First published by The Journal Gazette
As I walked around Lima, Peru, on a wintry July morning, right away I noticed the city embodies the tale of two cities.
Along its coastline, beautiful neighborhoods have breathtaking ocean views, landscaped parks, police presence and pedestrian-friendly walkways. The luxury JM Marriott Hotel Lima and the famous Larcomar shopping center mark the area where many tourists safely roam. There’s also the beautiful Museum of Contemporary Art.
But the farther I walked from the coastline into the city’s heart, the more the city’s poverty became evident. There are crumbling buildings, plastic covers on some windows, damp clothes hanging on lines in cold air, sidewalks in disrepair, children wandering, homeless people sleeping in vacant lots, and excessive street litter. My opinion of Lima kept shifting from a nice city to a rough city.
I took the Turibus sightseeing bus tour from near the JM Marriott to the Plaza de Armas, the bustling main square of Lima.
I went into the Cathedral of Lima, and I was stunned by its amazing main chapel and its religious art-filled side chapels. I watched the changing of the guard outside the presidential palace as trumpets blared, drums pounded and cymbals crashed while the guard marched in military step.
The main square seemed to be the perfect place for tourists. There is even a colorful “LIMA” sign in the middle of the main square with the cathedral in the background.
As I strolled a few blocks from the square, the city’s poverty appeared again. I even encountered a street vendor who conducts business with extreme caution. He would not let me pick up a candy bar to inspect before buying it. I suspect he’d been a victim of theft, and in that area, resources appear to be hard to come by. We each held on to the items being exchanged, then simultaneously released one while tugging the other.
Next, I took a one-hour flight to Cusco. Cusco causes problems for many visitors because it sits at an elevation of 11,152 feet above sea level. I temporarily experienced shortness of breath, so I took it slow.
I watched a parade and visited the Monasterio De Santa Cataline. I ate at Paddy’s, which prides itself on being the highest 100%-Irish-owned pub on the planet. Note that it’s Irish-owned – not specifically an Irish pub. I didn’t put that together until I read its menu and I saw it serves lasagna and not Irish stew. I didn’t see Cusco’s famous baked guinea pig dish on the menu. (No, I wouldn’t have tried it if I had.)
Cusco has cobblestone streets and clay-tile roofs. Many people are in Indigenous clothes that show their color and diversity. Street vendors sell fresh fruits and vegetables. One was even selling cocaine. He slowly walked while lugging around a flat wood board that contained tobacco products and candy. He warmed up to his drug offer by offering cigarettes, then gum and finally cocaine. I said no to all.
Cusco also has an interesting flag. At first glance, it appears to look identical to the horizontal-striped rainbow flag that is a symbol of LGBTQ pride. But a closer look reveals the Cusco flag has an additional blue stripe. The LGBTQ pride flag has six colors, the Cusco flag has seven.
I went with a tourist group to Machu Picchu from Cusco using the well-organized Happy Gringo Tours. It picked me up in a van near my hotel, I rode for about two hours, and then I took a two-hour train ride to Aguas Calientes. It is a small and cozy town at the bottom of the eastern part of the Andes Mountains where Machu Picchu is nestled above in the mountain’s slopes.
The slow bus ride to the top was kind of scary. The bus took sharp turns as it climbed on a narrow winding mountain road. I kept looking at the beautiful view of the mountains then down over the side and I thought if something should go terribly wrong, I’m a goner. But the views from the top and walks on the ancient structure made the nerve-wracking journey worth it. I’ll never forget Machu Picchu.
As I prepared to leave Cusco to fly back to Lima, I sat in silence in the domestic terminal and looked around at the other people waiting with me. I was different than them. I am a tall white guy with hazel eyes and speak English. The other people were shorter, had different shades of brown skin and dark eyes and spoke Spanish. Yet with all our differences, I drew comfort from the fact that we were all going to the same place.
On my trip, I saw things that were different from my understanding of the world, and I learned from them.