My lunch at Govinda's

The other day in Spanish class the profesora initiated a discussion of the merits vegetarian vs. carnivorous diets, which turned out to be quite apropos since the class consisted of a vegetarian, a vegan, and two omnivores. This led on to us airing our beefs (as it were) about the Peruvian diet (too much rice and potatoes, not enough vegetables and protein, overly large lunches--and, though we didn't discuss this, not enough fibre). The previous week I made a concerted effort to consume protein after noticing that my leg muscles had been aching for several days without any exertion to account for it. Seems to have helped.

The above is by way saying that I was motivated to accept an invitation from Rebekka, the vegan among our group, to have lunch at Govinda Lila's, a vegetarian restaurant in Cusco. It's just a tiny place, with three 6-seater tables, a kitchen the size of a small bathroom, and, as far as I can tell, no bathroom. There's no menu, just the menú, that is, the set lunch consisting of soup, a main dish, and tea. I think you can choose to have just the soup or just the main. It's kind of a fusion of Peruvian and Indian food.


When we got there we met Laura, a Colombian friend of Rebekka's. Shortly thereafter an American couple, Chris and Hailey, joined us, and it came out that Laura and Hailey had done an ayahuasca healing ceremony the night before. Ayahuasca is a combination of plant materials which are psychoactive when taken together, but have no effect otherwise. So, some heavy drugs, man. Laura described the effects as hallucinations about things in your life that are causing you to be 'blocked', thereby helping you get through them. (I'm just reporting what I was told.) You sweat a lot and are tired afterward. The concoction is administered under the supervision of a shaman and three assistants.

Ok, on to the food. I'm not sure what the soup was but it tasted like it was full of veggie goodness. The main consisted of kidney beans, lightly-curried rice, and some kind of potato patty. So, in a way, it followed the Peruvian pattern of two starches plus some kind of protein. I was happy with it since I hadn't eaten any legumes in a while. You get all this for four soles, or about $1.40.

Just as we were finishing one of the typical Cusco downpours started--it had been sunny up until then. The restauarant was just about full so we weren't sure whether to stay and wait out the rain (which could take some time in Cusco) or leave so as to free up the table for more customers. After a while we got up to go but Lila, the proprietor, told us to stay because it was raining too hard. Eventually it tapered down to a drizzle and we left.

A couple of days later Rebekka and I went there again (I think she goes most days) and found the same crew as before. This time we were served pumpkin soup, with the main consisting of stir-fried veggies, some kind of grain that looked like a cross between rice and bulgur, and tarwi. Tarwi is the seed of a species of lupin. It's quite high in protein. When prepared it looks something like hummus but is fairly mild tasting.

Guinea pig: if it's good enough for Jesus it's good enough for me

Perhaps what separates the men from the boys, the tourists from the travellers in Peru is whether or not you try cuy. That's guinea pig to you. Yes, they eat pets here. Well, not really, since they don't normally keep those critters as pets. Probably not as often as Canadians keep rabbits (or eat them), just for comparison. And unlike kissing the cod in Newfoundland, eating cuy is a real tradition, going back hundreds of years, if not longer.

Maybe you're wondering what this has to do with Jesus. Here he is eating guinea pig:

When the Spanish came to Peru and converted the Inca, they tried to relate Catholic beliefs to native ones. Hence the Last Supper featuring cuy. I've seen at least three versions of that theme. In a similar vein, the Virgin Mary was often painted as wearing a dress that looked like a mountain, since the Inca regarded mountains as deities (and their descendants still do, right alongside Christianity). When I posted this picture on Facebook, a lively debate ensued in which some of my Jewish friends wondered if guinea pig was kosher. It turns out that it isn't (they aren´t pigs, but they are ¨crawling creatures¨), so Jesus probably wouldn't have eaten it anyway--but why let that get in the way of a good conversion attempt?

Anyway, last week I decided that enough was enough and that I was going to get over my squeamishness. It probably helped that I never had a guinea pig as a pet. My friend Aydee, a young Peruvian woman who works at the hotel I stayed at for a few days, suggested going to the nearby town of Tipon, which is known for cuy. It's about a 30 minute ride from Cusco. When you get off the bus there is a long line of cuy restaurants along the side of the road. Somewhat insistent ladies from each place come out to tout for their particular establishment, but we told them we were going to look around. At one place we looked in at the cuy seems to be burnt so we carried on. Finally we found one that looked ok and where the piggies were a more golden colour.
We ordered one between us which may not seem like much meat, but hey, I didn't know if I would be able to eat even half. The first thing they bring you is a little appetizer made from the guts:

We asked the waiter to bring the main dish whole so that I could take a picture.

Want a close-up of that reproachful look?

The cuy came with potatoes, noodles, and stuffed pepper. The green things hanging out of it aren´t innards, they´re some kind of herbs. We ordered Inca Cola to wash it down: Coca Cola´s competition in Peru--looks like pee, tastes like bubble gum (or maybe cream soda).

After I took the picture the waiter took it back and cut it into five pieces--two hindquarters, two forequarters, plus the head. I gratefully conceded the head to my dining companion. Anyway, I screwed up my courage and tucked in. Well, it doesn't taste like chicken exactly. It's somewhere between chicken and pork I guess. Kind of greasy. You're supposed to eat the skin (fur has been removed) but I found that kind of chewy so I didn't eat it all. In summary I'd have to say that it's palatable but I probably wouldn't order it again (unless friends come and want to try it, of course!)

I'm all right

(Updated...)

Apparently some people have been enquiring as to my well-being since I haven't posted here for some time. Thanks for asking. I'm all right!

This trip has been a bit different from the last one since I've been staying in one place longer and not having an adventure every day, hence less to write about. Right now I'm in Cusco and in my second week of Spanishing school.

Cusco is in the sierra at an altitude of about 3300 metres, and hence is now in the rainy season. I knew that before I came here, and checked the climate chart on Wikipedia which said there would be about 13 rainy days in February--I figured that was no worse than St. John´s in certain months. Well, blame global warming or what have you, but I think it´s rained every day since I´ve been here. The rain is usually off and on--if it would rain for a couple of hours and get it over with that would be better. When it rains it tends to be chilly too--at this altitude no sun means no warmth, and of course buildings don´t have heating--though there are some gas heaters at the school. If you think I´m complaining unduly, well the locals are doing it too.

There are a lot of Spanish schools in Cusco: I chose this one, Amauta, because it appeared to be a little bit more social than the others and had a number of extracurricular activities (for example, films! -- something I've been starving for). They also organize volunteer activities but they all seem to involve working with kids, which is not really my thing. No offence to kids (or people with kids) -- I just know my comfort zones.

I'm in a group of five students (all chicas except for me): one American, one Dutch, one Swedish, and one Australian. There is a preponderance of Dutch and German students in the school as a whole. 20 hours of classes costs about $120. I find it hard to guage my progress, but I guess every bit helps.

While studying I've been staying with a Peruvian family for extra language immersion; the food is generally pretty good too and the arrangement is a little cheaper ($112 a week) than staying at a hotel. The meals follow the standard Peruvian pattern: breakfast, a big lunch at around 1.30--consisting of soup, a main dish, and a small dessert such as jelly or fruit. In between the soup and the main dish there might be corn on the cob (choclo). I´m generally stuffed by the time I´m finished. I´ve discovered that it´s not just Peruvian restaurant meals that are heavy on the starch--it applies to home cooking too. I´m not sure this is good for me--on the other hand, Peru has far fewer overweight people than Canada.

The bus that I take from home to school and back is called Liebre (hare) but it doesn´t seem to be any faster than other bus. As far as I know there´s no Tortuga line, but there is one called El Dorado that my ladylady said is full of thieves! The ride costs 0.60 soles or about 21 cents.

Tambo (Provincia de La Mar, Region de Ayacucho)

The other day I went to the town of Tambo, about 70 km from Ayacucho. It wasn't in any of my guide books, but my friend Steve hung out there sometimes when he lived in Peru in the 70s, and suggested that I check it out. I think there was something about a frisky English nurse too.

As usual, the first step was to find a colectivo. I went to where they all hang out and was approached by a tout. I don't know who he worked for, possibly just himself, because when I said I wanted to go to Tambo, he took me around to various colectivos to see if they wanted a passenger going that way. The first few didn't, but eventually he found me a ride in the right direction. I don't think the guy with the vehicle was actually in the colectivo business per se--I think was just a guy from Tambo who was going that way and figured he'd make a few soles for his trouble. For one thing, he was driving a nice SUV, which isn't the norm (rattly 15-seat vans). After he rounded up three more people we were on our way. Being in a good vehicle was somewhat comforting as we ascended a winding, narrow, occasionally washed-out mountain road in the rain and fog. And Peruvian drivers have a habit of passing on curves. Of course, the roads often consist of nothing but curves...

We got in Tambo and hour and a half later, which the driver boasted was a hour faster than the colectivos would take. I got dumped off at the first hospedaje (hotel) we passed, where I got a room for 20 soles ($7) that wasn't worth a penny more. Here is on of the famous electric showers that you sometimes find in Latin America. I didn't use it, not out of fear of electrocution, but because I thought spending too much time in that bathroom might make me dirtier rather than cleaner.



It was pouring rain by this time but I figured I might as well have a look around. There was a scraggly outdoor market, the highlight of which was a little booth run by a young guy selling music DVDs--which the prospective customer and anyone else walking by got to preview. Here is a typical stall:


After that I took a little walk down the street:


Some street, huh. Not all the roads were like that, but many were pretty rough. Here are some typical houses.


In Peruvian Spanish you'd call these humilde--humble, or just plain poor. Life in the mountains of Peru has to be judged by different standards than in Canada, but when you live in a mud-brick house with no windows and a dirt floor, I don't see how you can be living very high on the human development scale. Despite several trips to Latin America, this was probably the first time I really came face to face with rural poverty. Not dying-in-the-streets poverty, but poverty nonetheless. I didn't come here to be a "poverty tourist" by any means, but since it exists, I might as well have seen it.

Tambo is largely a Quechua town. I seemed to be the only gringo around, that day at least, which provoked some curiosity. I expect there aren't many tourists who come that way. I didn't see any frisky English nurses either. I felt slightly uncomfortable, since at the best of times I try to pass under the radar, but I wouldn't say there was any hostility shown toward me. I tried to be polite and say buenas tardes to everyone. One older woman replied Hola señor gringo in a not-unfriendly way.

I don't want to paint the places as all grim. The physical setting is lovely:






There was entertainment too, in the main square:



The game started around 4pm and when I wandered by at around 6 it was still going on, but with some changes of personnel. They were pretty good too--being taller would have helped though.

Staying out of the rain

Constant Readers: I know I haven't given you much to keep coming back lately. For a few days I was just kind of holed up in Ayacucho, being indecisive about where to go next. Now I have a bit of a plan: return to Lima for a couple of days, then head to Cusco, and hopefully some Spanish classes.

Right now I'm on the balcony of a wifi-enabled restaurant overlooking the Plaza de Armas in Ayacucho. It's the Via Via Cafe, a branch of a Belgian outfit that has hostels/restauarants on various far-flung parts of the world, nine or ten in all. I don't know what their business model is--they don't just pick tourist traps (Ayacucho certainly isn't, nor is Leon, Nicaragua). The manager here is a Belgian but the rest of the staff seem to be Peruvian and they serve Peruvian food that seems more or less authentic to my uneducated palate. And I'm fairly confident that they won't poison me. There is an annoying tendency to play Western pop music in the background, and not always the good stuff either (think: Village People) but for the moment at least they're playing Peruvian stuff, and folkloric at that.

The other good thing about being here is that it keeps me out of the rain. The sierra rainy season, which only flirted with us for the first week I was here, seems to be in earnest. And, since I'm leaving today, I don't have a hotel to go back to. Hopefully I tipped the staff enough the last time I was here that they won't get antsy about me taking up valuable space; well, the balcony has at least one empty table so I'm not actually driving anyone away.

Odds and sods

Little yellow taxi

I saw a few of these vehicles, known as moto-taxis, in Lima, mainly in treas without heavy traffic (which excludes most of Lima!) but here in Ayacucho and surroundings they're ubiquitous. They can carry three passengers (though I wouldn't swear that some don't carry more) in back and the driver in front. I wondered where they were manufactured--I guessed somewhere in Asia--so I asked one driver: I was right, they come from India and Indonesia.


Who you callin' joven?

Peruvians like to call any male who looks younger than they are joven (young person), and that includes me, and I'm 49. I didn't quite get this at first, but apparently it's normal and not insulting. I guess it's not too different from my peeps--Newfoundlanders--calling each other "b'y" regardless of age. I don't know if I could adopt the usage myself without sounding (or at least feeling) condescending, even in regard to someone who actually is young.

Colonel Bogey visits Peru

Several mornings since coming to Ayacucho while lying in bed I heard someone playing an organ version of the Colonel Bogey March fairly loudly close to my hotel. No idea what that was about. Yesterday morning as I was having breakfast at a restaurant with a balcony overlooking the Plaza de Armas the mystery was solved--it was the garbage truck! Each time it moved they played their theme song. Huh. Now this morning I had breakfast at the same place and noticed that the song had changed to something more Peruvian.

The first cup

A few weeks ago in a Starbucks in Toronto I saw a barista not understand (or pretend not to understand) when a customer asked for a "double-double". I was going to translate but the customer walked away. Anyway I could have used a translator myself at a Starbucks in Lima. I thought I was doing it right by asking for an alto descafeinado (tall decaf) but then they started asking me if I wanted a latte, cappucino, etc. Eventually I realized that what they call americano (and we just call coffee) is not the default and has to be specified. Another difference is that you don't have five choices of milk to pour into your coffee. You have zero choices. If you want milk, you have to ask the barista to add it for you. In fact, almost anywhere you order coffee, you have to ask for milk explicitly or none will appear.

The second cup

Further on the coffee theme, coffee (that is, americano coffee) in Peru is either instantaneo (Nescafe) or pasado (made from grounds). I'm not sure why the latter is called pasado unless it means that water has passed through it. In any case, too often for a coffee-producing country, what you get is instant. Here in Ayacucho, where coffee is actually grown, you have a decent chance of being able to order a pasado, and boy is it yummy! One difference from home though--sometimes you get a cup of hot water and a jug containing very concentrated coffee, which you have to pour into the water. It doesn't seem to make any difference to the taste, and it lets you decide how strong you want your coffee.

Tuna, not like the fish

Twenty kilometers or so outside Ayacucho are the ruins left by the Wari (or Huari) civilization, a pre-Inca culture that was dominant in Western Peru around AD 500-900 but went into decline even before the Inca came on the scene.

To get there you take a colectivo (shared minibus). You don't go to a bus station at a particular time to take a colectivo. You go to a paradero (stop) which is just an unofficial location from which colectivos to a particular location depart. it's not marked, but the map I got at the tourist office indicated where to go. A colectivo leaves when it's full (or as full as the driver thinks it's going to get on this trip). Toward this end, he stands around and acts as a tout for his bus. Full is a relative term. Basically they stuff as many people as can uncomfortably fit--if you're a kid, expect to sit on your parent's lap. No doubt they exceed the bounds of safety, at least by North American standards. On the up side (and this applies to me too), Peruvians are generally not large, tall people. The view from inside:


The colectivos to Wari are actually going to the town of Quinua, and even if you're just being dropped off at Wari you have to pay the full fare to Quinua (from the driver's point of view, he could have filled your seat with a full-paying customer. The fare is 5 soles ($1.80) so that didn't break the bank, but is not especially cheap by Peruvian standards.

The site has a small museum and a friendly attendant, but after that you're on your own (there was a guy hanging around offering to work as a guide, but I declined). I don't really mind that much if I don't know all the history behind a site: I sort of think of them as large-scale art installations.

In any case, what really got my attention wasn't the ruins but the cactus "forest" in which they were embedded. Most of them were prickly-pears. The fruit of this cactus is known as tuna in Spanish (what we call tuna is atun and an olive is an aceituna, in case you were wondering). These are edible, though I've never tried them, and I'm told they need to be eaten carefully. On the highway outside the site a family was selling them and cars would stop to pick some up. I even saw a couple of women harvesting them inside the site itself, using what looked like very long-handled garden shears.



Here's another tuna for you: a political party seems to have adopted it as its logo. Perhaps not an inspired choice.


The site is fairly large with well-maintained paths that are marked with the occasional arrow, so I mostly just wandered. We came here to see ruins, so here's some:



That's fine. I just didn't want to miss anything in the cactus line, so I tried following down all the forks in the path, not all of which really led anywhere. One sign promised a cueva (cave) but I walked to the end of the line and just ended up in a field, sown with some crop that I didn't recognize (I'll guess potatoes since Peru is said to have 4000 varieties).

The other thing that the site has lots of is locusts. They're fairly skittish and jump out in front of you as you walk along. I ran across one guy catching them and stuffing them into a large pop bottle. I hadn't heard of locusts being eaten in these parts so I asked him what he was catching them for. It turns out that they are eaten--by chickens.


I finished up at the ruins at about 3 or so and was going to continue on to Quinua. The trick is having a collectivo come along that isn't already full. A bit of a challenge on a Sunday, as it turns out. After waiting half an hour or so I saw that was on the way back to Ayacucho stop and let off a couple of people, so I decided to give up on Quinua for that day. The ride back cost only 3 soles...I guess in that situation a paying customer represents the difference between 0 and 3 soles not 3 and 5 soles.

What is a job?

I'm not a Latin America expert by any means, but this is the eighth country in the region that I've visited and one thing that's struck me over and over is that despite all of these countries being considerably worse off economically than Canada, I hardly ever see people begging for money on the street. And those that do are almost always old, disabled, or young mothers with children. This is in direct contrast to Toronto, where panhandling is quite common.

One reason that I've always felt is at least partly responsible for this is the existence of the informal economy. Live in Peru and don't have a job? Then you might have a kiosk on the street selling chocolate bars and other snacks. Or a stand selling cheap watches and TV remotes. If you can't afford a kiosk or stand, you might carry candies around on a tray. If you don't have a tray, carry what you can in your hands.



Would this work in Canada? Should it? I'm not suggesting "put the bums to work" a la Mike Harris: I'm just wondering if people who had some kind of job would feel better about themselves than those who just asked for money. I expect that regulation and taxes would bog it down. I don't know how far outside the tax system workers of this sort are here in Peru. People who have kiosks have to pay the city a fee for the space, but I don't know if they pay taxes otherwise.

The Gamarra district in Lima that I wrote about earlier is a step up from the sort of "workplaces" that I referred to above, but it's still an example of how mini-businesses can work. We think of a store as being of a certain size, but why couldn't it be the size of a walk-in closet?

Discuss!

Gamarra or Gomorrah?

I was taken to a most fascinating part of Lima yesterday, called Gamarra. It's almost a city within a city, except that no-one lives there. It consists of at least 70 city blocks in which almost the sole business is the selling (mostly) and manufacture of clothing and other textiles. This is just one part of one street.


Here's a map of the zone:


There are some parts not marked on the map, so the 70 blocks I counted is probably an underestimate.

A typical "storefront" might look like this:


When you get inside, there's a maze of maybe a couple of hundred locales, small shops, usually staffed by a single person, many no bigger than a walk-in closet.


(These are actually a bit on the large side.)

Gamarra has the reputation for being a bit dodgy, but also as a place where you can find any kind of clothing that you want, at decent quality and at reasonable prices. Because of its size, it's a huge economic generator for the city of Lima.

Just taking the bus

If you've travelled in the developing world, nothing here will be a surprise, but if you haven't, here's how taking the bus in Lima is different from at home.

First, instead of a single bus company run by the city, there is a multiplicity of private companies. There are sometimes markings of where buses are going to stop, but it can also also be a matter of just knowing where to go. The buses come in different sizes and are usually a bit garishly decorated.



There are two employees on most buses, a driver and a conductor. The conductor has two jobs: to take your money and to act as a tout, since his bus is competing for your bum with other companies' buses. So when the bus stops, the conductor hops off (sometimes dodging other buses) and shouts out the main destinations, at least I guess that's what he's saying, since it kind of becomes a slurred chant.

So yesterday I wanted to go to the Lima suburb of Miraflores, so when the guy shouted "Miraflores", I knew he was my man. Unlike at home, you don't pay immediately as you get on, you just find a place and eventually the conductor will come looking for your fare. Some seem better than others at remembering who has paid already. When you pay you get a little wisp of a ticket, which it may or may not be important to hold on to. I saw one petulant woman just throw hers on the floor.

You pay by distance, though I haven't figured out that system yet, and I don't know if all companies charge the same...likely yes. In any case, to us the fare would seem quite cheap...my 45 minute ride to Miraflores cost 1.20 soles or around 45 cents.

The other thing is, there's a bit of Alice in Wonderland going on because the names of streets are not always what they're called. The other day I my friend told me to meet her at Arequipa and Cuba (and to ask the conductor to call out "Cuba"), which he did, and a good thing too, because the street sign said Avenida Alejandro something.

Peruvian buffet

My friend took me to a Peruvian buffet the other day...here are some of the dishes.



I had eaten part of this one before I thought of taking a picture. Here's what's left: rolled up thing in upper left is a tequeño (like a fried wonton containing ham); red thing is rocoto relleno (red pepper stuffed with meat, raisins, cheese, and something really hot that gave me the hiccups); in the middle antecuchos (beef heart).



Clockwise from upper left: aji de pollo, arroz con pollo (rice with chicken), frejol (beans), cau cau (a stew made with tripe--fortunately not too much); and camote (a kind of tuber).


This one was my friend's--I didn't eat all of these myself. Some duplications here. Clockwise from top left: chamfaina, aji de pollo, arroz con pollo, and cau cau.



Here are some desserts. The orange one is flan, the purplish one I don't know the specific name of, but it's made from blue corn. There was also arroz con leche (rice with milk).

How not to strike a false note in Peru

I´ve noticed that it´s almost de rigeur for merchants in Peru to scrutinize any bill you give them to check if it´s counterfeit or not (so far I haven´t had the bad luck to be stuck with a nota falsa). But I didn´t know what clues they were looking for. Today I went to the currency museum and was shown a video on how to spot fake bills. The very existence of this video (which I watched with several dozen kids on a school tour) is somewhat striking. For the Canadian or other western government to make such an admission about the debasement of its currency would be a severe loss of face, or worse. But I guess here they have to deal with the situation as it is, hence the public education.

So here´s a primer on spotting counterfeits:

• The number 10 on the right side of the bill should change in colour from purpole to green as you tilt it away from you.
• Hard to see in this picture, but if you hold the bill up to the light you should see an embedded vertical strip (the locations vary slightly, but it will intersect the word RESERVA)
• The hologram to the right of DIEZ NUEVO SOLES should display the number 10 when tilted the right way
• The watermark underneath BANCO CENTRAL should look like the main picture )a bit subtle)
• If you´re experienced enough, you can tell by the quality of the paper (or so they claim)

Surprisingly, there are also counterfeit coins in circulation.

The Hustler

Didn´t do too much yesterday, just tried to get over the shock of realizing that I´m going to be away for 6 months...some would call it homesickness. Feels better today. I still can´t connect to the wifi at my hotel with my netbook, but for some reason I now can with the Kindle, so I can download the Globe and Mail and keep up on events. I haven´t looked for new digs though...I can get by with internet cafes I guess. There´s one that´s adjacent to the hotel even. And now that I´ve gotten them to bring me my juice at breakfast without banana added, things are truly looking up!

Yesterday I was sitting on the steps of the Convento San Francisco...known for its catacombs...when this young dude came over to talk to me. I´ve been around long enough to know that when strangers...particularly young men...are overly friendly there is usually some fiddle that they´re trying to play, usually involving one´s money. This is too bad because if someone is genuinely friendly you assume the worst of them too. Anyway this guy made out like he wanted to be some kind of tour guide, asking me what I liked about Lima, etc. Asked me if I had a girlfriend, and said I should try a Peruvian girl...perhaps this was a veiled attempt to act as procurer. Anyway when I finally got tired of this and got up to go to see the catacombs he asked if I wanted some cocaine. I think they guy was just an all round hustler...what´s called a jinotero in some countries.

If my punctuation seems a bit off in this posting, it´s because I´m using an English keyboard that has been configured to produce Spanish characters, so some of the regular keys aren´t doing what you´d expect...no brackets, dashes, colons for me today.

Peru, like the country

Well, I'm back in South America, in Lima, Peru. I arrived last night at around 11.

So I went through Immigration and asked the agent for an 183-day stamp. He asked me what I was going to do for six months and when I said "vacation" he seemed to look askance at that: "30 days is a vacation", he said. Then he asked me what I did for a living and whether I intended to work here. I said "programmer" ("bum¨ woul be more accurate) and "no". Anyway I got my six month stamp but with a stern warning that the visa did not permit me to work and that if I were caught working I would be expelled and never allowed back in. Obviously he didn't understand my aversion to gainful employment.

Customs was uneventful. You have to press a button that displays a green or red light and if you get red your bags are checked. I got green. I suppose I could have been busted for carrying four memory cards for my camera instead of the prescribed two.

When I exited Customs the "taxi" from my hotel was waiting: in reality a young man with a van who works for the hotel. No matter, he got me there, cost 40 soles ($14). When I got there a small bait-and-switch took place: I had reserved a room with bathroom but none were available. At midnight I wasn't going to look around for better so I took it. Supposedly the room I wanted will be available today.

The hotel looks to be a big old mansion that is now a rabbit warren of hotel rooms. Charming enough, I guess. I don't know how long I'll stay there, though: I'm having trouble connecting to the internet, both on my laptop and Kindle. The laptop appears to connect and the signal strength is "Very Good" but I can't load any pages. I'm addicted enough that I don't know if I can handle it without access. Right now I'm at an internet cafe (cost 1 sol--35 cents--per hour).

The temperature is in the mid-20s...woo hoo...and even last night when I arrived it was 19--a change from those cold nights in the mountains. I think it was -10 or something when I left Toronto, and I gather from my friends' Facebook comments that it snowed again yesterday in amounts that may or may not have been a snowstorm (in Toronto, you never can tell).

Some pictures from the last trip

Here are some pictures from my last trip, posted to Facebook; you don't need to be a Facebook member to view them.

• Valparaiso
  
• Valparaiso street art
• Arequipa