Lima is a stark foil to Cusco and the Peruvian highlands. The highlands on the one hand, are largely populated by often Quechua-speaking indigenous Peruvians; the mountains often seem to crowd out the people, and the skies are clear as crystal. Lima on the other hand, is a city of 8 million people by the sea, flat to the horizon (or rather the furthest building not obstructed from view), veiled by smog, and teeming with a mix of mestizos, indigenous people, European descendants, and tourist gringos. It’s a mess of a city.
Lima is not teeming with the typically tourist sights. Interestingly enough however, Lima does boast a largest Chinatown in South America, although we barely saw any Chinese people there, just Peruvian owners and patrons of Chinese restaurants and markets.
The central plaza, also Plaza de Armas (a la Cusco and I’m sure countless other Spanish colonial cities) is large and grand but not altogether special. The Monastery of San Francisco however, deserves a special mention. The church was built in the 17th century, and used to house the Franciscan friars of Lima. There is a stunning sculpted wooden ceiling about a central staircase. Carved in the Moorish style of southern Spain, the ceiling had cracked into several pieces in a previous earthquake and since its restoration is amazingly held in place by pressure. The highlight of the monastery is its massive catacombs. It served as Lima’s first cemetery and is estimated to house about 70,000 bodies! The excavated parts allowed us to walk through what I assume is the shallowest level to see pits of stacked femurs, skulls, and one pit that featured a ghoulishly symmetrical display of skeletal parts.
Being by the Pacific, Lima also turned out to be a surfing destination. The currents aren’t especially warm and unfortunately it is in the middle of the Peruvian winter, but I figured this was a good chance as any to try my hand at surfing, how hard could it be? I promptly spent the next two hours (what seemed like an eternity) alternating between getting tossed around by the Pacific like a rag doll, and swallowing sea water like it was nobody’s business. I still don’t understand how it took me 10 times the time to paddle the same distance to Oscar our instructor. Somehow I managed to get on one wave when after getting up I was confused as to why I wasn’t choking and swallowing water yet. I milked it for a smooth 10 second ride up to the coast and treasured those seconds of peace and exhilaration in the middle of two hours of near drowning.
The day after, we set out to Barranco, a quiet ocean-side community on the outskirts of Lima. The village comprised of brightly-colored Mediterranean style houses and lush flower bushes overflowing over fences from backyard gardens. It was only a 5 minute cab ride away, but it seemed like we were transported across the ocean to a quiet Italian fishing village. Our ceviche lunch here was excellent, and a cool glass of white wine was the perfect cap to a beautiful reprieve from sprawling Lima and the traumatic surfing lesson the day before.
