, and most of the chips and corn kernels. I mentioned that this place was pricey. Well, it's relatively pricey. All that food and a bottle of water with gas cost me $28 with tip. For the quality of the seafood, the polished service, and mellow atmosphere it would cost a lot more in the states. I really enjoyed this lunch. At the end I just spread my arms and looked up to the sky and celebrated being alive and free. Wait, did I actually do that or am I remembering Andy escaping in "The Shawshank Redemption."

Yeah, I guess I was just remembering the movie.

Either way, it was real tasty lunch, and it motivated me to write about it the second I got back to the office. I hope everyone had a scrumptious lunch today!

You Down With VMT? Yeah You Know Me!

Youth coordinators don't sleep in when they have a workshop on Saturday, so hell if I'm going to be caught snoozing on the job. Perhaps I should explain. On this past Saturday the Buena Voz program held the first of three youth coordinator workshops. Each of the eight schools in Buena Voz has a general coordinator to oversee everything, several teachers (from the respective school) to lead students through the lesson plans, and 4-6 youth coordinators (also from the respective school) who are graduates of Buena Voz and act as teaching assistants. Since they are in the same age group, the first timers can easily relate to them and hopefully become more excited about and invested in the program. Melissa, Wendy (a former Grupo GEA employee who is trained in leading leadership/teamwork building workshops), and I (sorry to interrupt myself but this 35 year-old Australian dude is whistling and singing along to "Sweet Child of Mine" and is absolutely MURDERING it. OK song's over. I'm back on the level.) all pile in Melissa's car around 2pm to drop by the Juan Valer school in Villa Maria del Triunfo. It's about a 30 minute drive and the Spanish between the two ladies is flying faster than a Micro Machines commercial, so I decide to take a quick catnap. Once we arrive, I establish myself as the dominant male with the two school guard dogs. Seriously, there are two guard dogs that live at the school and seem to bark at everything (including children, inanimate objects, and bad jokes). Having affirmed their loyalty and subservience, the dogs go on their way and us three head up to the school library. This library was strikingly different from the school libraries to which I am accustomed. It was just a large classroom with three rows of tables and chairs running the length of the room. No books to be seen. In the corner there was a door leading to a small room (roughly the size of 1/3 of a portable classroom) containing some books, a television, a computer, and lots of dust. It was a reminder that despite the enthusiasm of teachers and students, these are schools which are seriously deprived of teaching resources. Anyhow, we cleared the tables out of the way to make an open area in the middle for the group of 12 youth coordinators (not all schools were attending this particular workshop). Wendy started things off strong by having one coordinator give his name. The next coordinator in the circle would have to say her name, then the original guy's name. The third person would have to name the original two, and so forth until everyone has given their names. Let's take a guess about where Andrew is sitting. For all of you who postulated "at the end of the circle," excellent work. Mind you, these are Spanish names and much harder for me to remember than Mark or Judith. Now, let's take a guess as to who was the only participant to ace the name game. For all of you who hypothesized "Celeste," you are painfully incorrect. I rocked this game (despite my disadvantageous circle position), and to make sure the coordinators appreciated my efforts I did a celebratory five-minute rendition of "The Hustle." Truly face melting. After that we participated in a number of activities designed to affirm their self-esteem, ferret out opportunities for self-improvement, and discuss what makes a strong youth (now he is whistling the saxophone solo in "I'm Never Gonna Dance Again." Shoot me please.) coordinator. My favorite activity was designing a personal shield with my abilities, areas to improve, personal slogan, and logo. My abilities were: I like to write, I am good with computers (false), and I am an upbeat person. My areas to improve were: Spanish, organization, and figuring out what the hell I want to do with my life. Personal slogan was: you can change the world with laughter. And lighting. And my logo was a threatening cloud with a lighting bolt. Cut me some slack, Jack, my Spanish and drawing abilities are mediocre at best. I was very impressed by the optimism, ambition, and sophistication of these kids (they were all about 15 years of age). Despite very (and I mean very) adverse environmental and social pressures, they manage to be an extremely bright and enthusiastic group of normal high school students. I sincerely hope that they are able to attain whatever dreams they create for themselves, and hopefully Buena Voz will be an empowering tool in this regard. This was probably the first moment where I really felt that Buena Voz was making an impact, and I was definitely glad I tagged along and participated.

After finishing up the workshop the three of us headed back to Barranco (where I live, and halfway between where Wendy and Melissa live). Before breaking for the night we stopped in at the "Juanito" bar. This is an institution in Lima I'm told. It's been around for over 70 years and has been run by the same family the whole time. Writers, artists, and various luminaries have all passed time here over beer, wine, and the famous country ham sandwiches. The atmosphere is really cool. You enter through narrow double doors and are greeted by a bar running down the right side and some tables on the left. There are white cabinets with glass windows affording views of many, many bottles of alcohol, and these bottles are stocked all the way up to the high ceilings. It's really hard to capture the feeling of the place so I will just give you a picture.

We had a few drinks and sandwiches, although Wendy opted for the "patita" or pig's foot. The server was nice enough to inform her that it was the right one. Nothing like this Liman hospitality, I tell ya. Anyhow, after passing an hour at Juanito's we headed back to our respective abodes. I don't think I contributed a whole lot to the workshop today, but it was really motivating to see the program in action and meet some of the students who make it successful. I've learned that I will basically be in charge of Buena Voz in August because Melissa is on vacation for one month, and while that is incredibly scary and potentially disastrous, I feel much more motivated to make sure everything runs smoothly. I might even try to look for some ways to improve the administrative end of things. Look at me being ambitious and empowered! Those activities DID work! And now I get to continue my night with the Aussie signing along to "I Will Survive." Sigh.

Also, there are more photos in the Flickr account. Enjoy!

"Life in the Fast Lane Is Just How It Seems, Hard and It's Heavy, It's Dirty and Mean"

Though many of you can probably piece together a typical Andrew day in Lima, I thought it might be interesting to chronicle one in detail. This way, you too can live the Peruvian dream! Or is it a nightmare? Stay tuned...

7:30 - Similar to my routine in the States I wake up, brush my teeth, wash my face, and send my brinchera on her way. Just kidding!!! I usually brush my teeth only once a day. Just kidding again, I'm a bi-daily brusher but not a brinchera enthusiast.

7:42 - I walk into the kitchen and assemble my breakfast. The Casona serves a breakfast of fresh-baked rolls, jam, butter, milk, coffee, and tea, and I usually like to have an apple and a cheese sandwich (using said roll). I assemble my meal, brew a fresh cup of instant coffee, and settle in for a leisurely breakfast. I bring my fantasy novel (yes, yes, I know. I'm 25 years old and reading fantasy novels. But I think "Wheel of Time" truly deserves an exception from the typical stigmas around fantasy literature. Think "Lord of the Rings," only about 14 times as long.) though usually Juan or Kike comes by to chat until I have to leave for work. We have some good-natured male bonding (Juan: So Andrew, what did YOU do last night [with a wink and a suggestive gesture]. Andrew: Well, I did a whole lot [with a reply wink and further suggestive gestures]. Juan: What was her name?? [with a big grin and a fist pump]. Andrew: Her name was...wait...what are you talking about? I just watched "The Ex" and ate two liters of D'anafria chocolate ice cream.) and then I depart for my walk to the GEA office.

8:42 - I hear a dog barking at me, so I look around for the offending canine. I don't see him until I look up and realize this dog is guarding a three story house. From the roof. After seeing him on several subsequent days I realized he's not stuck up there, he just likes roofs. And roofs (pun alert!).

8:52 - 20m past the GEA is a small store run by a woman and her mother. They sell basic food items, some fruits and veggies, cookies, soap, etc., and I like to purchase my 2.5l bottle of sparkling water from them. It's pretty much a standing order so I only have to walk in and tap my nose twice. They know the score. S./ 2 later I'm hydration-ready for the work day. By the way, isn't the currency symbol for Nuevos Soles interesting? Definitely not what I expected.

10:03 - Karina, a coworker on the Ecoescuela program, spies my jumbo bottle of water and, duly impressed, asks me how much water I put away every day. I tell her that I try to drink 4l (for reference, she says she barely drinks 1l, and that includes juice, tea, soda, etc. She must feel incredibly dessicated! I don't think Peru encourages good hydration practices, though. For instance, on the bottles of Inca Kola there is a small graphic with an interesting fact about the product. The design of this graphic is similar to the "Smart Choice" thing we see on products in the US which meet certain dietary standards. Yet the fact on the Inca Kola is that drinking the soda will help you get the liquids you need to maintain a healthy lifestyle. Dropped the ball on that one, Peruvian ministry of health) of water a day but I usually only get to 3 or 3.5 We then return to our respective tasks.

1:04 - I'm starving by this point in the day but I have to accept that lunch is eaten later here. Usually, Susana (my supervisor) will round up some folks from the office and we'll head over to the lady's house, the French hospital, or some other nearby restaurant. Lunches are quite enjoyable because it gives me a good chance to work on my Spanish not in the context of work vocabulary. While I appreciate knowing the Spanish versions of "file," "Excel spreadsheet," and "ethernet cable," I think I'll be able to get more use out of "cheating on her husband," "resisting arrest," and "gastric bypass surgery." Also, the whole "menu" concept is terrific. You pay somewhere between $2-5 and get an appetizer, main course, dessert, drink, and sometimes bread. Menus change every day so you're guaranteed variety, and even the same plates will have differences between days. Namely, on Monday your chicken soup might come with a liver and two feet, and on Thursday it comes with a neck and some skin. I'm a neck guy. We eat for about an hour and then head back to the office.

6:01 - Time to head home for the day. The walk back home is interesting because Barranco only really comes alive after dark. Lots of the restaurants, bars, and stores in the area are closed in the morning, so it's fun to see a different side to the district. I'll stop at the Metro (really more of an Albertson's than a Vons/Safeway) and pick up some snacks, breakfast foods, and stuff for dinner. The Metro is unique because you have to get your produce weighed in the produce section before proceeding to the cashier. Also, they have no peanut butter. I'll forgive that omission because they DO have a giant plastic bin shaped like a corn cob. If that weren't exciting enough, the bin contains steamed corn cobs (soaked in a mixture of water, sugar, lime, and anise. It's a very diluted mixture so the flavor of the corn is not overly masked, but rather complimented.) which you can purchase as a fun and portable snack. And I love the corn here. Great texture, huge kernels, and the kernel skin doesn't stick in your teeth. No wonder the country has such an inconsistent flossing record. They don't need to floss!

6:35 - Hit the gym! I am becoming better known at the gym, and people will often offer me a spot, ask to share equipment, or guess my height and weight. One time, the owner Oscar guessed my height based on how I appeared relative to an Argentinian soccer player. He guessed 1.86m. Nice try Oscar, but I don't appreciate being shorted 5 hard earned cm. After finishing my routine I wash my hands because some (read: all) of the equipment has a healthy (read: toxic and dirty) coating of rust (read: asbestos and used hypodermic needles). Just kidding, sort of. There is a lot of rust, though.

8:00 - Fix me up some dinner. I like to keep it simple, so I just make some sandwiches with ham, spinach, Edam cheese, aji sauce, and avocado. After finishing that I will typically go chat with some of the other guests in the Casona or maybe Juan/Kike. If I'm "in the mood," I might crack open a cold one (Cusquena, Pilsner, Cristal, in order of preference, though they all taste really really similar) and see where the night takes me.

11:11 - First I make a wish (not sure if everything is familiar with that practice, but I'll throw it out there anyways), and then take a shower and hit the hay. A healthy dose of "The Wheel of Time" calms and soothes after a busy day, and I'm out by 11:45.

I left out a lot of the content of my day, both because it would take a really long time to write and because each day has a lot of variance. If some of you think it sounds like what my days were like in the US, you're right. I am often a man of habit, but being in foreign city with a different culture definitely adds some much needed flair to the routine. And as many of you know, I am one who loves his flair.

A Trip to the Los Angeles Peluqueria

Through a strange twist of irony I somehow ended up in Lima with two (count 'em!) hair salons named after my former second hometown. And, lucky me, both Los Angeles Salons are conveniently located about two minutes from the Casona. I didn't bring my hair clippers to Lima (the only electronics I brought were my laptop and camera. Some might think I was being an efficient traveler, but I would have loved to bring my clippers. The problem is that Peru is a proud country of the Incans, llamas, Macchu Picchu, and 220V, and while my laptop and camera battery charger are well equipped to handle the robust Peruvian voltage, the clippers are not. I could have purchased a transformer [Maximals, MAXIMIZE!] but they are both pricey and bulky. And unless we are talking about Dustin Byfuglien I am not a big fan of items which are pricey and bulky), and it was time for a trim. I have not visited a barber since June of 2004 so I was understandably nervous. Also, I wasn't feeling super comfortable about describing my desired coif to the haircutter in Spanish. Would he/she know be judicious in the side burn line demarcation? Would she/he (look at that balance) exercise appropriate caution with follicle length? What about my cowlick, are we prepared for that? Granted, I don't have and didn't want a particularly complicated haircut (number 1 on the clippers all around), but I like looking my best. All this anxiousness was entirely unnecessary, but we'll find out more about that later.

I walked over to the Los Angeles Salon on "8" block of Avenida Grau (tell 'em Andrew sent you!) and was able to get a walk-in appointment. I then plopped down into the chair and started telling José what I needed. I thought that I wouldn't be able to find clippers with a #1 setting (referring to 1/8") because Peru is on the metric (read: intelligent) system, but fortunately hair clippers are truly a universal commodity. I told him I needed #1 all around. Then, clean up the neck and no funny business with the side burns. Despite my Spanish, I could tell we were on the same page so I let him get down to business. Once the clipping commenced so too began the casual barber-customer banter. I told him where I was from, what I'm doing in Lima, etc. Then he tells me that I have the most beautiful hair he has ever seen. Alright, I know I've got a pretty boss mane, but I think that's a bit of a hyperbole, don't you José? Also, you don't need to butter me up. I've already decided to get my hair cut, that's why I'm in the barber chair getting my hair cut. Whatever, I let it slide and directed my attention to CSI: Miami playing on the nearby television. I miss David Caruso's typical ill-timed zinger when José proceeds to tell me that I am "very handsome." Some have compared me to a young Paul Newman, so this isn't news to me, but I think things are getting a bit too friendly, José. I'm here for business only. Out of curiosity I ask him how old he thinks I am. That's when we went from excessive compliments to outright insult. 39?! I know I don't have what one would call a "baby face," but that's just absurd. I was rightly affronted, and when my haircut was complete I only left a $2.50 tip. Unfortunately, I may have sent the wrong message because I forgot to take into account that the haircut only cost $5.25. Oh well, he did a good job and a little ego stroking never hurt anyone.

To finish off this entry I would like to convey an important life lesson learned at the discotech: it is possible to fit three fully grown males onto a stripper pole, all while spinning and potentially threatening bodily injury to nearby dancers. No, there is nothing at all wrong with that.

Best Eyesight This Side of Breña

I took it pretty easy this weekend (if you call staying out at Sargento Pimiento until 5am rocking to licks from Nine Inch Nails, Metallica, and Chicago [I am utterly unable to explain the popularity of "If You Leave Me Now" in Lima. While eating dinner tonight the radio was playing the current 20 hottest songs in Peru, and they interjected to put on an "addictive throwback." So between doses of Lady Gaga, Ke$ha, The Black Eyed Peas, and Paramor, us lucky listeners were treated to arguably the biggest jam of 1976. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining. Chicago was as stacked with talent as the 2010 Chicago Blackhawks, what with future superstar Peter Cetera melting faces on the bass. This is just one of those things I've noticed which strikes me as a bit odd.] "taking it easy.") and mostly watched soccer and relaxed. I'm not going to apologize for my abuse of parenthetical asides, but upon re-reading that last one even I got a little confused. I met a very friendly Australian/Kiwi couple traveling around the world together. They were actually in the Casona for a decent portion of the week, but I never sat down and talked to them. Reece and Jemma had noticed me as well. Reece told me that when they saw me walking in the Casona eating a carrot (the carrots here are very large, and I like to eat them as a convenient, portable, and nutrient-filled snack. I would advise caution when sampling Peruvian carrots, however. They are rather tough and fibrous so it is important to have strong mandibles for adequate mastication. Love to savor that English!) they knew I was "an easy going fella." I appreciate the compliment, but I am still not entirely clear what eating carrots suggests about my personality. Anyhow, we got to talking, and I learned that they had worked on an Australian winery for three months to save up their travel budget. Twelve hour days, six days a week sounded tough, but now this happy couple is free to go wherever they want and do whatever they want to do. If money doesn't buy you freedom, then what's the point? I'm not sure if my own trip will reveal universal truths or instill me with new values, but I definitely agree with that last statement. Unfortunately, they took a taxi back from a club on Thursday night and got into a bit of a fix (if you have seen "The Golden Compass" and/or "The Big Lebowski," you probably remember the cowboy character [Scoresby in "Compass" and the narrator in "Lebowski"] and his distinctive, western style of diction. I would LOVE to be able to pull that off.) The taxi drive took them way out of the way of their desired destination, and unfortunately they didn't know Lima particularly well. Next thing they know the taxi stops, three kids pull them out of the car, and take their money and valuables. They're okay now, just a little shaken up, but it's a really good reminder to me to be vigilant. Otherwise I would have to introduce the taxi driver to my deadly sense of humor. *Crickets*

Speaking of sense of humor, I was reading some hockey commentary and the author made a devilishly funny comment involving both hockey and "Star Trek: The Next Generation." I literally laughed out loud (LOL) and immediately wanted to share the levity with someone else. Then I thought for a moment. How many people do I know that enjoy both hockey and Star Trek? I have a few (operative word is "few") hockey friends and a few Star Trek fans, but it's just my luck that there is no overlap in that Venn diagram. It was a real gem, though. However, I will share a different funny moment from my week. But first, some background. In Lima, and presumably many other cities, there are young women who target touristy looking gringos in bars and clubs. They will flirt and show a lot of interest, but what they really want is free drinks, meals, shows, etc. and to live the good life for a night. I can't really think of an equivalent in the US. They are called "brincheras" and are typically on the younger/poorer side. I hope never to encounter a brinchera, but they are often the source of jokes in the GEA office banter. So Melissa and I are at a convenience store in Villa Maria del Triunfo buying some snacks for a meeting with the Buena Voz teachers. While we are purchasing these Teachers' Day goodies, the cashier asks us if we are married. I don't know what it is down here but people are always asking about your marital status. Well, Melissa informed the cashier that we are most definitely not married. I responded, in true Limeno fashion (I'm not sure if any Liman would ever say this, but I really wanted to show off my increasing Spanish vocabulary), that she is actually my brinchera. Hearty laughter consumed the store, and I beamed smugly with my dynamite word choice. Andrew: 1, Inadequate Personal Expression Due to Not Speaking Spanish for Eight Years and Then Deciding to Go Off the Deep End and Spend Six Months in Lima: 0.

By the way, there are more photos in the Flickr account.

A Touch Point By Any Other Name...

For those of you who know me, and I would reckon that to be everyone, you are aware of my time spent in the consulting field. Now, consulting has a lingo all its own, and I find it to be one of the most irritating aspects of the job. I'm sure that other fields have their own sayings that really sting the ears, but I only know the consulting ones. Let me share some of the worst offenders:

Why must we say "Can you reach out to Fran?" when we mean "Can you call Fran?" There is no reaching, and she may be right next to you (which is hardly "out").

Is "Leverage your past experience" more meaningful than "Use your past experience"? Of course it isn't, unless we're talking about physics.

I'm sorry, that "Touch point scheduled at 4 for us to touch base with each other" really doesn't work for me. I don't find you the sort of person I would like to touch points nor bases with (NSFW!!!). However, I would be delighted to have a "Meeting scheduled at 4 for us to talk."

You want to "Circle back this afternoon"? That's a shame because I'm not very flexible, but we can "Meet this afternoon" instead.

"Value proposition"? Speak it in English, broski.

That's only a minute sampling of the content that one hears in the wonderful world of consulting. Does it contribute additional meaning or save valuable time? Perhaps sometimes, but as a guy who enjoys his words its painful for me to hear them used in this way. The majority of the time these words/phrases are filler or additives to make the speaker seem more informed, professional, and competent. For those of us who hear them all the time it has the complete opposite effect. And yes, I am guilty of using them periodically, but it's hard not to when they are so prevalent.

"Where is Andrew going with this and can I take a break to go nuke some Totino's Pizza Rolls?" you might be asking yourself. Of course! I am hardly one to impede pizza roll consumption. In fact, I too would go nuke some pizza rolls if the small store outside the office had a freezer section stocked with American frozen goods. However, I will eventually get to the point. Yesterday, the directors of each of the Grupo GEA branches (there are about 6) and some supporting staff shlepped out to Pachacamac for a bi-annual evaluation meeting. Pachacamac is a district to the south of Lima and is famous for its Incan ruins. I will visit the ruins next Saturday on a field trip with the schools, but the meeting yesterday was held in the farming area of Pachacamac. The 20 of us arrived at a small compound comprised of several small houses, some gardens, and an outdoor cooking area. Don't get grandiose visions of the place - it really felt like someone's house. I'm not positive it wasn't someone's house because there were only three people serving lunch and they could easily have been family members. There was also a very rare fauna, the Llamalax. It's a fascinating variety of llama with the head of a horse...and the body of a horse.

Once we arrived and settled in to the patio on the side of the house, the laptop and projector came out. I was starting to get bad feelings because this meeting was shaping up to be like the meetings I had while consulting. I still held out hope that we might be watching some videos, holding a video conference, or singing Spanish karaoke, but my hopes were crushed when the first PowerPoint slide appeared. I came down here to GET AWAY FROM THAT! I calmed down and reminded myself that:

a. This is not consulting, the content will be different
b. I am volunteering, suck it up
c. Consulting really isn't that bad and I am just thinking this way to have material for the blog entry on Friday

Once I composed myself I was ready to translate the whole affair for Jim (who had returned after running his marathon in Pacasmayo). Then the lingo started to seep into the presentations. "Strategic alliance" mentioned 12 times in the span of 15 minutes. Breathe. I'm okay. "Communication plan" 14 times, and then again 6 times in the following presentation. Take a break, grab some coffee. We're good. "Synergistic positive baselining??" C'mon that doesn't even mean anything!! I must concede that last one didn't actually appear, but during the course of the day I must have heard the first two a total of 40 times. I'm not saying they don't have meaning or merit. However, it's frustrating to hear these phrases repeated again and again as if they are the path to success for Grupo GEA. If the sandwich has a great name but doesn't have any meat (or meat substitute) on the inside, it's not going to quell your hunger (for organizational success). I was just frustrated to see the plans for growth saturated more with buzzwords than concrete ideas and actions. Don't get me wrong, with my Spanish I probably missed most of the actual content. Further, who am I to say what the path should be for a Peruvian NGO? I just noticed that some of the minor annoyances that I saw in consulting definitely appear in other countries, in other industries, in other languages. So much for escaping.

More Wonton Soup, Please, Ricardo

Today is the national "Day of the Teacher" (I'm amazed by the volume of holidays Peru has for various categories of people. So alive this culture!) so, of course, we head out to a Chifa for a team lunch. I'm not certain if I have mentioned Chifas before so I will give a quick recap. They are the Peruvian version of a Chinese restaurant. Lima has a very large Chinese population, and a seemingly even larger population of Chifas. The food tastes roughly 80% Chinese and 20% Peruvian, and it is typically very affordable. Now we all know Chifas.

Nine of us made the trek over to a Chifa in the Surco district after two of my coworkers attested that it was both cheap and delicious (necessary sidetrack: here in Lima, people use the word "rico" as an adjective for something that is delicious. I have talked to Limans who speak flawless English and they have confirmed that this translation is correct. What made me suspicious about the meaning was the incredible frequency with which folks here describe food as "rico." Seriously, everything is "rico!" Maybe I'm old fashioned, but I prefer to be a bit more judicious when describing foods as delicious. Was that Tuna Helper actually delicious? No, it was satisfactory. What about the Clams Casino? Yes, that was actually delicious and by calling it "delicious" you have an adequate basis for determining if you too want some Clams Casino. I'm probably just uptight.). Upon arrival we were escorted to our table on the second floor of the restaurant. Three differences between a Chifa and a typical American Chinese restaurant immediately came to mind. First, there was a World Cup playing on several TVs in the background. Second, every single table (and by "every single table" I mean every single table) had one or more somewhat chilled bottles of Inca Kola on the table. I'm all about trying new things, and I tried Inca Kola, but I just can't force myself to like a bright yellow soft drink that tastes EXACTLY like bubble gum. It's the national drink of Peru and is more popular than Coke, but brother, it just doesn't do it for me. Third, all the diners were cheering for Uruguay rather than the Netherlands (and as we all know, the Chinese greatly favor northern European countries when it comes to soccer).

Some of you might think that the differences end there and that the rest of the lunch was comparable to a Chinese lunch in the US. In a sense, you're absolutely right. Besides the lack of chopsticks and way more Peruvian waiters, this Chifa did feel like an American Chinese restaurant. If it was 1955. From what my grandparents tell me about Chinese food during the Eisenhower administration, there was a lot less complexity and subtlety to the cooking (to cater to American diners, I suppose). Sauces were saucier, everything was fried, and it wasn't a successful meal unless you had a bright pink plate of sweet and sour something (don't forget the pineapple!). That fairly accurately describes food at the Chifas (except they also use spaghetti noodles in lieu of rice or egg noodles). I really enjoy all the facets and nuances of Peruvian cuisine, but for the life of me I can't understand why the Chifa is so rica. A trip to Dumpling House or anywhere in the San Gabriel Valley is a top priority upon returning to the US.

In other news, there are more pictures posted to the Flickr account if you have some time to kill. Also, those letters in the last post were not real. I know, they were extremely plausible, but I just wanted to clarify that I conjured them out of thin air. However, if you actually want to ask questions just email me at andrewmgreen@gmail.com and I will give you a response that is 50% actual information, 50% parenthetical sidetracking/useless commentary, and 100% rico.

Reader Mail - Round One

Before I delve into the task of replying to letters I have received from passionate readers of this blog I have to give a quick recap of last night. Contrary to what I was told, Saturday was not "Big Cat Night" at Sargento Pimiento. Once we discovered this disappointing news we changed plans and headed to a house party. Sounds normal enough, right? Well, this is house is owned by a friend of Kike and Juan's who happens to also own a bar in Barranco. This particular evening he was hosting a number of different reggae singers and DJs. Reggae party inside some guy's house (including a snack bar which was just a guy in his kitchen making hamburgers)? I think we all know the decision I made. Now on to the questions!
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Dear Andrew,

I absolutely love the blog! Your writing skills are second to none, and you must be very handsome and courageous. These stories are really helping me get through my days at the baseball bat factory. My questions relate to food, and are 2-fold (sic):

1. Everything you have eaten sounds absolutely mouthwatering!!! But I have to know, do you like ceviche, lomo saltado, or empanadas (from Perlizza of course!) the best?

2. What sort of things have you been cooking in the Casona?

Keep it up, A-town!!!

Dietrich
Louisville, KY

Dietrich,

Thank you for the compliments, but I'm afraid you exaggerate my qualities. And I'm really happy to hear you like the blog. I don't have a very strong readership in Kentucky, so it's great to know that you are holding down the fort. In regard to your queries:

1. Yes.

2. I've kept food preparation relatively simple at the Casona. The kitchen does not have a wide variety of spices, pots, pans, knives, etc. so complex recipes are much more of a hassle. We've made omelets, quesadillas, sandwiches, stewed chicken with mushrooms, garlic rice, and sauteed asparagus (last night, under the watchful eyes of Mariana, a friend of Juan's who is also a chef with her own restaurant, and Jessica), pasta, and tacos. Whatever is fast, straightforward, and filling.
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Andrew,

I have a bit of a dilemma. There is a chap who I fancy very much, but I'm afraid he doesn't feel the same way about me. Last night, some friends, myself, and "Igor" went out to a chipper and then to a pub. Everyone was dancing but I was terribly afraid of dancing with him. What if he turns me down and I'm stuck there like a bloody idiot? At the end of the night we went our separate ways, and I once again ended up alone in my flat. What do I do??

Lovestruck in Liverpool

Lovestruck,

I think that you might have intended to email a different Andrew with you question, but I'll take a stab at it nonetheless. Mind you, I am not a trained expert nor qualified in any way to give relationship advice. In fact, I would say that asking a random passerby on the street would probably get you a better answer than what I am about to tell you. Now that we have that out there, I say that the next time you and Igor are out on the town and some dancing commences, you go right up over there and grind up on him. If he likes you he will definitely get the message, and if he doesn't, well at least you don't have to waste any more time wondering "what if." And remember, you would only be a bloody idiot for NOT trying.
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Dear Andrew,

I was just curious what your travel plans are. Keep up the great work, mate, and have a Vegemite sandwich on me!

Sandra
Perth, Australia

Sandra,

That's not technically a question, but I'll still fill you in on my plans. Also, I must inform the other readers that the Perth contingent has been very active in the comments and email sections of the blog. Keep it up, guys! I love the interaction. And for you other citizens of the world, you have some big shoes to fill.

Right now I have only two definite trips in mind. I will be taking off one week in September (for a total of 9 free days with the weekends) to visit Cusco, Macchu Picchu, Lake Titicaca, Puno, and possibly Arequipa if there is time. This will be my one big trip and will give me an overview of the south of Peru. In July I will take a couple days off work to go to Huaraz (middle north part of Peru) because my coworker Melissa is hosting an international art festival there. It's supposed to be a beautiful town (both the architecture and the surroundings), and with the festival I have an excuse to check it out. I also want to see the Nazca lines at some point, and maybe visit a few other cities. However, I think I will only do one big trip so that I save money and don't slack too much at work.
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Great letters, folks! Time to prepare Sunday night dinner. I'm going to hit the hay early tonight because the past three nights I returned past 4am. My American body just isn't equipped to party so hearty.

There are a few new photos in my Flickr account. Link to the right.

Happy 4th of July!

You Say Discotech, I Say Sargento Pimiento

Three weeks in, and I still wake up not knowing exactly what my day is going to look like. Maybe I start things off expecting a Liv Tyler sort of day only to realize halfway in that it is actually a Stephen Tyler day. Other times I luck out, and the day I thought looked like Alf actually looks like Martha Stewart (I don't care what anyone says, I find Martha Stewart to be a very attractive older lady [yes, even now. Especially now!]. Sure, she knows how to throw together a Bedford dinner party better than anyone and has a generous bank account, but I'm going to be shallow and say that I'm in it for the looks. She first captured my amorous attention when I saw her interviewing on Letterman. There was clearly some playful flirtation, and after seeing the way she uses her eyes...well, I'd melt easier than that 73% Valhrona single origin Côte d'Ivoire chocolate in her ganache. Just imagine how she looked 30 years ago!).

Thursday was one of the more unpredictable days. Once I arrived at the GEA office I was informed that we would have a visitor. Jim (I can't remember his last name, but he's a British PriceWaterhouse partner living in Hong Kong in case you want to give him a holler) is a donor supporting one of the seven schools in the Buena Voz program. As previously mentioned, he lives in Hong Kong, and he decided he would drop by Lima to check out GEA and his school. Oh and after, how about a marathon hosted by some tiny village in the Andes? Some people live in totally different realities from what I am accustomed to. Anyhow, he shows up and we (the Buena Voz team + 1, 1 being Jim) head out for a delightful seafood lunch at the upscale cevicheria, La Mar. I know that sounds flippant, but the lunch was delightful. We shared five different varieties of ceviche, imbibed Pisco Sours, and enjoyed a warmish breeze. Jim was a good guy with no pretensions, and it was valuable to meet someone from the financing side of things. However, my coworkers (all but one) don't speak more than a few words of English. Jim speaks one, maybe two words in Spanish. Enter Andrew the translator. Translating was easier than I expected, and I was able to add my commentary without either side knowing. For instance, I told Jim that Susana is explaining how now that she is pregnant she is usually cold and likes to eat all sorts of weird foods. For good measure, I added that the father happens to be Tom Cruise and the baby was conceived on the most recent space shuttle mission. Or, when Jim was telling Karina about the marathon he'll be running in the mountains, I made sure she also knew that his training includes an exclusively baby panda diet. I think everyone had much more colorful interactions this way. Is that wrong? Maybe, but that's not really for us to decide.

After lunch, Karina, Susana, Jim, and I went to the Lima museum of art (MALI) to check out the pop art exhibit before letting Jim call it a day. The building itself was stately and beautiful. The pop art was...a little bit hard to understand. I already discuss enough things about which I am not adequately educated (music, sociology, llama husbandry) so I think it's best for everyone if I just leave the art alone. The next day Jim went to Callao with Melissa to check out the school he is supporting and then it's off to race in the Andes. Hope he brought some extra panda jerky!

Friday night the Casona Roja gang (Bruno, Dino, Mariana, Juan, Etienne, two Swiss girls, one Danish girl, one German girl, two Dutch guys, Jessica, and myself) found ourselves rocking to the melodies of some local hard rock bands at Sargento Pimiento. I find the name to be deliciously clever. It is a direct translation of "Sergeant Pepper" and it rhymes. The bands were not quite so satisfying. They covered some American rock from the 70s and 80s which was fine, but their original songs were the definition of hard rock cliche (think about the songs from "This Is Spinal Tap."). For those who haven't seen Spinal Tap, I will give you a small taste of what we were up against. The best song name I remember was "Roar Like A Lion." Not really a chorus that fires the people up. Besides the lion tamers and Siegfried and Roy groupies of course, both of which came out in surprising force on Friday. We only stayed for a little while and then headed to another bar which seems to feature all your favorite 90's top 40 hits. I know I harp on the music a lot, but it is absolutely fascinating the stuff one hears. I literally can't predict even remotely accurately what song might follow another. Once the clock hit 4:30 we decided to call it a night (with "Your Woman" by White Town in the background). I'm sure that those who have traveled more than me are accustomed to the late nights out, but I tell you what brother, it's absolutely brutal when you're doing it three nights in a row. I'm thinking that Saturday will probably have to be a night in. Wait a second...what's that I hear, Juan? It's "Big Cat" night at Sargento Pimiento? No cover, you say? Heck yes I want to be on the list.

Yes, I'll Have Some 'I Can't Believe It's Not Butter' on My Street Corn

I have mentioned this before, and by no means do I believe it to be a unique phenomenon, but Lima is truly a city of contrasts. We could debate the underlying causes for these contrasts (the biggest probably being rapid economic development), but I would rather just present some of my findings and let you be the judge.

The most striking contrast is the mix of new and old in the city. However, I think it's important to note that this melting pot does not resemble certain cities which also display a mingling of the modern and the antique (Boston and Rome both come to mind). In Lima, you will see gleaming art galleries, boutique clothes stores, and sleek restaurants nestled between centuries old mansions, shack-like storefronts, and abandoned buildings. My first impression was that the city was falling into disrepair, but as I spend more time here I enjoy finding the hidden gems. You also see shiny Porsche's parked next to 70's mototaxis (a mototaxi is a charming little creation, composed of a motorcycle which has a cab built around it and two wheels added in the back. So your driver will be riding a motorcycle up front while you bask in the comfort (I should note that these are regarded as the most uncomfortable and dangerous, albeit cheapest, transportation option in Lima) of the cab in back. I consider it the Liman transportation mullet. And of course, you see everyone, young and old, with cellphones.

In just over two weeks I have met some of the warmest and most ingratiating people. I'm just the gringo coming in with grand delusions of saving Peru, yet they greeted me happily, brought me into their homes, showed genuine interest in me, helped me nail down the locations of the prime wig shops, and really made me feel welcome. I can't say enough about how impressed I have been with the kindness of Peruvians (based on the Lima subset). Of course there will always be bad seeds, but overall they are a great bunch. The situation becomes decidedly different once you hit the streets. As drivers, Limans are rude, inconsiderate, risky, harassing, selfish, and arguably insane. Merging into a lane requires you to direct your car into another car and just hope it moves out of the way. There is no courtesy. Is that an ambulance I see behind me? I imagine that it is on its way to attend to some health emergency. I should probably stay right where I am so that I don't lose my prime spot. Better yet, I could initiate a slow merge into the lane to which the ambulance is also merging. I see that the ambulance driver noticed the other lane is moving faster, but I'm not so dense to miss that opportunity. I'm going first! Out of my way! I'm a motorist! As a pedestrian you are never given the right of way. Crossing the street amounts to a game of chicken with the bus/micro/combi/taxi/microtaxi/bicycle/scooter/motorcycle/hovercar/Tie Fighter that wants to get somewhere. It's really amazing how getting behind the wheel transforms these great people into complete jerks. Again, there are good seeds, but while driving around Lima it sure seems like they are few and far between.

How can avocados be so cheap and peanut butter be so expensive?! How can corn kernels be so big and door openings be so small?! How can there be so much coffee cultivation yet so little actual ground coffee (instant is the default)?! Am I the only one who finds this all nuts?!

Though it is a big city, Lima is surrounded by natural beauty. Their are beautiful views of the ocean from the sea cliffs on which the Miraflores, San Isidro, and Barranco districts are perched. The topography of rolling hills and the ever-present fog reminds me of San Francisco. Only a few hours away are towering snow capped mountains. However, the city is also plagued by the natural consequences of development. The smog is terrible, and I felt like I wasn't able to breathe the first time I rode in a taxi. There is not a problem with trash littering the streets, but there is a widespread problem of canine refuse littering the streets. I know some people say New York is dirty, but they really have their dog poop act together. After the great food and interesting neighborhoods, that is probably the aspect of New York I value the most. But hold on there, Andrew, you're digressing. The other dirty element of Lima is the dirt. When it rains in the US, the streets become wet. When it rains here, the streets become muddy even though they are made of asphalt. I don't know where the dirt comes from, and frankly I don't want to know, but it's here, it's clear, and it doesn't want any clean streets.

I want to keep going, but the DJ over at 88.3 FM just dropped "If You Leave Me Now" by Chicago. You might be asking "How could we end it all this way?" but I'm afraid that's it for me today.