2/15/16,
“The Capital”Lima, Peru
There are 13
countries in South America, and I surprised myself on the flight last night by
effortlessly naming 10 of them and their capitals. The 3 I could not recall were the
“Guianas”: Guyana (formerly British
Guiana), French Guiana, and Suriname (formally Dutch Guiana). I have now been visited the capitals of two
of those countries. While I am nearing
my goal of visiting every country in North America and its capital, I am
nowhere close for South America. I
intend to spend a lot of time on this continent in my 30s, as I will have run
out of North America destinations by the time I turn 30. I hope to write similar entries to this one
from Caracas and Bogota and La Paz and Montevideo and Ascuncion and Quito and
Santiago and Brasilia and whatever the capitals are of the three Guianas.
Well, that
was a first, two firsts actually. A
couple of police officers came up to me and told me I couldn’t do my writing in
front of the Congress. They suggested I
go back to the plaza by the cathedral.
As I was walking back to my spot from last night, some random guy came
up to me and started talking to me. He
soon asked I wanted to buy any weed. I
turned him down. He then asked if I
wanted to buy any cocaine. I turned him
down again. That’s never happened
before. I’ve been offered weed in
practically every island in the Caribbean, but cocaine, that was a first. Alright, so I was mentioning how I intend to
visit every capital in South America by the time I’m 40. Each time I visit this continent, my interest
is piqued, so I very much look forward to many returns. I will actually be returning this summer for
the Olympics, but I will likely not visit Brasilia, though I’m not sure what my
schedule in Rio will be.
Anyway, after I
closed last night, from this very bench, I headed across the street to what
appeared to be an all-night convenience store.
They were locked, and you had to order through a window. I was able to ascertain that they had a
chicken tortilla, which I paired with an Inca Cola, my new favorite soft drink. It was awful, but I was starving. I then made my way back to the hotel, getting
lost again, and discovering there was an all-night fast food place that would
have been a much better option. Finally,
getting a hold of my bearings, I realized just how close the hotel had been to
the plaza, maybe a two-minute walk if had gone there directly rather than
taking the long way around. I went back to the hotel and lit up one of my
favorite after-dinner cigars, a VSG. I
published my entry and then wrote my personal entry before passing out.
I woke up about 6 hours later for
breakfast. I’ve had some bad hotel
breakfasts. This was the worst. They had watermelon, croissants, ham, and
coffee, none of which looked good. I
took a cup of coffee, a croissant, and a few pieces of ham. I put it down on the table and took a sip of
coffee. It was awful. “Nope,” I said and walked away, leaving the food
untouched.
I went to the all-night fast
food place, which served breakfast and got there specialty: a ham and cheese
sandwich, fries, an egg, and coffee. The
food was decent (and cheap), and I could see the presidential palace from my
seat. I then went back to my room before
coming back to the plaza. I lit up a
Partagas and stopped at the souvenir market on the way to the plaza.
They had flag pins and keychains, which was
all I needed, even though they didn’t have any t-shirts that fit me. I then walked around the plaza and took my ceremonial
pictures before heading back to the room.
I packed and relaxed a bit before I headed back down to check out. As shitty as the hotel was, the location was
perf, so it sufficed.
I then went to the
Congress to take my ceremonial pictures there.
I found a tree planter where I sat down, in the planter, and proceeded
to write this entry. I was told I had to
leave while I was still writing my first paragraph and made my way to the
plaza, where I was accosted by the drug dealer as I mentioned. I sat down on my familiar bench, where I
continued my entry, which I will now close so that I can find a cigar shop,
where it will hopefully be air conditioned.
It is so hot that I can barely think.
When I went Egypt, I wished that I had an extra 6 hours so that I could
spend some time in the capital. Now, I
have 6 hours to kill here in the capital.
Oh, and, while I was writing, another guy came up to me and asked if I
wanted to buy any coke. The only coke I
was interest in was the Coke Zero I have been drinking. Alright, now for that cigar store.
Jorge Chavez
International Airport, Peru (LIM)
I am smoking
my 2015 Christmas Pipe for the final time abroad this season. My winter season of travel has come to an
end, and all that remains is the return journey. It has been an incredible winter season of
travel, but Machu Picchu surely makes the top three, along with the Pyramids
and the Wall. I will reflect more later
on my winter of travel, along with my general impressions of South America, but
first I need to recount the rest of time in the capital. I began the return journey about 7 hours
after I closed, and it was a long 7 hours.
As I was walking to the cigar shop, stopped at a Starbucks, a process
that took way too long, especially since they thought “plain, regular coffee”
meant “espresso with hot water.” It
turned out they had a French press, so they used that to make me regular
coffee, along with my alfajores. After
my snack, I resumed my walk to the cigar shop.
I saw some movie theatres along the way and noted a 5:15 PM showing of
Deadpool. That would give me plenty of
time for my cigar before the movie and time enough for dinner afterwards. It would be perfect timing.
I went to where the cigar store was, which
happened to be across the street from what I affectionately referred to as the
SCOTROP. My clever readers will
ascertain the meaning of my acronym for Peru’s Palace of Justice. I learned that cigar was no longer there and
that I would have to go to Miraflores, basically the Geneva of Peru, to find a
cigar shop. I went to take my ceremonial
pictures at SCOTROP, which involved having to dodge some traffic.
I was about to head to the movie theatre
after I posted my pictures when I got a message from my Antarctica friend. She asked how I had enjoyed Cusco. I explained to her the details of my schedule
and that I was actually in the capital now.
I showed her my pictures of what I called the trifecta: the Presidential
Palace, Congress, and SCOTROP. I then
told her I was thinking of seeing Deadpool.
She made it clear to me in no uncertain terms that I was not to use my
travel time to see a movie, that I was to go explore. “As you wish,” I responded, wondering if she would
catch the “Princess Bride.” No, I will
not explain that joke to my readers who have never seen the movie. I told her I’d go to Miraflores.
I got in a taxi and had him take me to the
Fumador. I would later learn that the
Casa de Fumador was want I wanted and that I had wound up at a different
Fumador. They had a nice selection of
cigars that were only slightly overpriced.
I picked out four cigars and a small bottle of pisco. I then went outside to smoke a Diplomaticos
and drink my pisco, which tasted too much like tequila for some reason, so I
could finish it. As I was finishing my
cigar, I walked towards the park, where I found a stand selling a type of Peruvian donuts called “picarones”.
I then walked to the restaurant, Saqra, a
Peruvian fusion restaurant. I ordered
their take on Peru’s national dishes, both of which are technically fusion
dishes to begin with: ceviche and lomo saltado.
I started with an Inca Kola and then a pisco sour. For dessert, I had some kind of cake flavored
with their national fruit: Lucama. I
took a taxi back to the hotel and headed back down into the basement to
change.
It was a dusty storage room, but
I supposed there would be no harm in changing in there. Once I had changed into my travelling suit, I
started to head back upstairs. I went
outside to catch a taxi and thus began the return journey, which, as is my
tradition, I will treat in its entirety tomorrow morning, along with adding in
some reflections. So, I will close on
that note, but, first, one point of order.
There are actually 12, not 13, countries in South America. French Guiana is, of course, a French
territory.
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