Prologue reposted here for continuity
>>>>>Ok, it all began a while back, (leans back, scratches chin, chair tips over backwards spilling the writer to the floor)

(from floor) Uh...

my interest in Peru began long ago with an keen interest in the "lost city" and the rich history of that part of the world. I never really got around to visiting there for a very long time.

Ok, it is all CFK's fault. I take it back, a lot of the blame has to go to RTGooch. They could not just let me be, happy in the places that I have visited often. Twenty one visits to Brazil since 2002. Countless visits to Central America, a place where I am more "at home" than I am at home. Brief forays to Colombia. Going back a bit, visits to most of the carribean destinations. Work stints in northern Europe, romance and more in eastern Europe.

In late December, I found myself sitting in business class of a 767 headed for Lima, Peru. I was in a very introspective mood. Not a being ponderous sort of guy, it was somewhat strange as the last year began to play in my mind like a docudrama on Sundance. Docudrama with freeze-frame, rewind/replay and fast forward. It was 4 weeks after a shortened rio trip

I had been out of the country more in the past 15 months than at any time since the 1980s. Eight trips to Brazil during that period plus trips to central america where I have family.

I got close to the flame in November of 2006, and stepped happily into the inferno. I am still happy about my time in the fire.

She was not my first extended/deepened relationship with a brasiliera but right from the start it was the most intense. I was not looking for it, just sorta slowed down for a moment to tie my shoe in life and got picked up on the cowcatcher of a 80 mph locomotive. Sitting on a cowcatcher is not the most secure chair in life but the view, pacing and sheer adrenaline rush just cannot be matched. No new senses discovered but the intensity of each sensation was expanded, magnified and amplified. Each sound was louder and more urgent, each touch sensor like a thunderbolt, each smell sweet but strong. The view out of the apartment we shared was not just of the trees, the cars on the street, and glimpses into the apartments across the street. No, it was of the varigation of the individual leaves on the trees, the position of the eyebrows of the people riding in the cars and the facial expression of jesus in the neon picture on the wall in the dining room directly across the street and one floor up. Not that I remember any details, no. None, nothing, nada.

Ok, I remember everything. You caught me.

What an interesting piece of time. Coming back from abdominal surgery, to that first week together, to a Reveillon together in Copa, the best week in my life in Parraty, to the dodging and ducking of an entire kitchen full of dishes hand thrown as me as I stuffed items into my bag that last night. More surgery exactly one year from the previous one . Perfect. Would not change a thing. Ok, I would have changed having surgery but nothing else.

When I was 10, I had a pet bobcat. From the time I first found her as a starving cub I knew that my life was changed forever There is a undeniable yearning to be a part of the wildness, joining the unrestrained path of creature who knew no fear and possessed the ultimate security of needing no security.

Her eyes were unbelievable, a deep green fading to light green to white, then white with tan transluscent patterns, then pure white...wrapped around impossibly black pupils . The brasiliera's eyes were just as intense as hers with that same intangible that screamed "no limits".

My sharply-clawed childhood friend put me in the emergency room multiple times. The injuries were not from malice but unintended injuries that resulted from the intensity of our play. She wrecked the drapes in our house, broke countless items, chewed through a live electrical cord that put her into a coma, nearly drowned in the aquarium and dragged an almost dead water mocassin into the family room. She mauled a chow and caused my mother to have an involuntary bowel movement when it killed and ate half of a neighbor's chihauhua. Then finally, she backed out from around a hairball the size of a lincoln log onto the open family bible in the living room. Right there on psalms. I knew then that the end of the dance was near. It was all too quick but so packed with emotion, wonder and adventure. And wildness. No experience was as complete or as intense.

She reached out to me as the elevator door closed on her hand. I was flung back into the horrorfic moment of seeing my dad using a paintbrush to push paws of my only friend into the car trunk so the lid could be closed. I was rigid, I could not breathe and I suspect that my heart stopped for a while. I awakened with the doorman shaking me in the elevator with several people staring intently from the lobby. I was right back on the front steps as my father exited the car with his tattered shirt and and his arm wrapped with wrapped with electrical tape that failed to close a freely draining gash.

There is a gap of memory from that moment on the steps to my first day of junior high school. Memory is scarce from the resurrection from the elevator floor until I awakened from my 2nd abdominal surgery in 12 months. I remember a visit to Rio 3 months after the elevator ride. I met another magic but not-so-feral brasiliera during that week and nailed 4 others. Then there is another gap in time from then until I awakened from my second abdominal surgery in 12 months. I visited brasil again 10 days after this surgery, the trip that everyone said I could not do. It made me feel better, just like every rio trip before. My surgeon had told me that the goal was for me to feel better. I felt better in Rio but I was forced home by the rapid ebbing of strength. The surgery had taken its toll and the fatigue was the paintbrush pushing me into the trunk of the car. The clunk of the plane door closing stabbed me in the chest, way too similar to the sound of old Ford trunklid slamming shut.

A few months later I read in the local "Daily Astonisher" that a man in the south part of the county had broken his hip late one night when surprised by a "huge cat" lunging out of the window of his parked car. Open windows in the south were the norm in the pre-aircondioned and pre-cartheft south. She had often slept in the seat of my father's tired old truck. The newspaper article was the only time that god spoke to me as a child, telling me that wildness was still a force in this world and making herself felt.

On christmas eve, the phone rang flashing a european area code and the voice purred from the earpiece. She said that she still did not understand why I broke and ran. She had only actually hit me with one coffee cup out of the 57 dishes that she had tossed that night and furthermore she had passed on asking me to buy her new dishes. The resulting silence was ended by several minutes of bellowing and whooping laughter, a shared experience that was a huge part of our time together. Wildness is alive and still strong enough to provoke an overdue session of savagely unrestained laughter from 5000 miles away. Good to hear from you again, god, it has been awhile.

Huh??? (blinks)

Mr. bliss, are you ok? We are in Lima. Do you need any help?<<<<<<<<<<<


"Mr. Bliss! Are you SURE that you are OK? How can I help you?" Well my nuts itch a lttile, uh... "WHAT?" Nebermind (I get a little cranky when interrupted in deep ponder not to mention when someone implies I cannot take care of myself) but in truth the comment about my itchy nuts never got all of the way out. Never a good idea to piss off the flight crew, they may be on the return flight!

Being still a bit limited from surgery I dragged my computer bag down from the overhead bin and gripped the handle then let it fall down to the seat below, at least that was the plan. Some young wiseacre decided to pass under my arm to beat his way to the door ahead of everyone else. 6.5 pounds of hewlett-packard rained down right in the back of the head. He spun toward me with a look like he was about to take a swing at me. I smiled and said thanks for helping me with my computer.. I gathered it in and headed down the aisle toward the door.

I trudged my way through what turned out to be a modern and well run airport. Immigration was a snap with a short line that moved very fast. It is now one line that feeds a several immigration booths with a person who directs traffic to the booths. Immigration took less than 10 minutes total. A short walk later brought me into a large room that contained all of the baggage conveyers. My bag came out shortly after the conveyer started moving and luck was on my side.

Customs was as easy, hand them your completed card and punch the green/red selector button. I got a green light and in less than 20 minutes I was facing getting a cab. There are many cab drivers vying for your services just outside the glass doors. There were also "registered" cabs where you fill out a form that is retained and you are driven in new japanese car with a large driver wearing a suit. The new japanese car is parked right outisde, isolated by traffic cones, no need to wait.

But the fare for these cabs was 30 US dollar to go to miraflores. I negotiated with one of the hordes and got a cab for 15 dollars. Highest cab fare of the entire trip.

My taxi driver and I spoke a bit enroute to the hotel I had booked online. We eventually drove by Park Kennedy and he explained that there is music, food, drinking and dancing in that area, it was the party zone of the city. And indeed, the place was crawling with people including many very attractive ladies, some alone, some in groups. What struck me most is how absolutely prisitine the park looked, amazing. I spotted Pizza Alley. I confirmed with my driver that indeed it calle de pizza (pizza alley). Cool.

My hotel Pousada de la Marquez is an old mansion that was converted into a small hotel, and only 4 blocks from Park Kennedy. The lobby was old but had an elgance about it, a marble and mahogony staircase wound its way up to the next floor. I had booked a room there online for $44 dollars a night. The room turned out to be very clean with a new bathroom but a bit small. I had delayed booking until the last minute and they were the only place that returned my email promptly at that late date (the night before the trip down) and confirmed my room. I took it and it was a good place. It was one of the accomodations that CFK had recommended and his advice helped trememdous throughout this trip.

The hotel was a bit eccentric but that is not a bad thing since I fit right it. There was a bit of the Latina version of "Fawlty Towers" in the way that it was run but I found it to be entertaining and charming. After two nights I switched to a suite that they have in the hotel that was complete with jacuzzi, sauna and a balcony. The place was fun and suite was a hit with the new lady friends that I met. The rack rate for the suite was $110 which I quickly got down to $90 by using the "20 second wordless stare" bargaining technique that CFK had coached me on.

(I did several several speeches from the suite balcony to the masses on the sidewalks below. Ok, the audience was sometimes a bit less than masses but I was able to get a row out of them especially when I was speaking passionately in unknown toungues. Growing up in snakehandling country would bring some type of advantage at some point in my life. I am conversational in spanish but the Pentacostal influenced 'tonguespeak' had a bigger impact on my audience. One more week and I could have taken over the government with the help of 33 naked peruvianas.

20 minutes after my arrival at the hotel I had done the three "S"s, and put on some snappy clothes. I stepped down the lobby to leave my key and asked about music and such. The desk clerk said go out the front door, run left walk 20 kilometers and turn left on Larco. Four blocks of walking will put you at the park and all of the places that surround it." Damn, that is exactly what CFK said and it matched the map he gave me. CFK must have sold him one of those 3 soles to him also..

I walked the 20 kilometers, turned left on Larco and walking toward me was a lovely woman. She smiled at me and I think I might have glowed just a bit in response. Two steps later, she said "do you speak english?" I kept walking and she said, "hablar espanol?" I spoke over my shoulder "yes and si". "Let me talk with you!" and she followed me down the street for a bit. I guess I was caught off guard or I would have stopped and chatted for a bit. But I was on a mission, headed to Pizza Alley and Tequila Rock in that order. "Tal vez mas tardes" I said to her finally and headed on down the street. I think to mysel "things are going well!"

I walked past the large cathedral at the park, looked left and there was Pizza Alley, smiling at me across the park. It was a bustle of activity at that hour and I enjoyed a 5 minute stroll through it. But my mind was focused on Tequila Rock and I recrossed the park and walked right up to the bright green and red sign that said, "Tequila Rock". This is a recent addition that makes the place much easier to find. Word is that CFK and RT had requested the sign be put up because they felt that I would never find the place otherwise. Nice of the boys, eh?

I walked up, bought my ticket and there taped to the glass at the TR ticket window was our dear friend CopperfieldKid. I almost did not recognize him with the red circle and slash across his face. I started down the stairs to a landing halfway down where I met the security patdown lady. Sort of hefty gal, she was pleasant enough and it seemed like she put a little "something extra" into the patdown. She grinned broadly when I request that she do it over again but she sent me on my way with a slap to my butt. It was the first feminine contact that I had in Peru and I was smiling. to be continued

(Message edited by blissman on February 09, 2008)

Bliss,

I am selling those maps to anyone I can, how else do you think I can pay for my CH membership.
Yes, Tequila Rock has a new neon sign, it was so YOU could find the place, I told them about your toilet problems and they immediatly knew what to do. By the way, the security girl does not feel that you running in and out every 20 minutes constitutes the need to be re-frisked! She also wonders why you kept turning sideways during the pat down! I think she is on to you getting a free feel........
CFK

Part 2: Should it be this easy?

As I came down the stairs and into the main room, I was met with the heavy throb of Latina house music. The dance floor is directly in from of the stairwell and to my left was the main L-shaped Bar. To the right was a small bar against the wall with tables in front of it framed by the back wall and the dance floor. The restrooms are at that end of the bar. (It is important to make a note of the toilet locations. There is nothing quite as embarrassing as having to make a penis tourniquet out of a shoelace while trying to find the facilities.) In the far corner to the left there is another bar which would become my base of operations for Tequila Rock visits.

As I entered the room a smiling blonde seated at the L-shaped bar brushed my hand and winked. So far, so good. A couple of steps further I became aware that many, many eyes were focused on me as I made my way along the corridor between the main bar and the dance floor. This would be no big deal for many people but for an attention -starved soul like me it was an opportunity for an audience that must not be missed. (Keep in mind that I grew up in a region where a disturbing percentage of people utter the words “Watch this!” in the last couple of seconds before their death.) I paused for a moment, lifted my left foot with my right hand and examined the bottom of my shoe. With a shrug and a look of dismay, I turned around and headed toward the men’s room walking carefully, heel-only on my left foot.

The restroom is a standard latin american piss center but significantly cleaner than the norm. There was a toilet attendant in there who hustled to get paper pulled for each person washing their hands. I have often wondered how many of the people with this job are on anti-depressants. After I drop some change into his little tray I could tell by his joyous reaction that I need to pay closer attention to the funny little coins that I got at the airport money-changing kiosk. He was my buddy for each of my visits to pee-central..

As I re-entered the main room it became obvious how much attention is focused on persons coming into the entrance at the foot of the stairs. It also became evident that my doggypoo-on-the-shoe theater had been a great a great success. An amazing number of people feel like they know you after they see you in a moment like that, identifying with a guy who faces the disappointments in life, overcomes them and forges ahead. I make my way across the room with lots of interaction with my audience coupled with chitchat and smiles. I felt like it would have been a good time to pass out campaign buttons. (Sorry about putting you through this, but I am but a simple man who must savor the little patches of sunshine that sparsely dot his bleak existence.)

I found myself at the bar at the far-left corner of the room at the end of the bar. I took a seat at the far end of it with my back to the wall. As I seated myself I remembered a post by one of the pioneers to this place who noted that this location is the only one that gives a full view of the entire L-shaped room. Thanks bud.

I noticed immediately how friendly the place is, each person at the bar giving me at least a nod. There were two bartenders, a young fellow with glasses and a feisty little blonde who I was immediately drawn to. (There is something about female bartenders!) She took my order of a cerveza and, accurately sizing me up, started a tab for me.

There were many smiles coming my way but no overt aggression that is so annoying at many venues. There were two 8s to my right that were tag-teaming a local fellow. It was evident by their chatter that he was a local type and they were previously acquainted. When they made references to “the bear” I knew that they were speaking of me and not my old coach that they named an animal after. All three were friendly and the guy did not seem to mind the attention that the young ladies began shifting to me. We began to chitchat a bit and I was happy to realize that the slightly different Spanish pronunciations were not as difficult to grasp as I had anticipated. The flaca brunette asked me where I was from and I said the name of my no-so-well-known city but not my country. She immediately asked “Brasil?” I laughed and said “no, USA.” As lame as my Portuguese is, it still managed to fuck up some of my Spanish pronunciations.

At some point she asked about my watch. I showed the cheap shiny watch to her and she admired it. I told her it was from Kmart. She turned to her friend and cooed “Kmart” with the reverence that is normally reserved for places named “Bethlehem” and “Tiffany’s.” One phenomenon about the times we live in is that one must pay a lot of money these days for a watch that looks cheap. But for $6.99 you can buy a watch that looks like one that would have been worn during previous eras only by royalty, dictators, mafia, CFK and his fellow members of the Illuminati.

She was quite hot and looked more Italian than Latin. It turns out that she is a student as is her friend who is now returned to her conversation with the local fellow. It became evident to me that she either not in the trade or possibly a part-timer who fills in the gaps of her monthly budget with nights at Tequila Rock. In any event, there was a shyness and seemingly a genuine girlishness that I would normally have found irresistible. But tonight I wanted professional help. She wanted to try on my watch and I let her. It was still on her wrist later on when I slipped out with another hottie with whom I had rich and meaningful overnight relationship. The cheap watch was a small goodwill investment on a future evening.

She was sitting at the other end of the bar giving me furtive looks as I chatted off and on with the woman seated to my right wearing my watch from the internationally-known jeweler, Kmart. Long dark hair framing an angelic face, her lovely eyes as dark as anthracite. Her smile were either the handiwork of god (on a good day) or at least that of a gifted orthodontist. As I caught her eyes with mine her glimpses became longer and a little less furtive. (“Furtive”, a recent word-of-the-day I picked up in my quest to gain command of the English language.)

By the time that she had gotten to the point where she was dabbing at her face while looking over the top of her compact mirror at me, the shy princess to my right, her friend, two other ladies and my watch were all out on the dance floor shaking what they have for all that it was worth. She had given me an gentle elbow and a grin to let me know that she had busted me on my interest in the next romance seated at the other end of the bar.

As she was glancing at me with mirror in hand, I proceeded to get out an imaginary mirror and cupped it in my hand. As I was poking at my lips and eyes she caught sight of what I was doing. As she reacted she bumped her friend who spun around and elbowed a drink off the bar onto Anthracite Eyes. Feisty Little Blonde Bartender saw my mirror primping, Anthracite Eyes reaction, the spin of the friend and the elbowed drink. As the next domino to fall, coffee sprayed out of her nose and through her teeth. Everyone in the world seemed to be laughing at that moment and I was in heaven, I love a party. Everyone was laughing, except Young Male Bartender with Glasses who seemingly had absorbed every drop of sprayed hot coffee in his hair and his prized new T-shirt. Due the sick nature of humans, this only made the situation funnier. It took close to a minute but finally even YMBwG was laughing.

By the time YMBwG returned wearing a nylon jacket and no shirt underneath and his prized T-shirt was washed in the sink by Feisty Little Blonde Bartender, Anthracite Eyes was by my side. Her elbowed-tequila soaked lowcut blouse seemed to accentuate the perfection of her face. Twenty minutes later we climbed the stairs to the outside world and left my Kmart watch and the throbbing dance music behind. I felt like a gold miner who had just tripped over a nugget the size of a brickbat.

When Anthracite Eyes left my hotel room at 11:30 AM I was 8 hours older, $70 poorer, and two pops happier. She was as talented and charming as she was beautiful. CFK and RT were not pulling my leg about Lima. All is well.


PS: Pray for my recovey from the affliction of run-on sentences and worthless details.

Bliss,

although old and somewhat used, my watch did not come from K-mart....in fact I can tell by Mickey's big hand it's time for me to be somehwere!
Although you cut a wide swath in Lima last trip, just wait until we go together! It should be on a parallel with that Sherman guy marching to some lake in your neck of the woods.........
CFK

Bliss, Nice report. You being a Rio vet, I would like to hear your thoughts on how lima compares to Rio, chicas vs goratas.

Dallas,

I don't know how Bliss will vote, but as a Rio vet I still maintain there is NO PLACE like Rio and Brasil for women; selection, quality, wild unhibited sex, etc. Having said that, Lima is a close second!
As everyone knows, every destination has something different to offer, Lima has hot women, just not as plentiful as Rio, Lima has nice beaches, just not as convenient as Rio, etc.....I will say at a 3:1 dollar ratio Lima has an advantage over Brasil, plus the low crime is certainly appreciated. Peru has 92 of the World's eco systems, so when not mongering there are some excellent "other" things to do and visit. Well, I'll let Bliss jump in here with his take on Lima/Peru......
CFK

CFK, AA has flights from Miami to Lima right now for $269...

When did you say you were thinking of going back?

Jonesie,

prob 5mar-12 or 14Mar.......ck your PM messages

Copperfield, the mickey watch seems to a perfect accessory for you. But try to wear it right-side-up occasionally, ok?

And, believe it not, I have two other watches but they never seem to make the trips down south. My "nice" watches seem so drab and I have such a dapper image to uphold. Back to the home of the bluelight special before catching the next plane.

And on my "march through lima" I plan to leave nothing happy ladies in my wake, unlike the sadness and ruin that ole what's his face left in the cradle of culture where I live. Who's the better man?

Jonesie, that is a great flight deal. Sadly, getting to Miami from my market nearly doubles the time it takes to get to Peru. But for guys in Miami or good service to Miami it is a steal. Thanks for sharing,

Dallas, it is simply hard for me straight up compare Lima and Rio, they are apples and oranges. But I have been in Rio many times and Lima is a new experience. Similar to CFK, I feel that Rio cannot be matched as far as sheer numbers of venues and off the chart sex availability. But it has its downside too.

I cannot imagine not going to Rio regularly, it has become part of the rest of my life, it seems. But right now, at least, I cannot imagine not making Peru a regular stop also.

For guys whose singular focus in Rio is the Termas I do not think would find Lima overly appealing. Guys who typically do a 3-5 minute interview that primarily covers price and actions promised, well, there are certainly venues like that but that is not the gold in Lima IMCO.

I am crazy about rio and the ladies who make it magic. It is easily the most beatiful setting for a city in my opinion. There is unlimited excitement in rio, that is part of the good and the not so good. After many visits to rio I still seldom let my hazard sensors drop below the "extreme vigilance" settings.

In Miraflores I walked several blocks to my hotel late at night and felt good about it. I walked in the main tourist areas for hours without beggars infringing on my peace. I enjoyed several very passionate women including 2 nonpros and I was not even looking for nonpro companionship.

There was one 22 year old Liman who would have been a standout anywhere. And the wanton power with which she threw herself into sex shook the barnacles off my jaded old self. After she left, I had to check myself out to make sure I was ok, sorta like one would after a motorcyle accident. Found out I was ok, just in shock.

This is probably much more than you wanted to read and not near as clear a comparison as you wanted. But if I continue to write about my recent trip perhaps it will give you more info.

Thanks for reading my post.

CFK, I think it is time to say some really bad stuff about Lima. Otherwise we are going to have trouble getting hotel reservations down there. What do you think?

Get Jag to visit Lima, that should be enough of a deterrent. LOL

Bliss,

I agree; Lima Sucks! [and Jag should never be allowed in there]
That ought to do it..........

CFK

Er... how was the rest of the trip?

PART 3: Daylight, and is this for real?

I stepped into the hotel lobby blinking as one would exiting a movie theatre in the daytime. Lima. I left my key at the desk and received a pleasant greeting from the lovely desk clerk. I made the few steps to Larco and headed toward Kennedy Park. What a saw was a bustling modern city neighborhood that was scrupulously clean.

As I passed the Cathedral Kennedy Park came into view and I was struck by the manicured flower beds and the pristine appearance of everything in the park. There was an art show going on throughout this weekend and New Year's day. I viewed some of the art and struck up conversation with a two of the artists. One was a striking 40ish woman who painted landscapes. After a bit she said she would like to paint me. (I looked her up and down and thought silently "I would like to 'paint' you also, spraypaint you".
I asked her why since she had no portraits among her exhibits. She paused and then said that I had a (pause) 'interesting' face. There have been worse adjectives to describe me so I was good with that. She made it clear that she was not wanting to paint me so that I could buy the painting. I let her know that I certainly did not want to pay for a painting of me. Viewing myself in the mirror to shave each morning was as much self examination as I need. I told her that perhaps later in my visit I would 'sit' for her. Even though she was fortyish I felt like asking her if she would consider 'lying down' for me. But this was Lima, not USA, and word was there were plenty of fish in this sea. I was hungry enough to eat my shoes so I moved on.

Pizza Alley was nearby and I made a beeline for it. Pizza Alley is a short little pedestrian street that runs perpendicular to the park and it was aptly named. It was door to door sidewalk style restaurants and they all seemed to have a Pizza theme although most also had peruvian and international cuisine. Each of the restaurant has a person inviting you to their place, sometimes pleadingly. I picked one with a nice menu and lovely waitresses.

She delivered a menu and a smile that curled my toes. Dark eyes, dark hair, facial features that looked somewhat asian and with a perky little butt that smiled through her tight black pants. I remember thinkng, "I like Lima."

It was a little past the lunch peak and we conversed a bit. She asked where I was from and I told her. (I guess I do not look Peruvian and my spanish, while serviceable, certainly is distinguishable from a local's speach). "USA? Do you work in Peru? No? Then why are you here and why do you speak spanish?" I was asked this many times during my stay. I suppose there are not that many tourists from the USA and most apparently speak no spanish."Why am I here and why do you I speak spanish? To speak with the waitress with the most beautiful smile in South America!"

Her response was a full-on, mouth-covered blush. She lit up like a brakelight. Don't get me wrong, it is not like Brad Pitt was seated at her table. But she acted so stunned to hear such a lame line from an hefty, aging gringo. She was clearly pleased with the compliment and somewhat embarrassed by her own reaction. It was the first real clue to what I found to be true: This place is full of hot and lonely women hungry for a little bit of attention. I made a pledge to myself to resolve this social inequity one woman (or two) at a time. Any man with anything resembling a social concience would do the same.

Soon the other three waitresses made swings past my table and each flashed a smile. Hmmmmmm. You don't suppose she busted me on my line back in the kitchen do you? Before I left I was introduced to not only the waitresses but also the chef. Friendly sort of place.

I enjoyed a wonderful cervece and salad loaded with hearts of palm and olives. Wonderful meal seasoned with intermittent conversation with that smile. Before I left I had promised to return and had been asked how many days will I remain in Lima, asked three times. Being the sweet man that I am, I told the truth all three times.

I walked away from lunch full of good food, smile on my face and not quite touching the ground as I walked toward the Park.

As I approached the busy street I heard a voice shouting locations at the top of his lungs, and urgency that sounded like cries for help until I realize it was the bus hawker shouting the neighborhoods that the school bus style bus was headed toward. I quickened the pace to catch up to it as it stopped at the end of the block. I stepped in line and onto the bus and away we bounced out through the afternoon, a bus loaded with Peruvian families in a holiday mood.

As foolhard as this seems to many people I have done this in many cities especially on the first visit. I have yet to have a problem while touring the city this way. It is also a good way to get a feel for the real people there, eavesdrop a bit, hear their concerns, their joys, their plans for the evening and the four children who clapped and sang all the way to their stop. I saw shiny, new, and amazing places and places that were very modest. It was about 90 minutes before the bus returned to Parque Kennedy and it was time well spent. I am happier and richer for the experience.

I walked the streets of Miraflores the rest of that afternoon, spotting many of the locations that CFK and RT have written about. I felt very free, relaxed and was drinking it all in.

I stopped to get my shoes shined by a friend of CFK in Parque Kennedy. Later I just sat on park bench in the breeze using farts as punctuation to my thoughts. This is one of my favorite things to do. It is freedom.

To be continued. Next: I must look in the mirror, something much have changed.

Bliss,
nice report, definitly provides the reader with a sense of the laid back attitude/atmosphere, and friendlyness one experiences/enjoys in Peru. The fact of the matter is, it's the norm, not the exception. My shoe shine guy is quite interesting and certainly good at his trade.

Bliss, great report. Cant wait to hear the rest. I will be in Lima May 19 to June 1. I am going to read all of the reports first before I start with the stupid ass questions. It will be hard, but thats the goal. AZ

PS ok, I cant help myself, how good is your spanish?

Azguy, thank you for reading the report. I hope to write more as soon as I think more people can stomache it.
My spanish is not great but is conversational. I have a fairly large vocabulary but my grammar is often poor. I learned spanish as spoken in Central America and there are pronounciation differences in Peru. But I was able to communicate effectively.

I was surprised, however, at the number of people in Lima who speak some english and they are usually eager to speak it with someone fluent (or in my case, someone who approaches fluency in english).

I enjoyed visiting Lima and will be going back in a few days.

Azguy, you will be in Lima on May 19? That overlaps with Isawal by a couple of days. I'm still thinking about stopping in on my way back from Rio.

If you go, let me know. Looks like I will be in Lima on the weekends and to Cuzco and Machu Picchu during my second week there, then back on the weekend to Lima. I will be down with Whitty anyone that is around let either of us know. AZ

PS do you live in Arizona?

Yes, about 60 miles NW of you. I think we've meet back in Nogi's hey day. I use to hang with Mr. Bill or Nogi Boy.

Azguy,

Bliss is being shy about his linguistic abilities.
However, hand signals and a smile will do nicely in Lima, Buenos nachos............

yeah, well, ok CFK. My spanish is passable and I can speak a little portugese. Now if can just get a handle on English...

Bliss: WTF are you rip van winkle?

No, LL, I am not Rip Van Winkle. I am a bit like the butcher who sat on his meatgrinder and got behind in his work. I am just a bit late on some correspondence and trying to catch up.

Bliss,

although I give you high marks for your linguistic skills, your response times are remiss! Please try and keep it in the SAME calendar year. Hemp may not live long enough to read some of them!