Salam... er... Jose can you see?

Unfortunately, my three rolls of photos were locked in a Kodak store in Lima. Evidently, some people do not work on Sundays, and I had to return to Pisco. To be honest, I considered not returning, you know heading out into some undiscovered territory, but I did not want my colleagues to think Americans were soft... plus somebody said something about having a wine club on Sunday. Anyway, I am here in Pisco, 2005 Malbec in hand, back to see what I can do. I got back around dinner time, and everyone was heading out, so I am here on the computer... big lunch of tacu tacu. What is tacu tacu you ask? Well, it is a very popular dish in Lima made with fried rice and beans all kind of tossed together, served a few ways, but I like it with seafood. Then it is finished with some sort of gravy. Mmm! My beverage pair was chicha morada, a purple non-alcoholic beverage made from Peruvian purple corn. Very refreshing.

Yesterday was a great day. I was able to wash my laundry for the first time. The weather was sunny and perfect. I spent the afternoon in Miraflores walking along the cliff overlooking the ocean and taking photos. "Miraflores" is the perfect name for this district of Lima, because this walk along the cliff has a long garden of "flores" (flowers) which makes for a perfect stroll and some great photo ops if you, say, are into nature photography... or I guess if you have a date, but I think you all know better. Hey, so anyway, I think I got some great shots... but alas, they are in Lima (4 hours away). Later, I got really hungry, so I made my way down to sea level by taxi and found Restaurante Costa Verde. I will have to consult with my Top Twelve Favorite Restaurants in the World list, but this one is definitely knocking at the door: right on the ocean, nearly all white interior with windows all around, attentive professional service, a great view of paragliders overhead, the best Pisco Sour I have had... very nice. Ceviche was good, but I have had better. Anyway I enjoyed myself thoroughly (Sorry, Brian if this is ruining your affection for the chow hall). Ooh, they even have little flags in the foyer for you to bring to your table to represent you country, and they have servers available to speak five different languages. I picked the flag for Ethiopia just for fun, but nobody came to help me despite my pleas in Amharic for "service!", so I grabbed the red white and blue.

OK, here is my list so far...

1. Il Latini (Firenze, Italia) - no menus, plenty of wine, dine with total strangers, the best total experience.
2. La Cantinetta (Barolo, Italia) - out of this world, but simple, Piemontese cuisine. Owner Maurelio treated me like a member of the family.
3. Lucy's (San Bernardino, CA) - my start in restaurants. Good Mexican food. Friendly service.
4. Antica Bottega del Vino (Verona, Italia and NYC) - 80 wines by the glass listed on a chalkboard in the bar. Amazing selection... food was good too.
5. Harry's Bar (Venezia, Italia) - Have a REAL Bellini cocktail where it was created... oh, yeah, you're on the Grand Canal... in Venice!
6. Pasta Mia (Washington, D.C) - Chef/Owner does all the cooking. Fresh pasta. Affordable, respectable wine list. Cozy and fun.
7. Public (NoLIta, NYC) - a culinary treasure and adventure in fusion that pulls flavors from Italy, Spain, Australia, Ecuador, Asia... consistantly delicious!
8. Zaytinya (Washington, D.C.) - Greek/Lebanese/Turkish small plates, hip bar, and fascinating wines you've never had before
9. Jaleo (Washington, D.C.) - Spanish tapas and more Spanish wines than you ever knew existed. Iron Chef winner Jose Andres. Me.
10. Grimaldi's Pizzeria (Brooklyn, NYC) - No delivery, no credit cards, no slices... great pizza.
11. Jose Antonio (Lima, Peru) - Upscale traditional Peruvian cuisine that's cozy instead of pretentious. Wonderful ambiance and professional service to show you the best of Peru.
12. Lupa Osteria Romana (NYC) - Molto Mario's restaurant for the rest of us has fresh homemade delicious pastas, a lively atmosphere, and, in my experience, a much better value than Babbo.

Brilliant!

There´s nothing like traveling in a big bus of strangers watching a hijacking movie. I guess it´s different than it would be on a plane. But the Peruvians did seem to get a kick out of Wesley Snipes in the subtitled Passenger 57 yesterday. I´m thinking of bringing Speed for the next trip.

 

Yesterday, I thought of a brilliant idea: make my own special project as photojournalist for the day and finish early since I wanted to make it to Lima before dark. I am glad I got this opportunity to get a break doing what I really like to do. Unfortunately (for them), I was still signed up with my crew for a demolition job, so they were a man short. Later I stopped by to take their pictures, and there was a bit of awkwardness. I don´t feel so bad though, since the day before they sent me on concrete duty (no mixer, just me) with the barefooted bricklaying Aussies. Mixing concrete with a shovel and six wheel-barrels of sand is not fun. My photos are going to be ready later today, so I will save the findings of that endeavor for the next post.

I think it´s time for ceviche. Stay tuned...

Hey Juan, can we borrow your gringos?

OK, I am sore now.

Evidently, Señor Ay ay ay decided that as long as he had us, he would keep thinking of things for us to do. I did not see him today, but I suspect he was across the street with his neighbors drinking beers and doing the play-by-play of all the whiteys sweating in the sun turning two mounds of rubble into a front yard full of rubble. So I hurled a brick, overshooting the Big Rock Pile (oops), into the street and busted up their latrine. The little girl in the front yard cried and cried, and I then had the fortitude to press on for six more hours. We received word that the next door neighbor liked our two ditches we spent a day and a half digging so much that he wanted one for himself just like them. Well, back of the line señor, there is no passing around gringos here.

It was hotter today than it has been, so I thought it the perfect opportunity to take my lunch break in the ocean. All was right with the world.

 

Keep your comments to yourself

Well, I think every part of my body is sore. You get all sorts of bitter thoughts in this kind of environment, almost as bitter as having a section full of Spaniards at Jaleo. But, what really gets me peeved is while you are digging a 30 yard trench for Señor ¨Ay, ay, ay!¨ his neighbors across the street are hangin´out with nothing else to do but to yell out at us ¨mas rapido!¨ (¨faster¨) and laugh. I already work with three lazy Peruvians in DC; I really don´t need your jive talk here! I should say that the gentleman for whom we were working today was in his seventies and helped us every step of the way. So I included him in our late-afternoon Coca Cola toast, which gave us the bump we needed to finish the project. (We tossed our rubbish on the spirited neighbors´ lawns on our way out... no not really.)



I am part of a very interesting, eclectic, and amazing group of volunteers here in Pisco. Most are travelers out and about in South America for a few months, and some have come with this as their purpose. We all work from 8 to 5 every day, except Sundays, for no pay. We do get a free hostel-style place to stay and meals cooked for us. I am proud to say there are a great deal of Americans in the crew, but there are plenty of travelers from Australia, Canada, the UK, and elsewhere. So everyone speaks English, except for a few Peruvians who have joined as well. I´ll leave you with something fun I learned yesterday. Evidently the Aussies and Canadians have a wonderful term of endearment for the Brits: ¨POMs¨ (Prisoners Of her Majesty)

Pisco, not too sour

This is what I´ve been talking about. There are many types of ceviche. I think this had a mix of octopus, squid, fish, and a few other creatures. Mmmm.

Well, I am now at my featured destination - Pisco, Peru. We (it´s not uncommon for me to use ¨we¨when referring only to myself, but actually I´m with a lot of people) are south of Lima, by about four hours by bus, so basically you could ride your bike there in about an hour and a half. I thought the ride would be boring, but we got to watch (insert deep latino movie guy voice here) ¨Los Cuatro Fantastico!¨ and I lost all interest in looking out at the barren desert. The bus was large and quite modern, but I think built for little Peruvian people, so it was fairly cramped. It´s a good thing my airplane companions were not along for this ride. Oh yeah, they drop you off on the highway in Pisco, and you have to find a taxi or someone who claims to be a taxi to take you into town from there... lots of fun.

I have joined up with an organization called ¨Hands On Disaster Response¨ who has been in town since shortly after the earthquake last August. We have bunked up in what used to be a restaurant, now headquarters (damn Americans taking over everything), so of course I feel right at home since I live every other day of my life in a restaurant. However, whenever I sleep in one it is much less crowded and more food at my disposal. (Buca was great for that.) Anyway, they are involved with many different activities in Pisco and in neighboring Paracas and Ica. Today I shoveled rubble - lots and lots of large rocks, bricks, and dirt that had consumed this woman´s home. Luckily, we are about 300 yards from the ocean, so I would look out at the pier, feel the breeze, and pretend I was in Huntington Beach and not working and sweating for free. I was very bitter for the first several hours, thinking I could be in Italy right now... but no-o-o-o-o! And then I thought, ¨how strange, in the bottom half of the world the white English speaking people do all the manual labor for no disposable income while the brown people hang out all day.¨ Don´t be upset at ¨brown,¨you didn´t get upset over ¨white.¨ I will reiterate my feeling from last year´s trip that I still find it strange that on the southern part of the globe, I still haven´t fallen off yet. Anyway, my bitterness abated while walking back to base through town, and nearly every local smiled and thanked us.

In case you are keeping score, my group today consisted of 2 Brits, 2 Aussies, and 3 Americans, thank you very much.

Cabbies Just Wanna Have Fu-uhn

Outside of Washington, DC, cabbies can be a lot of fun. The guy today had a partial cage around him... hmm. If they are not playing musica latina, it´s probably from the 80s. Last night on the way to the disco, we listened to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."
"Yo amo Cindy Lauper!" says the jovial fellow.
"Por que no?" I replied. I mean who doesn´t, really. Perhaps its just so refreshing to have a break from the lovely local DC Arabic radio station´s Koran readings coupled with the edge of your seat excitement of a NYC cab ride.

If we could rewind about 48 hours, I´d like to begin on my new political issue up for debate, since the restaurant smoking ban idea took off so well (California - 1993). They weigh your baggage at the airport, right? And if it´s overweight, they charge you extra. They measure you at Disneyland for height requirements. There is a posted weight limit in all American elevators. WHY DO I HAVE TO SUFFER A 6 HOUR FLIGHT PRESSED AGAINST MY WINDOW BY [XXL] PEOPLE!?! OK, don´t get me wrong; I make my living serving food to these types. Do you know how many tapas I can sell to some 300 pound tourist? However they do always keep me running for - of all things - Diet Coke refills. Where was I going with this? Oh yeah... 26 inches; if your body width exceeds the alloted 26 inches of space designated for your personal space in an economy-class airplane seat, you need to A) buy an extra seat, B) fly business class or first class, or C) make alternate travel plans. I´ll see if my brother can take that to the Hill when I get back. For now, I´ll just write to Hillary to see if socialized travel is on the platform; then at least, I can save the money for a massage.

Rediscovering Peru

Today is a near-perfect day in Lima, Peru. I arrived late last night with an immediate shock to my confidence in that Pablo was nowhere to be found at the arrival gate at the airport. If you are not familiar with my travel habits, I tend to leave certain things to chance while preparing immensely for other situations. For instance, I have my own canned pumpkin and cranberries for my Lima Thanksgiving I plan to cook, two cell phones, and of course my waiter´s corkscrew (I won´t expose any other details, because, well that would be stupid). On the other hand, Pablo (my driver prone to 80s and 90s rock) was an integral piece off the puzzle in that I had no contact information for my gracious host family (other than him) and potentially no ride from this airport where swarms of people congregate - even at close to midnight - to offer me a ride (some legitimately, some otherwise). But, really, what is travel if not a tightrope walk? Luckily, I had stored his cell number, and we were listening to Aerosmith in no time.

The Salazars were up to greet me, and I informed them that my first full meal should include ceviche... and it certainly did. This afternoon, we went to El Villano. Driving in Lima is always an adventure - little overcrowded buses called combis whiz by looking like passengers are going to fly out at any time, the underabundance of traffic lights and signs, and today in a small street close to the restaurant, we drove by kids performing a public stoning. The victim seemed to be getting away on foot, but what upset me even more was the one boy with the machete. Luckily they had no problem with us driving through their makeshift public execution site. Ceviche sure was good!