Favourite photos of 2012

Holiday home. Punta Ala, Mancora

Favourite Maia photo. Cafe, Arequipa

Sunset shadows, Arequipa

Mercado, Chivay

Casa de Victor Delfin, Lima

Cafe, Barranco

Lima, Parque del Amor

 Beetle

Leah in Chivay

Favourite place of the year - breakfast on our terraza in the sun

Proudest Parenting Moment - Leah Green Hero

Cultural highlight - El Senor de los Milagros

Top Taxi Drivers

Lima taxi drivers are not exactly unique: there a few cities in the world where something of the local culture is not passed on through the characteristics of the local ferrymen.

New York: foreign policy, where you are driven by whoever's country has recently had its regime changed. 

Jo'burg: violence, where you're pretty safe unless the driver takes a shot at a rival taxi company, as the majors are owned by warring gangs (that was true in 1996 anyway, I may be a little out of the loop on that one).  

Buenos Aires: victims financial crisis, where educated classes now drive cabs, listen to classical music, talk eloquently and often in English on a range of subjects, especially politics, and very very few rip you off... that is left to the officials. 

What marks Lima as unique is that you negotiate the fare before the journey, and your Peruvians are nothing if not unexpressive, making negotiating, frankly, rather unengaging. My standard negotation formula looks like this. Hope the Mathematical notation doesn't lose ya: 

Driver: X

Me: Y

Driver: X

Me: Y

Driver: X-1

Me: Y

Driver: X-1

Me: Fine. (I feel guilty, tip him back up to the price of X).

But as 2012 draws to a close, allow me to dedicate this to my favourite 5 taxi drivers of the year. Well played, mostly gentlemen (but one mad half-blind woman, with a dirty windscreen):

5. The guy who haggled backwards and won 

Me: I'm going to a place. I offer 7?

Driver: 6

Me: No, I said... eh? OK. Where are we?

Driver: 7. 7.

Me: No. You said 6. 6. Dougs 1 - Lima 0, I think to myself, proudly.  

Driver: OK.

We drive all the way across the road. He stops. And I'm at my destination, as I was the whole time.  

4. Health and Safety Guy Who Had Seatbelts And Was Going To Use Them

He had seats. He had belts. He had standards. Even though there was no way of attaching one to another, he was insistent that I wore my seat and my belt - well, more of a sash - before he drove off. Safety first.  

3. The Pushy Guy

Outside of school, we'd driven 10m and his car died. I helped him push start the car, he drove on in the middle of traffic, I had to run quite fast to catch up, to avoid being run over and to jump back into the car. It broke down again immediately and died completely. I helped push the car about a KILOMETER to the service station. HE THEN TRIED TO CHARGE ME THE FULL PRICE. Have to respect that.

2. The Horny Guy
Who saw a hot girl looking for a taxi, nearly broke his own neck doing a double take, made a rubbish excuse for why he couldn't take me any further, took my fare... then did a U-turn to look for the hot girl.

1. The guy who tried to pick me while I was half way through a run
A combination of persistence, lack of fitness/hangover, cheek and the fact that I'd stashed an emergency S/.10 in my shorts pocket... this has to be the winner.  

Casa Melgarejo, Before and After

From what I can gather from this far flung corner of the globe, over Sunday breakfast of bacon and coffee the broadsheet reading classes are faced with a tough decision with how to proceed with the day: Cupcakes or Home Improvement?

Well, it's Sunday, the kids are with Katie at the park, I don't like cupcakes and I so have time to upload a few Before & After photos of our cracking abode. Ever modest, I have revealed our Home Improvement secrets in the captions below. Enjoy!

Living room

Living room 1, Before... 

Living Room 1, After
WHAT WE DID: Removed dead animal remnants from wall, bought a chair,
somehow got Wife to agree to giant Kate Moss print. Win! 

Living Room Of Death 2, Before...  

Living Room 2, After... 
WHAT WE DID: Removed dead animals from the wall replacing death with mirror, cleaned the windows, traded grey/brown for colours. Took the 'After' photo with wide angle lens   

Mainlining In The Bedroom: Before...

Main Bedroom, After...  WHAT WE DID: opened curtains, rejected off-yellow paint, put a mattress on the bed, lamps not candles, added an '&' for no good reason, removed more obvious signs of recent heroin use. 

Terrace, Before...

Terrace, After...
WHAT WE DID: Got the pool in shot, replaced bad table with good table,
painted wall very blue, using the sun, added living Human Child.  

 Done.

Private school anecdotes

First of these for a while.

I was teaching a poem, The Cockroach, an interesting sonnet about a man recognising his own worthlessness in a cockroach exploring his flat. Setting the tone of the poem, I lazily asked a couple of kids how they reacted when they saw a cockroach... if they'd ever killed a cockroach? A couple of half-hearted responses.

I picked on Arianna, a magnificently haughty teen in the middle row.

- What about you Arianna - ever killed a cockroach?
Meeting my gaze, she replied, with some dignity - We have, like, people... to do that sort of thing.

Mancora Top 7

Right in the north of Peru, within sight of Ecuador, is Mancora - busy with tourists, mostly Peruvian or backpackers - we stayed about 3 km south on Las Pocitas, which doesn't translate to exclusive rich showy-offy beach houses, but if it did, it would be a better translation.

Met with maracuya sorbet at the house, we pretty much kicked back and relaxed for 6 days. Bubble was not even - well, only briefly - burst when at breakfast, facing us in the sister house also settled down to breakfast, was one of my GCSE students. Fortunately quite a good one, so my skinny white frame should remain free from Facebook and I won't be cyber stalked by the Biebber generation.

Here are some glimpses:

Conclusion: I could definitely winter there.

Food in Peru

You hear a lot about the food in Peru. Everyone talks about how good the food is. The food revolution, gourmet tourism... all of that. It's not as interesting as all of this.

This is what you don't hear enough about, what now amounts to almost an entire shopping trolley's worth of comedy.

Allow me to give you a tour of your standard Peruvian supermarket:

Correct. Those are Bimbo burger buns, then Wanka fruit, thenFanny tuna.
All available at Wong. That's just Wong, isn't it? 

Tea. No, not tanning oil. Just plain old, er, tea. 

Clearly inspired, the service station opposite offer the following classic combo deals. 

Kraps, anyone? Goes nicely with Bailey's, and Wanka fruit. 

Bosh bosh zoom zoom biscuits. Tosh. 

And I am missing Batti Mix (Yoghurt) and Bum Bum Sticks (Lollies). Photos to follow, with any luck. 

 

Last but not least, here's how you can choose your ice cream flavours. I say flavours, but they mean colours, don't they?

Yes, that would be how you explain what chocolate ice cream tastes like. 

And here's vanilla. No, sorry, pistachio. That's a white dude, with acne. 

Strewth.

Terremoto

First proper earthquake this morning, details here. The school has a seismic alarm, which sounded just before 8am, but was quite slow. Most of the kids had already screamed and were heading for the exit points.

We've had a few tremors, but nothing more than a low purr. Recorded at a mere 4.3 about 40km away from the school. Nothing, comparatively. But this morning was the first one I have felt.

Windows wobbling, ground a-shakin', kids a-screamin' - rather like that moment on a plane when suddenly turbulence feels threatening, but the moment you feel that, it's over. No real fun at all. I see  why everyone who has experienced one describes earthquakes in terms of how long they last, not the numbers.

To be honest, I will be happy if I never experience anything more than that. Having spoken to people here who were here in the big ones - 1971, and November 2007 - and to friends in Christchurch who describes what one of these really feels like, nothing more than 4.0 is plenty.

Lima life

A couple of pics of the girls' life here. 

Maia's 2nd birthday at her nido

Leah, perfectly attired for her Saturday swimming classes. 

What's worse than texting and driving?

An original twist on an old story, drivers in Lima, but I had to sneak a photo of this fella on my regular combi, the Pachacamac to La Punta express. 

Stuck in traffic, Billy the Bus Driver considered giving it some horn. 

It took drives more than the duration of my journey to finish reading the article. Maybe - and I might be jumping to conclusions here - he was being distracted by the naked chic on the left.

What the UK looks like to an Argentine.

Here are a few of my favourite anecdotes that makes me look at the UK the way an Argentine does.


From a kid I used to teach, now working as a gap student. A couple of gems in here. 
I can see some notable differences with Argentineans, such as the sense of humor, which I think is sometimes "healthier" here. Also I was very surprised by the "pub" culture, where you do not buy your own drink, each one buys a 'round'. That's not very frequent in Argentina; and, also, you go several times a week. I can say that I havent noticed any negative aspects yet. The people I work with are always in a good mood and laughing. I dont know if I was lucky, or just the people here are very kind, I guess you can give me some info on that, haha.


Info: the people you are working with are drunk and/or foreign.  


A story a friend tells about visiting the UK with his Argentine fiancee, now wife:   
After going around the country, catching up with friends and meeting family, as we were leaving someone's house, Agos spun around and said: "Does anyone eat anything in this frikkin' country except f*ck*ng lasagna?" 


It is the middle class food of choice, isn't it?

After a kid flew to London for a public speaking competition:

Me: - How was London?

Kid: - Yeah. Really really organised. 

(I expected him to mention the architecture, the Thames, Big Ben... the food?)

Me: - Oh. How do you mean?

Kid: - Well. One day we were waiting for a bus. And there was a timetable, with the times the bus would come, And then, when the time arrived, the bus arrived. Things like that, but all the time. 

* Wow. Britain to Argentines is like Germany to the British. Now I realise why all those German tourists in Argentina looked a little... lostconfused *  

From another student I used to teach, after a school cultural exchange. What's the best thing about the UK? 

You feel a lot prettier when you're there. 

PS Everything's Amazing, Nobody's Happy

Louis CK's Amazing and That Makes Me Happy. A much much funnier version of the previous blog entry.

"Everything's Amazing, Nobody's Happy"

Back in the UK for a wonderful May week served to me a painful reminder of that particular British (well, certainly something that binds the Scots and English) trait.

Whinging.

Now, I take into account that I now turn a tourist's eye on the UK. I am, genuinely, like an overweight American with an enormous map and a loud voice, amazed at how much history it's got, I gazed at the Big Ben like your best anorak and literally marvelled at the age and beauty of the buildings in Edinburgh in the sun.

I was there on holiday, and didn't have work looming at the end of the Bank Holiday weekend to quadruple my hangover. I had more mates to catch up with, and nothing to get up for. So, yes, spectacles well and truly tinted a la rose.

That's me, in the hat. With the legs. 

That said, you arrive at any other airport in the world, and are met with posters after magazines extolling the virtues and delights that await you as a guest in their country.

You arrive at Heathrow and are greeted by a large screen above Passport Control, which reads thus:

WANT TO COMPLAIN?

You've barely arrived - technically, I don't think you're even in Britain yet - and already you're introduced to assimilate in the worse way.

From landing on the airstrip to leaving the terminal was 14 minutes. Lima to London in about 11 hours. In the 6 minutes I was queueing for Passport Control - the new data scanning screening like something from Total Recall - those around me hardly had time to fill out their complaints forms so quickly was the queue moving. Maybe the question mark an accident.

Today, it will be absolutely miserable. And now for the weather... 

Maybe it's been the weather, and clearly the UK needs a dose of sun. That temptress of a warm weekend in March just raised everyone's expectations, so to return to winter mid-May seems a tough pill to swallow.

"Dinnae bother takin' a photo, pal. It'll all fa'
doon o' look shite by the mornin'." Rab, 17

Even so, you can look at the weather in two ways. Going for a run in Edinburgh, I found myself taking a breather whilst enjoying the view over the Dean Bridge.

Bear in mind I live in Lima, where the most beautiful and oldest building would be torn down as an eye-sore if it were in Edinburgh.

Still, Georgian Houses stretched out as far as the eye could see in the sunshine. A guy was stood near me. Grey of skin and looking on the point of a heart attack, I took him for a local. He was, however, apparently doing the same. Admiring the view, that is.

"That's about as good as it gets," I said. "Edinburgh in the sunshine..."
"Aye," he said. "Forecast says it's tae get worse later on."

OK, it's not as though I'm not aware that cutting down the irritating optimism of the tourist is a national pass time, but I found this particularly irritating. By definition, if this is as 'good as it gets', that also means it will get worse later. It has to. But that's not what people infer when they say, that is 'as good as it gets'.

But you can still enjoy the sunshine NOW, can't you? Now! Without getting existential on you, that is the only time you can ever enjoy anything. Apply that attitude to anything else in life, and there is literally no point in doing anything. Which is actually quite a Scottish attitude. Like the hill shepherds I grew up watching, sitting in the same chair every night in the local pub with an unmistakable aye, u'll jist sit here and drink till 'um deed disposition.

That's the best pint I've ever had. Oh shite. Every drink I'll have fae noo will be worse. My wan love ruined. Thanks a lot, barman. You've ruined ma life.     

Back to you on the Dean Bridge anyway, you walking NHS-waiting-list-statistic, clogged-artery, lung-wheezing, pint-is-half-empty, too-hot-in-the-summer-anyway doomsday-waiting John-Knox-descending arse of a miserable bastard! Just frikkin' look at that view! Enjoy it!! People would travel from all over the world to look at that view. I just have!! It's bloody wonderful.

Ah, forget it. Finish your Lambert & Butler and wait for your left arm to start tingling.

It's going to bloody awful, just how you like it. 

And I am of course aware of the irony that I am simply complaining about all the complaining. So, rather than add to the problem, allow me to outline 5 things that deserve to be complained about. Whinge at will:
1. Service stations on the M5. Chriiiiiist I could end it all.
2. Price of petrol. You'll see people squeezing out kidney stones in less discomfort than those squeezing out petrol.
3. The Media. Yeah, the whole frikkin' lot. Not, of course, proper journalists, writers or poets. 
4. The Forthcoming Disappointment That Will Be England's Showing In Euro 2012. At least this will give the Scots something to cheer about.
5. People Who Complain. Get stuck into them.

The Olympics is going to be amazing - possible the greatest ever collection of athletes - so will the weather be from May onwards, so are 90% of the things about the country. Shit, England might even play well in the Euro's, at least if Downing and Carroll take their club form into... ok. But everything else! So frikkin' cheer up and allow yourselves to enjoy it, ya miserable island!!

Post script:

At this point, I would like to mention what wonderful friends I have, none of whom fall into any of the above categories. Especially, as we walking back after a few pints in The Duke over the Thames in Richmond, one good fella, who said: "Look at that. You know, if you travelled to Paris, or Bruges, or wherever, and saw that view you'd stop, take a photo, update Facebook with a smug caption... and I walk over this bridge just about every day. Beautiful."

Good on ya, fella. More of that, Britain, more of that please.

Plaza de Armas

Used semana santa to give thanks and reflect on what we've been given get hammered and then drag ourselves into town while the traffic was asleep. Got to the centre in 20 minutes, which means nothing to me as I have no commute. Katie assures me that this would usually take one light year.   

Plaza de Armas: downtown Lima. Leah dancing, for money

It's absolutely beautiful. People always qualify their appreciation of downtown Lima, it seems. I told my colleagues we were going to the centre, and they told me to watch my bags, and not to take a camera, or anything valuable, like water or food. I don't think they've been there recently. 

Plaza de Armas

Plaza de Armas is lovely, and knowing nothing about either architecture or history, I shall move on immediately.

1613. And still no Starbucks.   

... bunch of narrow streets leading off the plaza, which take you to a bunch of interesting hidden gems, notably Bar Cordano. I mentioned grandly to Katie that this was in the bar in which the protagonists of Mario Vargas Llosas epic tale had many a conversation.

"Which book was that?" she replied, suspiciously.
"Conversations in a Cathedral" I quipped, realising my mistake.  

Casa de literatura: bring it, Mario Vargas Llosa. 

So a quick stroll through the Casa de Literatura, a name I am quite possibly making up out of laziness, which has a room each downstairs dedicated to the great Peruvian writers, from Mario Vargas Llosa to... wikipedia... for the full list.

Gothic Cathedral, just off the Plaza. 

Finished up opposite Bar Cordano next to the catacombs, which apparently are tops. Didn't visit. All in all, cracking day downtown.

Oh, and finally, the cultural highlight of the day:

Lima Cricket

A picture tells a thousand lies. 

Played my first game in Peru, at Lima Cricket and Sports Club, for a team whose name I cannot pronounce or spell, and play in the most ludicrous of purple hats. Eigernossen?

A fabulous bastion of ex-pat life if ever there was one. Clubhouse is called The Cricketers for M.C.C's sake, and they serve Fish and Chips, in newspaper! If you're going to be not living in Peru, you should do it in style, I say.  

And what is less Living In Peru than a game of cricket? That's right, a good piece of driving, I hear you cry (at the pun).  

My otherwise totally undistinguished performance was rescued by a combination of the digital revolution, social networks and no small amount of skill from the wonderful Christine Kradolfer, who I have to thank for this cracking photo. Split second earlier, no top hand at all. Split second later, legs already cramping. But such is the timing (of the camerawork) that somehow the one shot I did middle is captured forever, and now published for the entire world to enjoy.  

Unlike Argentina, regrettably, Cricket Peru is an almost exclusively ex-pat affair. As such, I found more than anything I missed the bizarre Spanish-Spanglish-CricketSpeak that had evolved in Argentine Cricket. To speak in English on the pitches of, well, let's be frank, San Albano was to invite a world of tobogando, as the bitter banter of a pair of not so tiny Paterlinis arrived to remind you that you were a visitor in their country, and to get the papas fritas back to your own if you wannaspeakininglish.  

But, like all dying languages, this one is worth recording.

Credit and thanks to the great Argentines Derek Culley and Nico Schulte full much of this, and especially to the surprisingly trilingual Ryan Butta for the following A to Z for Spanish Cricket Jargon

And yes, this took about 3 years or ropey slip cordon banter to complete. (Like cricket, about 10 people in the world will find this brilliant...):


Agricultural = ... del campo
An Angry Scotsman = Un Escoces Enojado
Bowl = Bolear 
Bowler = Boleador/a
Bat = Batear 
Batsman = Bateador/a

Backward point = a tras de la punta

A BOUNCER = Seguridad

A Chinese Cut = Un corto chino

Chin music = La musica de la barbilla

Cifras del boleador = Bowling figures

Cricket = El creequet/croquet

Cricketer = Un creequetero/a 

CREASE = arruga

POPPING CREASE = arruga estallando

Cow corner = Esquina de vaca

To catch = Atrapar

A catch = Un catch 

To catch like a crocodile = Hacer un 'worsnap'

To field = Fieldear

The field - La cancha 

GOOGLY = Un Politico - looks like it's spinning one way, but on arrival it spins the other way

Gully - un arroyo 

Ground fees = Roberto (as in Robert de Niro (dinero) 

Fine = Fina 

Fine leg = Pierna fina 

First slip = primer resbaloso and so on..

Full Toss (vulg.) = Paja llena

LBW = PFW Pierna delante de los palos

Long on = Largo encima

Long off = Largo afuera

Silly mid off = Medio tonto 

Silly mid on = Medio tonto encima

MICHELLE 5-for = Un Capital Asiatico/Singapor/Cinco por... 

NO BALL = Sin pelotas

Retired hurt = jubilado lastimado 

Run Out = Corre Afuera o Victima del Salvaje  

Short leg = Pierna corta/enano

Square leg = Pierna cuadrada 

SEAM = parece...  He is getting some nice parece out there

Sledging = Tobogando

Stumped = Quedar manco 

TO SLOG = slogear

A SLOGGER = un slogeador/a

SWING = el eswing

Six biscuits = seis galletitas, o 'media docena' 

IN-SWINGER = Portia di Rossi

AWAY-SWINGER = Elton John 

REVERSE SWING = Ojo! Parecio un Elton John pero en realidad era una Portia de Rossi!

The Thing! = Cualquier Lowen

Wicket = Los palos

TO WHIP eg "He whipped it from outside off stump") = Azotar!? "Lo azoto de afuera de los palos. Que bateador!" 

WRONG 'UN =  Un equivocado

And two phrases, for the master class only... 

HE NICKED IT THROUGH TO THE SLIPS. "El lo schulteo a traves de los resbalosos!"

HE NICKED IT, THE KEEPER WENT UP, BUT HE DIDN'T WALK. "El lo schulteo, Luli Fernandez (a real keeper) subio, pero no camino... Pelotudo. No es el cricket para nada."  
* The verb "To nick" derives from the great Argentine batsman Nico Schulte. Hence in the past simple, lo schulteo means he nicked it *