We’d come to the twin-towered cathedral in the heart of the Peruvian capital’s old quarter on a Saturday morning for a whiff of history, including the tomb of Francisco Pizarro, 16th-century conqueror of the mighty Incan empire.
Outside the hulking church on Plaza de Armas stood a white stretch limousine, its doors bedecked with bows. We’d chanced upon one of those serendipitous pleasures that can spice the lives of travelers anywhere in the world — in this case, the wedding of an evidently well-to-do couple about to emerge from the cathedral into a gathering of relatives and friends.
So there’s likely at least one photograph in the matrimonial portfolio of those beaming newlyweds flanked by a flock of American tourists who’d briefly infiltrated their celebration. And some of us have similar photos to serve as jolly evidence that unexpected encounters are sometimes as memorable as the famous sights touted in the brochures and guidebooks — maybe even more so.
For my wife, Marcia, and me, our 17 days in Peru earlier this year were deliciously flavored by such surprises, which served as savory seasoning for a long-awaited destination. On our first trip to this South American land, which had occupied our wish list for decades, we were wowed as expected by Machu Picchu and other pre-Columbian archaeological sites, as well as the awesome Andean mountain landscapes.
But the Lima wedding and an array of other unanticipated amazements, some endearing and some amusing, are the focus in this account of a splendid journey spent mostly with an Elderhostel group plus several days on our own. Such moments can be a rewarding part of any vacation, whether halfway around the world or in your own home state.
A refreshing surprise awaited soon after our midnight arrival from Houston at Lima’s chaotic airport. When we checked in at the adjacent Ramada Inn, the desk clerk proffered vouchers for complimentary pisco sours at the lobby bar. A nightcap sounded like a soothing antidote for a six-hour flight on a packed plane, and the pisco sours with their froth of egg whites ranked among the best we sipped in Peru.
We later learned that Peru and Chile have a fierce ongoing debate over which nation first concocted this drink made from clear regional brandy, lemon or lime juice and bitters. We were told as well that real men in Peru take their pisco straight up, while dismissing the pisco sour as a froufrou concoction for tourists and wimps.
Respectable wines are also made in Peru, mostly for consumption within the country, though some we tasted could probably find a market in the United States. We especially liked the Chardonnay and Blanco de Blancos whites from Tacama, whose vineyards date to the 1540s.
Having forgotten to pack a corkscrew, we also discovered that it is possible to open a bottle of wine by pushing down firmly and patiently on the cork with the blunt end of a toothbrush. This desperation maneuver may result in a small splash out the bottle’s mouth when the cork finally plops down into the wine. It is recommended only in emergencies, such as being in your hotel room late at night and not wanting to put your pants back on for a sashay down to the bar to see if a corkscrew can be borrowed.
Our Lima cathedral stop was followed by the daily changing of the guard, an elaborate ceremony including a band, in front of the Government Palace on the same flower-bedecked square. Marcia, often more observant than I, began chuckling as we both snapped photographs of the pageantry.
“What’s so funny?” I asked.
“Look at the soldiers’ feet,” she replied. Sure enough, the boots of the troops pointed in a dozen cockeyed directions when they changed formation. Any drill sergeant worth his stripes would have been struck down with apoplexy — or the giggles.
Another day in Lima, we were amazed (or stupefied) at Museo Larco de Lima by the sight of 45,000 pre-Columbian ceramics collected a century ago by a pottery-obsessed archaeologist named Rafael Larco Herrera. Shelf after shelf after shelf of these pieces from the Moche, Sican and Chimu civilizations stretched before us.
In a separate gallery, we were treated to a flabbergasting display of pornographic pottery, evidence that these ancient cultures did appreciate the pleasures of the flesh.
A similar 21st-century appreciation was signaled in northern Peru as our Elderhostel bus drove south on the Pan American Highway from Chiclayo to Trujillo.
While we rolled along, I spotted a number of roadside complexes partly hidden behind walls or fences, with signs in Spanish that appeared to advertise room rates for one hour, two hours or three hours of occupancy. Our tour guide was reticent at first when I asked about them, but he eventually confirmed my suspicion that they were “love motels” for illicit assignations.
Chiclayo, our base for visiting several impressive archaeological sites and the dazzling Moche burial treasures at the new Museum of the Royal Tombs of Sipan, also led to the trip’s most heartwarming group encounter. This was an Elderhostel visit in nearby Lambayeque to Cielo Azul (Blue Heaven), a private school that charges just $30 a year in tuition.
After the two dozen assembled youngsters greeted us, an adult alumni couple performed a vigorous courtship dance. Then each child gave one of us a small gift and a hug in exchange for the school supplies the group had brought. My little girl was too shy to give her name, but her sincerity was charmingly unfeigned.
In Chiclayo, I made the more random acquaintance of a grade-school girl while strolling through the so-called Witches Market, a maze of stalls whose merchants sell herbal medications and other natural products. Like so many other Peruvians we met, she was pleased to pose for my camera while her father dealt with a couple of customers. Her smile was a prize-winner.
The substantial number of full-figured Peruvians on the streets provided evidence of the seriousness with which eating is taken here. Highlights of our meals included ceviche and other fresh seafood, along with such tropical fruits as guava, mango, “maracuya” (passion fruit), “lucuma” (eggfruit) and “chirimaya” (custard apple).
One dining intention we failed to fulfill was the sampling of “cuy,” a national dish widely served on festive occasions. Cuy is guinea pig, an essential source of protein in Peru for millennia, as witness an Incan saying: “Raise guinea pigs and eat well.”
A revelation along these lines in the cathedral at Cuzco, capital of the Incan empire, was a large 17th-century painting of the Last Supper to the right of the high altar. At the center of the table before Jesus and the 12 disciples sat a platter containing a whole roasted cuy — the artist’s attempt, we were told, to meld pre-Columbian religious beliefs with Christianity.
Also crossing our path were animals both homely and handsome. On the homely side, we saw Peruvian hairless dogs (also known as Peruvian Inca Orchids) at several archaeological digs. Bald from nose to toes, these critters weighing up to 50 pounds struck our American eyes as unsightly in part because of their size — a substantial hairless expanse.
The handsomest creatures we saw, on an Elderhostel stop in the northern town of Paijan, were a stable of Peruvian paso horses. These gorgeous steeds dazzled us with their smooth, four-beat, lateral gait. One of our fellow tourists was sporting enough to take a ride, earning applause all around.
We got to Machu Picchu on the comfortable Vistadome train from Ollantaytambo, a tourist-thronged town built by the Spaniards atop the previous native settlement in the Incan heartland known as the Sacred Valley. Some of the hour-and-a-half rail ride ran along the raging Urubamba River, which boiled and roiled with rapids as rough as any we’ve seen. A spectacular sight, it was water way too white for rafting.
On the train back to Ollantaytambo, we served as a captive audience for the first rolling fashion show Marcia or I have experienced. The capes, sweaters and other garb paraded down the car’s narrow aisle were gorgeous — particularly those woven from vicuna, the wild cousin of the llama and alpaca. We were told that the eye-popping price tags reflected the fact that an adult vicuna produces only a pound or so of the species’ particularly fine and warm wool each year.
On our own at the end of the trip, Marcia and I traveled by first-class bus from Lima south to see the celebrated Nazca Lines and the striking desert terrain of Paracas National Reserve on a Pacific Ocean peninsula.
The bus rides found us comfortably cosseted in a mobile lower-deck cocoon of sorts, while a television monitor supplied us with a mixed bag of movies whether we needed them or not. The U.S.-made films included the 1987 version of “The Untouchables,” starring Kevin Costner; “Wild Hogs,” a highly forgettable John Travolta vehicle; and a woeful would-be comedy, whose title escaped us, about an outcast Playboy bunny who becomes housemother at a down-and-out college sorority.
No wonder, Marcia mused, that foreigners develop such bizarre impressions of America from the movies we export.
The otherworldly arid landscapes of Paracas National Reserve dazzled us on a guided morning drive. As we neared the end of the excursion, the Peru trip’s final wildlife sighting was suitably startling. The creature, spotted by Marcia, was a lone Humboldt penguin that evidently had wound up on the mainland after getting separated from its colony on the offshore Ballestas Islands.
A penguin in a desert seemed as unlikely a parley as could have been imagined, wrapping up a vacation remarkably blessed with the unforeseen.
Jack Schnedler, deputy managing editor/features at the Arkansas Democrat-Gazette, is a former Chicago Sun-Times travel editor and a former president of the Society of American Travel Writers.
The details
Information on travel in Peru is available at , the website of the Peruvian national tourist office. Worthwhile guidebooks include the Peru volumes in the Lonely Planet, Moon Handbooks, Footprint and DK Eyewitness Travel series.
For information on Elderhostel’s 13-day “Majesty and Mystery: Ancient Civilization of Peru” program, call 800-454-5768 or visit .
