Worst of Lima - those helpful parking people

*Parking Law* As long as a man with a filthy cloth, gum boots, and the ability to whistle has
direct eye line with your car, you park anywhere in Latin America. In front of an embassy, in the middle of a cross roads. Hell, leave it in front of an A&E while you browse the newspaper headlines. As long as whistling rag man makes a series of indistinguishably complicated hand signals at you, you lock and leave.

Somehow communicated through this combinations of hand flapping, whistling and man-nods the following unspoken agreement has been signed and sealed:

Price Plan 1
I will park my car here. You will help me park by pointing out that there is a wall in front of me, and moving cars behind me. If it is still physically here when I return, I will pay you a sum of no less than S/.1 an hour (25p). If under any circumstances you scratch up my car by dragging that pebble strewn rag across its new paintwork, we will agree to call it quits. Ha! You will lose 25p, and it will only cost me around US$350 to fix the scratches. That'll learn you.

Price Plan 2a
I will park my car here. You will help me park by pointing out that there is a wall in front of me, moving cars behind me, and give me an enthusiastic thumbs up just as I scrape my front bumper and lights into the water hydrant that I indicated to you second ago, but you apparently ignored, so busy whistling and saying 'dale dale dale' (translation below) at me. I will pay you S/.2 an hour, plus scraping bonus. This will cost me only US$490 to fix scratches and lights. Costumer wins again.  

Price Plan 2b (see footnote)
I will inexplicably trust you to valet park my car at a location of your choice. After two terrifying hours of insecurity, I will return the same spot, upon which you will miraculously show me my car parked no more than three spaces away. This will call into question two things: firstly, why the need to valet park? Secondly, why did you not steal my car? Roles reversed, hand on heart, I would have stolen my car. But thanks. I will pay you S/.20 out of sheer relief that I still own a car, which rag man bizarrely insists is too much. I settle on S/.10 Seriously though, dude, we should talk. You should probably be stealing these cars.    

Price Plan 3

Price Plan 3: Trustworthy dudes. 

I will park my car in a space of your recommendation. You will clean my car with your filthy rag. As I return, you will jump up onto the wheel and make a huge show of cleaning even the hardest-to-reach-parts, and jump down with your finest just-finished-this-second-m'laud smile. This is the car cleaners' equivalent of the well known office scam: minimizing the Last Minute Dot Com screen whilst expanding Excel the second before the boss passes your workspace before sealing the rouse by out loud in a stage whisper exhale - "and print!" - safe in the knowledge that our superiors where promoted purely on the basis of their gullibility.    

Footnote: 
Price Plan 2b: I believe this option is only taken once, by embarrassed/hungover foreigners who believe they are parking somewhere safer than they are. Said embarrassed/hungover foreigner, let's call this person Dougal Brian, might for no reason assume one of the hand signals means 'There's not much space here. I will park your car somewhere safer.' Being middle class and not wanting to appear racist and untrusting Dougal Brian will hand over the keys. Bemused, the local chap, let's call him Miguel, tries to save Brian's blushes by driving round the block until Brian has walked away. Miguel then spends several terrified hours wondering if Brian has shopped him to the police, under the belief that he was forced to give up his car. Equally relieved to see each other, Miguel and Brian silently agree to never speak of this issue, settling eventually over a bond of S/.10

Glossary: dale - (literally) go on, but a better translation of 'dale, dale, dale' would be as follows 'Go on, I'm not watching, I couldn't give a fuck you new-car-driving-ponce that you are, go on wreck your precious paint work you tool, go on, there it is, a little more - how can you not see that fire hydrant... (crunch) OK, stop there. Done another one. Get in there.' 

Best of Lima - Your local precio fijo

Not my local, but illustrates the point. Plus, I would
feel like a berk taking a photo in the local...  

Fixed price restaurants. All over Peru you'll find a line of little eateries, chalkboards out the front offering more or less the same thing. Fortunately, the same thing is cerviche, chicken broth, tamales, humitas, lomo saltado, roast chicken, with drinks, for about $2. Best of the best is, fortunately, about half a block from where I work, and I'll add a real photo when I don't feel like a ponce for producing a camera-phone.

These are strictly working men's places, but as a gringo, I've found that the transition from stared-at-novelty to totally-ignored-local is about five minutes. Men's worlds they may be, but they are strictly the domain of la madrina - the Godmother. Like a good landlady in your local pub, a decent madrina will shift her clientele with efficient ruthlessness from table to table in order to pack in the next hungry customer, but without a hint of commercialism. People need to eat, her body language states. You're 2 people and here's space for 4. This might well be the third time you've moved in four mouthfuls, but you are now sitting here. Where I've moved your bag. The regulars are used to this, and have perfected a technique of moving without disrupting the fork to mouth rhythm that lesser men should not try lest they lose an eye.

Entertainment comes in various forms. Guaranteed is a TV blaring Peruvian telenovelas: soap operas so dripping in cliches that it's impossible not to get dragged in to the melo-oh-so-much-drama. The lead ladies routinely get shot or slapped by ponytailed men whose biceps prevent them from buttoning their shirts. Presumably the layer cake of make up makes these made up maids on the make bullet proof. They're always there the next week.

Seamlessly transforming into a place to get some cervezas down your neck as soon as the main courses have finished. The telenovela gives way to football, either a violent game in a half empty stadium or a replay of a superclasico from the 80s, flickery screen, bad goal celebrations and tickets strewn across the pitch.

Take the best of your working man's cafe in the UK, add food that's better that it has any right to be, then magically turn it into a pub as soon as you've finished your lunch without even moving your arse. Well, unless madrina tells you so.

All that. For about a quid fifty.

Chorrillos

Chorrillos, the wonderfully scruffy barrio full of hidden gems just south of Barranco, introduced to us by Ned and Amy, where seemingly all summer the mist cuts off Miraflores like a mark of respect, removing the Lima that is desperately trying to be the first world, and leaving the far more enjoyable reality.

The fish market is a cracker. Fish are piled up on tables and vaguely arranged into species, and a local hawker in a shirt covered in fish gut barks prices at you. As a gringo, this is interspersed with offers of boat rides, offers of restaurant deals and, inexplicably, the chance to take a photo of your child with an inflatable dolphin. 

Jurassic Park

Best of all for the kids is the chance to feed the pterodactyls pelicans:

    

Playa de pescadores

The beach is rammed, and in no way luxurious, but you can't help but enjoy the proximity of the local families who'll watch your stuff for you, play with your kids or point out that a man dressed as a giant chicken is handing out candies on the seafront. The uber-exclusive Regatta's club is on the next door beach, and whilst they have a floating trampoline and a giant slide, I'd rather be here any day. Well, that and the lifelong waiting list of people willing to $65,000 to join. 

Boat trip

... was lame as toast, and even Leah was complaining that there was no danger of capsizing. But Maia had a good chat with the captain, after resting on his chest while he was trying to nap, and an 11 year-old steered us in to a series of boats.

El Sabor del Exito

Finished off in style with lunch and beers at El Sabor del Exito, which is splendid. Cracking food, great service, a bucket with water so you can wash our feet after the beach, cheap cold beer and fresh fried fish.

 

Plus, they let your kids dance around the drunk... er... itchy... regulars.

  

Can't wait for a lot more of this in the future. 

What I have learned about Peruvians, Part 1

What I have learned about Peruvians so far. Now, I have little doubt that I will look back at this and it will be little more than, well, frankly, racist stereotyping. But hopefully in the well-meaning Bill-Bryson-aren't-Germans-humorless-but-efficient way, rather than in the comments-heard-off-air-by-a-football-commentator way. Anyway, here goes:

- No means, or looks like it means, yes. A strange, downward intonation ya replaces the expected si, often with a companying shake of the head.

- Poker faces, the lot of them. Don't give nothin' away.

- When drunk, poker face drops. Significantly. Very Scottish, in this respect, but without the aggression.

- They're not a huge fan of Chileans.

- They're not huge fans of Argentines.

- Distinction. They hate Chileans. I was being way too light before.

- They are huge fans of running red lights.

- They like a firework or two.

- A Peruvian can nap like no other. Never is this more true of your taxi driver, where, if he were to deign to stop at a red light (which he wouldn't), he might even catch 17 seconds worth of winks (which he could).

- They're surprising up front about money. I've been asked often in conversation how much I earn, what I get paid, what I pay for rent and so on. Financially speaking, what am I doing in Peru? I don't find this invasive, save for the fact that financially speaking, I don't know what the crap I am doing on the planet, so it's hard to think of a sensible response.

- Nice house. How much are you playing for it? What did your car cost? You pay for those shoes in quotas?

- They know their food.

- In spite of knowing their food, they're mad for the double carb: rice and chips, not either/or.

- Many many of their standard supermarket food stuffs have comedy rude names: Tosh biscuits, BattiMix yoghurts, Wanka fruit, Fanny, Bimbo, Hornyman tea...   

- Traffic = British weather. So bad it requires to be constantly remarked on. One cannot, cannot, resign oneself to the fact that THIS.IS.HOW.IT.IS

- They like a moderate climate: and by moderate I mean 23 degrees, slightly overcast. Any less and it might as well be 3 degree (lowest, about 16?), any more and you'd think you were living on the sun (que calor, no puedo, simplemente no se puede..).

- Above rules do not apply on a beach. They love a beach. Any old type of shitty, pebbly, strong current carrying crap... beaches rock.

- Every single Peruvian male I have met so far was there - actually there! - at the 1978 World Cup, Peru v Scotland, in Argentina, for Peru's famous victory. Even if they are in their 20s, they were there.

- They're tough as old boots. I guess they would be, when you look at the forging-a-living-out-of-the-desert, resisting-the-Spanish, braving-the-16-degree-winters history of the country, but they're nails. Playing football against Argentines was humiliating, but never painful: skillful but soft. Against Peruvians, the opposite.

- They hate Chileans. Did I mention that? Well, if its good enough for them to mention every couple of minutes, it's enough for me. Frikkin' Chilenos.

2012 favourites

Because I like lists of things:

... films (in order): Beasts of the Southern Wild, Argo, Looper, Skyfall, Ted 

... books: Heliopolis, English Passengers, Last Days of the Incas, How to be a Woman, The Psychopath Test

... TV: Mad Men, Season 5. Sure to jump the shark next season, but until it does... cheers!

...proudest achievement of 2012: Perhaps that I have not watched a single moment of reality TV. Not including the news.

... hotel: Second Home, Barranco (right).

... quote from a student: Student's homework was to interview someone from a different background about their education. One question was, What would you do if you won the lottery? This kid fail bad in Inglish.

... quote from my kids: The night after the epic Murray US Open victory.

Leah - "Daddy, are you watching tennis tonight?
Me/Awesome Dad - "No, why?"
Leah - "Good. Beacause I don´t want you to say 'shit', 'fuck' or 'yay'."

... man: Tim Minchin. Love that funky ginge...

... woman: Caitlin Moran, including and especially her views on witches.

... child: Dead heat. Leah made a massive comeback second half of the year, just when Maia looked like she had it sealed up.

... parenting fail: Dropping Leah off at nursery with neither her lonchera (snack box), nor wearing any pants.

... first world problem: Having to take the 'bus' to pay an overdue electricity bill.  This took over 45 minutes, meaning the sun wasn't on the pool when I got home. Swim chillier than preferable. @FWP

(First World Glossary: A 'bus' is like a large taxi, but has many more people in it. The driver doesn't ask where you're from, and it doesn't take you to your destination. You get off the minute you recognise anything near your chosen destination. It is very cheap and usually smells.)

... rumour:  "If the Mayans were good at predicting things, there wiould still be Mayans."

... sporting live moment: In an unparallelled year of sporting magic, Jessica Ennis' 800m, Andy Murray at US Open, Scotland scoring a try against the All Blacks... but it was probably my goal against Maintenance in the school 7-a-side league.

... YouTube: Best of Zidane. Go on, click the link, the guy was a genius.

... time-wasting site: Fail Blog. Thank you, particularly News Anchor Fail Compilation 2012.

... bar: Maximo's, Barranco

.. fact: That on average, women speak 7000 words a day, whilst men only speak 2000. In Scotland, I believe the ratio remains the same, but the figures are reduced by a thousand.
Her allowance: "Ei, Billy, you gettin' sum more beer?
His allowance: "Aye."

... piece of advice: Don't take your SmartPhone out in town. Buy a Pay-as-you-go for nights out.

... biggest regret: Not taking the above advice about the SmartPhone v Pay-as-you-go.

... worst moment in 2012: Probably when they mugged me for my iPhone. Or when the guy in Ayahuasca's offered to make me a 'special Scottish' cocktail, whereupon he gave me something that tasted like Tennants on Buckfast on Scotch, blended wi' pure shite.

... most embarrassing moment: Receiving a letter from my kid's school (which is my school) stating that I was last parent in the entire school to pay their child's school fees. And could I pay them please.

... best buy: Trampoline.

... lowest point as a man:
1. Trying to put up the trampoline.
2. Joking during football that I weighed just 43 kilos. At the end of the game, my opponent came up to me, quietly, and asked me if I really weighed 43 kilos.

... moment of ageing:
Sixth form student trying to cheers me up, after I said I was 'old'.
Student - "Come on, Sir. What age are you?"
Me - "35."
Student - "Ah, that's not old. That's my Mum's age."

Hmm... that's it, I think.

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.