My horizons are a bit smaller in Barranca than elsewhere, since my universe is my neighborhood. It was pretty exciting to have a new food truck cafe. A pleasant Colombian couple is selling coffee drinks and the back of their van has two beautiful old-fashioned looking expresso machines. The two wear traditional Colombian outfits and look dazzing compared to the rest of us.There is only one tiny down side. I was envisioning my cappucino after a morning walk, but our new coffee purveyors said they set up around 1 pm. Maybe they’ll eventually try a morning shift.
We had a wonderful New Year’s Eve considering that at noon on Dec. 31 we had no idea what would happen. A couple of conversations later and a quick trip to the store we were set. (Jonathan shopped while I stood in the long line. Serendipity smiled, and he turned up just as I got to the head of the line.)
We strolled the beach in the afternoon. There are a lot of tents this year, pitched by people who want to celebrate on the beach.Food trucks are getting into competition with traditional street-side vendors.
I was fascinated by a group jumping rope on the beach, especially since they were mostly men. I’m used to jump rope being for girls. At one point all three men managed to get in and get jumping.
Teresa hates to have her picture taken. Leila doesn’t mind.
After harvesting some salad ingredients in the garden and a bit of cooking we were ready for guests.
We had a simple goal, make it to midnight. The tradition in Peru is to start the evening at midnight, celebrating at home over a dinner at the start of the New Year, then going off to clubs or parties. Our group was willing to have dinner earlier, in hopes of making it to midnight.
We suggested guests arrive at 8 pm and we started with a range of beverages from homemade eggnog to wine and scotch. We were happy to chat and sip, with just a few peanuts to keep us going. There was a long discussion of how early was too early for dinner. Waiting until midnight was out of the question, but if we ate at nine, would we be asleep by 11? There was also an important rehash of the year’s news, politics and neighborhood gossip. That took us until almost ten, and we finally decided that the right moment had arrived.
It was a delicious dinner, with steak, pasta salad and green salad. We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly, but even so the party unraveled after 11.
Jonathan and I decided to put chairs on the front porch and await the midnight fireworks that are a cherished custom in Peru. Who can sleep through an extended spate of fireworks? We decided we might as well see them. The fireworks were impressive considering that they are all privately purchased and set off. At one point, there were fireworks at three or four places along the beach and three sites above us in town. The displays went on for more than 15 minutes, a great end to the evening.The view down the beach.
Smoke and fireworks over our house.
If this is any indication, it should be a good year.
It’s time again for resolutions that we would like to keep, those we might keep, and a few that we keep making even though know we will never keep them. Hope is boundless, so let’s all put a big scoop of it in our resolutions and head on in to the New Year.
Our holiday decor is very hopeful, including elements of as many belief systems as we could gather. A Chancay figurine wears a hand of Fatima, the creche rubs shoulders with a couple from Ayacucho riding an elephant, and all the stockings show how Christmas is perceived by designers in China. There is a piece of whale bone in the non-functioning fireplace. At least Santa doesn’t get burned on a real fire when he comes down the chimney.
Meanwhile, transitions are taking place all around us as summer takes hold in Peru. The thick coastal mist that characterizes not-summer is giving way to the quickly evaporating mist that is gone by 10 am with hot days to follow. There are flocks of seabirds on the beach every day. They will seek less crowded shores as soon as summer vacationers arrive in slightly greater numbers. The flocks of gulls are punctuated by the occasional tern or oystercatcher and the rare whimbrel or two. I love seeing the whimbrels, they have such a fanciful name. Their long curved beak and nervous cheeping makes them look like an uncomfortable accountant who has lost his eyeglasses, perennially flying just over the water looking for his specs.
There are some local transitions that stand out because we’ve been away since April. Last year we had restaurants on either side of our house, both are gone. The newcomer just south of us didn’t have enough business, we hear, and gave up before his lease ended. Las Gaviotas, forty-year landmark of the neighborhood, aged out of business. The owners had passed the running of the restaurant to their son, our good friend Gaim. When Gaim was diagnosed with leukemia three years ago, we all believed that he was a bone marrow transplant away from recovery, and one of his siblings was a match. He died two years ago from a form of MRSA that he contracted in the hospital, never well enough to undergo the transplant. The cruelty of his death affected us all, but his parents couldn’t face returning to the daily grind of the restaurant, itself a reminder of their missing son. The signs are down and painted over, and they have resisted offers to rent the restaurant space to others. Las Gaviotas is closed.
Not all is gloomy. A few doors down is a brand new beach house just completed by a friend who has wanted to have her own place on Chorrillos Beach for many years. We met when she stopped by to tell us stories of staying in the house that is now ours when she was a child. Maria Luisa’s new house is lovely, with a generous porch overlooking the beach, large living/dining area decorated with Spanish tiles collected on visits to Spain through her work with Iberia airlines. There’s a large interior patio with a grassy plot in the center and two bedrooms at the back, sure to be quiet. We are looking forward to her vacation days in the neighborhood.
Up and down the beach we see people putting up new woven sun shades over their front porches and painting their facades, getting ready for the season. One disco has a new name and a restaurant has added rooms to rent. Two small hotels no longer advertise rooms, though I understand that both intend to rent rooms informally. Inspections by the civil defense authorities revealed costly upgrades that both–in older buildings–decided they couldn’t afford.
One tiny new bar has emerged along a stretch that appeared to be completely built up. Mackey’s Bunker is just over one parking space wide. That’s pretty narrow, but they’ve managed to squeeze in three tables. I wish them luck.
The beach is the same as ever. Some years the sand washes in and the beach expands. Other years the sand washes out and people worry that the seawall will be undermined. It hasn’t happened yet. The beach has not been maintained recently because of a strike by sanitation workers and the high tide line has a lot of unsavory junk–wrappers, plastic, halves of limes, the occasional onion. When we arrived there was a dead seal on the beach and we wondered whether it would be left to ferment. Just as the smell became really noticeable on our daily walk down the beach, the carcass disappeared. I guess the city fathers realized that it might put a damper on Christmas. Even the dogs wouldn’t touch it. Workers settled the strike yesterday and today, finally, the beach was clean.
The seawall is painted most years by a commercial sponsor. This year the repair and painting is underway with one section bright orange and the next section green. The logos should get stenciled on by New Year’s Eve. Or the week after. Perhaps.
The ebb and flow of life in a small beach community is unchanged. The taxi driver who parks at the bottom of the hill up to town is still there. Jonathan wished him a Feliz Navidad and shook his hand. The old man with a terribly bent back still sits on the seawall doing his Sudoku, and three generations from nearby–mother, daughter, granddaughter–walk up and down past the house. This year the youngest is pushing her doll in a carriage, not riding in a stroller herself. They wave as they go by.
We are creatures of habit here, too. We set a table and chairs on the front porch to have our lunch. At six pm we set out two easy chairs and a small table to watch the sunset. Anyone who wants to say hello or confer knows when to find us. The sunset is different every day. We have so many sunset photos that we try not to take any more, but sometimes we can’t help ourselves. It’s part of the rhythm of the neighborhood.
Our extended stay in Illinois wasn’t all we might have hoped for, after all, it included a hospital stay for Jonathan (only overnight). After all the waiting for tests, the surgery itself went smoothly and he was home and sore the next day. Now, a week later, he is largely back to normal.
We were able to take advantage of the last week of our stay to see the Illuminations at Morton Arboretum, an event where sections of trees at the arboretum are lit with lights that change color, move, even flash to the beat of music.
Some of the intense colors were beautiful, and my favorite area was where selections from The Nutcracker Suite played while lights flashed in time to the music across the trees. The night was cold but not frigid and though many people said it would be prettier with snow, I was happy without it.
This was our last winter event. We took off early Monday morning for Lima and arrived ahead of schedule (!), at 9:25 pm. We stayed overnight at the Hotel Senorial, where we’ve been staying on our trips to Lima for the past 20 years. After some shopping and the annual handicrafts fair, Ruraq Maki, at the National Museum, we headed for Barranca. We watched the sunset on the longest night of the year. It wasn’t much of a sunset, but the furthest south that the sun will set for us.
A great pleasure of being retired is having the time to dabble. I am a great putterer and after beachcombing extensively in Italy, I wanted to make something of my finds. I took the plunge and bought a Dremel. For the uninitiated, this is a tool that can be used like a drill, a polisher, a small grindstone, and mini electric sander. Once I discovered how to use the diamond drill ends by watching Youtube, I made a bracelet. The stones in this bracelet are from the beaches of Sicily, especially Heraclea Minoa, where there were lots and lots of flat, oval pebbles.
The bracelet was such a success that I decided to make a necklace. I used what I had on hand to connect the stones. These were labeled head pins and had a small decorative end on a straight wire. I bent them to fit and coiled the ends.Beach glass was next, and I selected pieces that were generally triangular, though there are several irregular pieces. Once I drilled them all, I strung them on beading wire with tiny crimp bead as spacers.I used these because that’s what I had with me. (Notice the clasp consists of a hook and a fishing swivel.)
I’m going to continue collecting beach glass so that I can make more. I know that you can make “beach glass” in a rock tumbler, but I am happy to wait until I find the real thing.
The weather moderated for Thanksgiving. It was mild and pleasant, and we shared our feast with our friend Peggy and with Lyra, visiting from New York. You won’t see Lyra in any of the photos because she was sick on Thanksgiving Day, and we let her sit out the pictures.
I am thankful for my wonderful family and friends.
We are held captive by the winds of fate, and have settled for the month of November in Wheaton, IL, our former home. When we arrived here (11/3 and 11/8 respectively), we planned to stay for a week, visit doctors, stock up on odds and ends not readily available in Peru and leave for points south. We began our stay at the home of our friend Peggy. She has the best yard anywhere.
Even in November when her army of tiny Japanese maples have lost their brilliant red leaves, there is lots to see. A few brussels sprouts and some hardy kale hang on despite the bouts of cold weather that have already passed. Arches and walkways lead to hidden nooks. The sun lights the plants and makes the leaves translucent. It is a pleasure to visit and walk through. Somehow I relax just being there.
Peggy’s garden gives me a respite from worrying about test results, delayed flights, travel insurance, waivers of change fees, plans already made that have to be changed. There’s also our lack of winter clothing beyond coats. My fingers are crossed that it doesn’t snow too soon. I remember the year we remodeled our kitchen, tearing everything out the day after Thanksgiving and piling all the debris at the side of the driveway in anticipation of the arrival of a dumpster. Two feet of snow fell the next day and it took us until February to get it cleaned up. This year the days after Thanksgiving are mild and sunny, but I know it will change soon enough.
After ten days with Peggy we rented an apartment for the rest of the month, and another for the first two weeks of December. Are we moving back to the US? That’s not our plan, but we are waiting to get Jonathan a clear bill of health. Here’s our latest home base:
We are on the second floor, right side. The photo on the right is the view from our front door. I’ll add a few pictures of the interior the next time it is presentable.
The days are growing shorter and shorter just when we hoped to be switching hemispheres where the days are growing longer. The last time I noticed how low the sun was on the horizon, it was in Norway above the Arctic Circle in June 2016, and the sun dipped low over the horizon but never set. This is the opposite. The sun is low over the horizon until 11 and after 2pm. We have been traveling for three years and I seem to have forgotten about the short days of late fall. By 3:30 pm the afternoon is on its way out, and the sun has set by 4:30. Still, we’ve had a couple of lovely sunsets on these late afternoons.
Here we are, making the best of a new place. There are lots of places to take a walk. The neighborhood streets yield surprises. There is a path that connects two neighborhoods where the road does not. In a corner of the cul-de-sac on one side, beside the walking path to the next street, someone has decorated their back yard with chandeliers. The glass drops are tiny wind chimes when the wind blows, prisms sparkling when the sun is out, quirky and charming.At first glance, you may not notice the decorations in the trees. Perhaps the sound makes you look again and you see all the chandeliers.
It’s another place that can cheer you up just by being there. Who knows what else we may find as we continue to explore.
Wall Street with the spire of Trinity Church in the background.
I thought I knew about Manhattan, having visited quite a bit while growing up and having lived in couple of neighborhoods. I’ve ridden on the Staten Island Ferry and been to the Statue of Liberty. Both require you to go to the toe of Manhattan. What I skipped over until this trip was the neighborhood just inland from the Battery that includes Wall Street. Now that Lyra lives there, we stopped in for a visit and it is a very enjoyable part of the city.
We stayed at the Wall Street Inn (on S. William St.), a very comfortable small hotel with an excellent breakfast included. It’s also near subway stops, but its greatest asset is being located right around the corner from our daughter’s apartment, by Delmonico’s. (We did not eat there on this trip.) We did take in the sights nearby and there are many. We stopped in front of Federal Hall on Wall St. where George Washington was inaugurated as the first president of the US.
We saw historic Trinity Church and its churchyard.
Lady Liberty at the Museum of the American Indian
The former US Customs House, just down the street from Federal Hall, overlooks Bowling Green. Today it is a branch of the National Museum of the American Indian and holds the collections that were formerly the Heye Foundation. It was difficult to visit before moving to the Customs House, because the building was largely storage and had limited display of collections. The museum was located way off the beaten path on 155th St. and Broadway. Now the museum is at the Bowling Green subway stop and the new exhibits show the rich collection of materials from North, Central and South America. I particularly enjoyed seeing the pottery from Costa Rica and Panama that reminded me of the time I spent in Costa Rica while working on my dissertation and how much I admired archaeologist Olga Linares for her book on the imagery on Panamanian pottery, “Ecology and the Arts in Ancient Panama.”
A scary plate from Panama.
“The Thinker” as a rabbit, from Costa Rica
There is also the Wall Street Bull, though it was ass deep in tourists. The “Fearless Girl” statue facing the bull was put in place in March 2017 and was still there.
Just two blocks beyond is the shore, lined with a walkway that is used by strollers and joggers alike. Once you get beyond the area where visitors to the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island congregate, it is a relatively peaceful and uncrowded part of the city. The view out over the water to Liberty herself and Ellis Island are sublime. It’s a great neighborhood.
It is impossible to generalize about Italy. Every region has its own customs, traditions, holidays, food, music, language. We’ve enjoyed our time in Italy this year, seeing many places that figure in the history and archaeology. The spectacular art in many museums has been wonderful to see.There is a cost to visiting Italy. All of its delights are not waiting for you with open arms. I will touch on three areas that have me puzzled, frustrated, angry, or laughing, depending on when I last sat down in a cafe.
The Third World?
Having spent a lot of the past 20 years in Peru, I think I know what the Third World looks like. Why does Italy look a lot like that? They may have some of the world’s oldest universities, and great art, but they have a puzzling ethic that boils down to “If it’s convenient for me, I’ll do it.” That explains parking as an afterthought, double and triple parking, trash on the beach, in the street and burning in the back yard, corruption, rudeness, smoking and a lot of other unattractive habits. Are other people perfect? No, no and no. Do people in Italy that I meet in the store or on the road sometimes drive me crazy with their “Why not? attitude. Yes.
The Environment
Italy is gorgeous. Tuscany has zoning laws to prevent its lovely hill towns from developing urban sprawl. It is clever to put warehouses and highways out of sight in the valleys. People in Italy love going to the beach, they love boating. They appreciate nature and good design.
At the same time, they appear unable to corral their trash. On the beach, people just ignore the empty bottles around them, dropping papers and bottle caps as they go. The result is that even beaches that don’t have many visitors have rafts of empty water bottles, jerry cans, styrofoam, plastic cups, silverware, and plates. There are glass bottles, too, but mostly plastic, every kind of container you can imagine. It seems that people become hardened to what is all around them. We did some great beach combing, collecting beautiful bits of polished beach glass, on beaches that were really unsightly, yet they had plenty of visitors.
Recycling seems like part of the answer, but it is underdeveloped. There are collection points, but there is confusion and people ignore the labels on bins, and mess ensues. Worst is yard waste. It’s not recycled/composted, even in agricultural areas. People burn trash and yard waste in the open, creating smog that covers Sicily. At any time of day, you can usually see two or three fires on the horizon. Smog over Palermo is noticeable, not to mention Naples and every other city. Wouldn’t composting all those clippings from grapes, olives and citrus trees be a goal that could be achieved?
Driving In Italy
This should be easy. They drive on the same side as in the US, the major car companies are there, no problem, right?
Wrong.
Before you decide to drive in Italy for more than a single outing, consider a few things. How much driving will you actually be doing? You may spoil your trip if you do a lot of driving in cities where you need to find parking as well as finding your way. The countryside may not be a lot more forgiving, as roads can be narrow, in poor repair, lacking signs, steep and full of curves. How many hours a day of this can you survive with your good spirits intact?
What about those famous Italian autostradas? They have multiple lanes and high speed limits. Not so. Apparently there are so many groups competing for the income from traffic tickets issued by cameras that they are planted all over the place. Speed limits go up and down constantly and in general there is no way to tell what the speed limit really might be. If you actually followed the posted speed limit over most of Italy, you would drive at 50 kilometers (30 miles per hour) 80% of the time.. Literally NO ONE drives the posted speed limit (except farm tractors). Even the agent at the car rental said “Oh, I have sooo many tickets!” What? It turns out that if you drive in Italy you will have tickets. You won’t know when because they come in the mail about three months after the supposed infraction. They can only be challenged if you are in Italy and I have no idea how Italians cope with the situation. As I noted in a previous post (Life in Campania), most Italians drive at least carelessly if not dangerously. That’s how its done. If you do drive, expect to have at least one accident and it matters not who was to blame.
We should never have let him get away.
My recommendation is: Don’t drive if you can possibly avoid it. Stay in one place, enjoy what’s around you and go on excursions driven by others. That rules out some activities like our trip to a bird sanctuary yesterday where we saw a red tailed kite, coots and huge gray herons. I would miss that, but not the driving. You have to be ready for the inevitable accident, too. We had a blowout on the way to the beach and when I called the roadside service the woman said we were not authorized to drive on small roads (that would include the exit ramp from the airport and our driveway…). We were told to drive to a numbered road, call back, and “Don’t say you were on a small road.” A passer-by helped us get to a gas station on a nearby numbered road. Hertz eventually sent someone to tow the car but left us stranded. We had to get to an airport 90 minutes drive away on our own on Saturday afternoon in rural Italy at a cost of 220 Euros (20 Euros less if we did not want a receipt, so the driver did not have to declare the ride on his taxes.)
That was before the fish delivery truck drove into the back of our car. The guy tried to get away and when we stopped him, he said “It was the guy behind me!” (There was no one behind him.)
Basta! Enough about driving! Don’t get me started on parking!
Other things about Italy
We used the train in Salerno, tram in Florence, vaporetto in Venice and subway and buses in Rome. They worked, except when there were strikes (only in Rome and only on two days).
Phone service is good except where geography gets in the way. Naturally service was poor where we had our flat tire, but in general our cell phones with Italian SIM cards (Vodafone) worked well and were not expensive.
Food is good and inexpensive to expensive depending on your location. We ate as many cannoli as possible in Sicily. Fresh ricotta in the south and fresh mozzarella in the Naples area were really delicious. We had great inexpensive wine, and tried a lot of wine made from grapes we had not run into before, like grillo, and inzolia (white), and nero d’avola and nero mascalese (red). It was fun to experiment.
The weather cooperated. I went swimming until the very end of October. The expected two days of rain per week in Sicily in October only materialized the first week. After that we had sun and wind. It was glorious.
Italian people are hospitable and warm if you know them or have been introduced or have some kind of connection. If you are going to Italy, see if you can get an introduction to your friend’s cousin or your neighbor’s uncle in Italy. Friends of professional colleagues might be enjoyable to meet. We had great conversations with our various landlords of our Airbnb rentals, with archaeologists working at sites we visited, even the eye doctors I had to see. A personal connection paves the way for really enjoyable interactions. However, without some kind of connection you may have trouble meeting people who are friendly. It seemed to me that friendliness is viewed as a limited good in Italy, not to be wasted on random, unknown tourists. (Perhaps because there are so many of us.) BUT, a friend of a friend is still a friend and deserves a welcome. Once you’re on their radar, you will see the hospitality that Italy is known for. I hope you have as good a visit as we have had.
The official name of the airport is Fiumicino – Aeroporto Internazionale Leonardo da Vinci though most people call it the Fiumicino or Rome airport. It’s 21 miles from the center of Rome, about a €40 cab ride. There are also train and bus links to the city. We were connecting from Palermo so we stayed overnight at the Hilton Garden Inn at Fiumicino whose redeeming quality is being the only hotel on the airport staff shuttle. It’s a bit confusing until you understand that it is not a hotel shuttle, its he Staff Shuttle, but it works and runs frequently. The hotel also had surprisingly good food that night.
Our flight to New York didn’t leave until 11:25 am, so we planned to do some last minute souvenir shopping with the remainder of our euros. We wanted a book about Italy with lots of photos, among other things. That’s when we discovered that the airport is not really Rome. It’s not really even Italy. It’s “International Airport,” where the only things for sale are high end jewelry and clothing, duty free shops, and restaurants. Further, the shops are all the same whether you are in Rome, New York, or Lima, Peru. This shift has been coming for a few years but really hit me on this trip.
There is a fold-up paper map of the airport showing the location of stores but no signs that show “You are here,” bathrooms, or airport lounges. You’re intended to wander aimlessly and shop. We stopped at several information desks where we were given vague directions. We were told at one desk that there is no bookstore in the airport any more. We passed three shops selling books after that. We were given directions to the Alitalia preflight lounge by three different people and hunted all along the terminal, finding only one sign for the lounge–outside the door. There are a few convenience stores that sell overpriced souvenirs, so we were able to get a couple of things, but be sure to do your shopping before you get to the airport unless you want a new Swatch, a Montblanc pen, or Tumi luggage.
On the bright side, if you have a layover at Fiiumicino for two hours or more, there is a free shuttle from the airport to the entrance of the Ostia Antica archaeological park, just a few minutes away. We had a wonderful day trip to Ostia from Rome. It would be a good use of a few hours to visit from Fiumicino, closer to the site than Rome itself.
There is only one tiny down side. I was envisioning my cappucino after a morning walk, but our new coffee purveyors said they set up around 1 pm. Maybe they’ll eventually try a morning shift.
Llywindatravels 2026 