About snot, elections, spring and fings

Hello friends, I’ve been a bit brain-dead recently. Was fighting a cold of cosmic proportions and I was (as always) amazed how much snot one relatively small nose can produce. I suppose all that stuff sits in your brain and makes it feel as though every little spark there was has been wrapped in cotton wool and is unable to attend.

About springtime and umbrellas

Almost by stealth spring has come to the southern hemisphere. The Equinox took place around 3.00 am Greenwich meantime in the night of the 22/23 September, and I was up and about at around 21.00 Lima time receiving it thoughtfully while munching on a sandwich and enjoying a nice cool Peruvian beer (they have some very, very good beers here, I promise). Even though that first spring day came in from the cold, the weather is keeping what the word ‘spring’ promises, and we’ve had some rather beautiful days with me here writing away at my desk being offered some spectacular views. (No, I won’t resist the impulse; I shall post a couple of the photos I took only about three days ago.)

 

In Lima, as you probably know, it never rains, and nobody owns umbrellas. What the natives call ‘rain’ is simply a cloud sitting on the ground and slowly spitting out its contents in all directions through the tiniest holes. One would look silly in Lima with an umbrella, but even if you didn’t care about that it would do you no good. That wet stuff comes at you from all sides. Did you ever encounter a cooling mist spray, delivered by ventilators? They have those in tropical and subtropical climes for terraces of restaurants and gardens... A bit like that.

Oh, that cloud with the little holes made me remember a po-im by Spike Milligan we used to like when we were young (!). I quote from memory so don’t get back to me telling me I got it wrong – I probably did. Here goes:

There are holes in the sky

Where the rain comes in

They’re ever so small

That’s why rain is thin

Saved by the (Marmite) bell

Just to lower the tension you must all have felt during the last few months: I have received a 500 g jar of Marmite. It was brought back to me from Spain by the good doctor. He didn’t get in touch with anyone because he was working like a mule AND he wasn’t in Madrid for the greater part of his short trip. He was mostly in Almería and Algeciras and if he wasn’t teaching or in meetings he was doing his magic, and if he wasn’t doing any of that he was dying in sweltering Madrid… it was August after all and most people had escaped the brutal heat anyway. Speaking of Marmite, my dear friend Loretta in the UK, after reading my last lament, sent me a jar which of course never arrived. I would have loved to see the face of the Marmite thief when he/she stuck his/her finger into its dark and sticky content and licked it. I figure that was punishment enough.

More on granny-dom

My guest bed will be occupied in October, November, January and probably February so far.

Not all of the time, of course, there are fixed dates. But it’s wonderful to see friends and family here in Lima. Talking about ‘family’ – you all know that I am the proud and loving granny of my daughter’s beautiful and good-natured daughter who now has a name: she’s called Blossom Belle. On 30 July they made it a double whammy: my son’s partner Saskia gave birth to Daphne, dark where Blossom’s blonde, and with a very naughty smile. Can’t wait to meet her. I am planning to travel in May 2011, again via Madrid, of course.

Lima Walks

A very clever Dutchman has started an activity called ‘Lima Walks’ and instead of telling you more about that I thought that the link to his website would be the easiest for anyone who is interested to know more about it AND the city. For the curious:  http://www.limawalks.blogspot.com/.

I remember that we had a load of those in London. They were usually themed. There was the walk following in the unlikely steps of Jack-the-Ripper and co., or night walks taking in all the haunted houses, parks, murky spaces in general and recalling what had spooked whom where; then there was one of my favourites: the ‘famous pubs’ crawl. No, not the 'famous' pub crawl. Visiting famous pubs. Well, we started to walk and crawled towards the end...

I love walking and I am discovering my neighbourhood on foot. It’s keeping me fit as well as allowing me to begin to come to grips with the geography of the place. Which reminds me: I have to call a neighbour. She lives in the building next to mine, and we met because she saw me studying my internet page with ‘our’ bit of Miraflores on it and wondered whether she could help. We chatted and discovered not only that we were neighbours, about the same age, but that we both love to walk. She is Polish and once upon a time married a Peruvian. The Peruvian is no longer around but she is and we promised to call each other and arrange to walk together. Ok. Shall do that next.

Feverish activities leading up to the election of Mayor of Lima

Lima is in the throes of the election of its next mayor. It’s an absolutely amazing spectacle and keeps me entertained. It started out relatively unspectacularly but the tone changed as did the intensity of the race as we’re coming ever closer to THE date (3 October). Some candidates have fallen by the wayside by now, some for lack of interest and one was kicked out because he didn’t really live in Lima! As far as I understand matters so far you have to live in a town at least for two years before you can become its mayor. Makes sense, doesn’t it? But apart from that little mishap, he did something very Latin American (I don’t think something like that is particularly Peruvian): amongst other successful schemes of siphoning off a little extra, he apparently had a road built that (at least then) never quite materialised, but he built toll booths which earned him around 14 million Peruvian Soles, all of which apparently have more or less disappeared. So now there are two ladies still slogging it out. Both are intelligent and would probably administer the city well. One is conservative and the other what we would probably call ‘socialist’. Here she’s representing ‘THE LEFT’ and may well win, which pisses a lot of people off something royal. So they’ve started dirty tricks campaigns against her and certain TV personalities (call them journalists) take sides and sling more mud.

In the streets a forest of election posters is shooting up. Every morning there’s another one, and the little bits of green we have are dug out indiscriminately to shove in the posts. You literally cannot see the wood for the trees; and not only that, but they tell you absolutely nothing. Nobody says “I’ll steel you blind” or “I’ll build schools” or “I’ll get rid of all those stinky old cars” – not likely. They just say, “Vote for me” and show their very best photoshopped white teeth in big smiles with thumbs-up gestures. Clever, no?

I can’t believe that under their expensive suits the European politicians are that much purer at heart and in mind. In any case, it’s fascinating to watch. Still, there is some excess in the Peruvian  criminal mind: just last night we saw a video from a security camera which showed the contracted workers of a company laying copper cables to provide electricity ripping them all out again at the end of the day to sell them somewhere. If that’s not killing the goose that lays the golden eggs...

Fings

Apart from that things are terrific. Barbara and I went last weekend to the Lima Flower Show  and she showed me Chinatown where we bought a lot of VUT = Very Useful Things for very little. Next week we’ll go to a market called ‘Polvos Rosados’ – I have no idea why they called it that or what it means – to acquire a stack of the latest films at five Peruvian Soles apiece (about 1.50 Euros). Yes, you guessed it. Not quite legal. In Peruvian that’s called ‘bamba’.

Peru rocks

As I wrote in at least one previous missive, Peru is on the up and up. Before I moved here, about six years ago I did my ‘recce’ and loved the place, of course. Now, over six years later, there is a new optimism, people are working, infrastructure for Lima is on the mayoral agenda and most Limeños have a new spring in their step. Have a look at these pages in the FT

http://media.ft.com/cms/4561fa0c-c51a-11df-b785-00144feab49a.pdf

Let’s hope it’s for real. The people here need a bit of a helping hand. They are willing to change.

Talking about infrastructure: they finished the bus on its special lane called ‘El Metrapolitano’. Not everyone is happy about it, and it certainly needs to be revisited in concept and form. But Lima does have its first proper public transport and that’s not where it’s going to stop. In the lives of a lot of commuters it will make a life-changing difference.

The markets are indicatorss as well, they are full of goodies and people. They are busy places and for any 'gringo' exotic l. I leave you with a few pix of the famous market of Surquillo inside and out. Some of the graffiti in Lima are of amazing imagination and quality and I couldn't walk past these without keeping them for electronic eternity. I leave pix of this discovery at the end of the blog.

 

A bit of luxury in La Rosa Nautica

It’s not the best and probably one of the most expensive restaurants in town, but it’s also one of the most beautiful and the setting is a dream. Barbara and I had a day without our men and decided to have a wonderful day all on our own. We even met a little monkey on the way in.

Newsie bits:

• I have been to a wedding and a baptism, to the cinema and the circus (and, of course, the Flower Show). So I am beginning to be as ‘Limeña’ as any other. The circus, Landó, I was told does not just do what any circus does, they pick up problem kids with talent, offer them schooling and discipline and a profession that gives them selfrespect and keeps them off the street.

• I am a bit more comfortable now with my second novel, had a problem getting my head around the ‘sequel’, but by now I have finished more than the first third and have given it a first edit. I know where everyone’s going and what they want to do. The characters have come to a point where THEY very often are telling ME what they want for the next chapter. Curious process this.

• I think I promised you a report on my first Lima winter. It’s been f***g freezing. Not outside, that remains perfectly acceptable, but indoors. Nobody has central heating and consequently I have never, ever been as cold as here. I have to add that sitting in front of a computer a few hours per day doesn’t help. As soon as I move around a bit I’m ok. But everyone who comes to your house keeps their coats or jackets on – and you’re beginning to do the same ‘cause it’s just too too cold. This is not going to happen again. The next winter will see me prepared. I am not the suffering type.

• We are no slouches when it comes to a bit of entertainment. Loads of galleries showing paintings and photography, there is dance (just now a tango group is here) and music – from Bon Jovi to Diana Krall; the Cirque du Soleil is just pulling down the tents, moving on. Don't you agree with me that this Martial Arts poster is particularly macho? Love it!

• Lima should begin to be in peoples agenda when travelling to Peru. Here is the link to a video made by the ‘best backpacker’s hostel’ in all of Latin America. That should give you a bit of an appetite. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rmhdujicPnw&feature=player_embedded#at=97

A couple of nights ago I felt – for the first time since I live here - the earth move. No, nothing to do with the doctor.  And it wasn’t a big, powerful, mind-blowing earthquake (or you would have known about it). Thank you, earth, for keeping it down in size. But even though gentle, it was quite a long-lasting one and rather disconcerting because by the nature of the beast I am a trembling-virgin. Did I just write that?

I think from here on it can only go downhill. So, good-bye for today. I hope to report in with a little more frequency.

To give you an idea how far downhill things can go with my stupid sense of humour (shared by my son), I leave you with a special one which made us both break up:

Why did the crab leave the disco early? Because he pulled a mussel. Boom boom. Till next time.

About Marmite, Time and Lima

I am running out of Marmite. Only an English person (or a New Zealander or an Aussie) knows the far-reaching tragedy this simple statement implies. I know, I know… most of you have shuddered at the idea even to try it. Most of you “foreigners”, of course. You don’t know what you’re missing. You’ve never had a soft-boiled egg with Marmite ‘soldiers’. There you are, that’s why they gave me British citizenship. I had to go to the Foreign Office and swear upon the Bible that henceforth I’d hold, love and honour and give to my children – Marmite.

There is hope, however. I am expecting friends before 2010 leaves us and Marmite is available in Spain! Hark! Ask me where … it’s anyone’s entry ticket. But a distinct possibility is, naturally, that the Peruvian customs people look at it – not only with grave suspicion, but with disgust, and decide to chuck it in the bin there and then.Which reminds me, when Lucho brought in soome pata negra jamón as a gift for friends (for non-Spanish readers: some of the best Spanish ham you can buy, from pigs which have been fed nothing but acorns or some such) they confiscated it saying that they can't let 'foreign muck' into a country which has to protect its hygiene... they were probably immediately eating it as soon as Lucho was out of site - in a country where most pigs live on rubbish heaps. Never mind. Where was I?

Talking about the end of 2010, isn’t it just a little bit scary that we perceive time to pass faster and faster? Time, of course, isn’t speeding up – at least I don’t think it is (even though they had to adjust the atomic clock twice or three times to date and to my knowledge – but that’s nothing to do with our perception and it’s about parts of seconds, not perceptible by us lesser mortals). Since we, the three-dimensionals, felt we had to measure our movement and that of our world, we invented linear time, and linear is the only way we can deal with time. But every friendly neighbourhood quantum physicist knows that linear time is a figment of our imagination and therefore doesn’t exist.

Here is my bafflement (where I hide under my eiderdown in deep and cosy meditation): since linear time doesn’t exist, but it seems to be speeding up, it must be we who are speeding up. A bit like fast forwarding a movie which we all know by now how to do. Once upon a quieter time I looked at it all very logically: when a baby is one year old, one year is a whole life and, clearly, time must pass slowly. When the child is two, it’s already 50% faster etc. So, clearly, as an old biddy I would think that time is indeed racing ahead. But the phenomenon is far wider spread than I thought: young, very young people are now experiencing the same sensation. Do I have a clever answer? Of course not. I have my suspicions. But I invite you, my friends, to comment and tell me what you think is happening... One of my po-ims I wrote about time. Fascinating stuff that.

Not only am I running out of Marmite, I notice that I am beginning to establish roots here. I listen to the local news, see local news programmes on TV (the beauty is that I can also – and do – get the BBC and Spanish TVE and keep abreast of ‘how the others think’.  So my outlook becomes more local, and I can now place Latin America into an important slot in my mind and in my heart. It’s no longer ‘over there’, exotic, full of tin-pot dictators and corrupt politicians and they all speak Spanish, and they exploit the native population, they dance – what do they dance – merengue, salsa, samba, mambo all the stuff that makes the old hips hop.

All of this is true, of course, but for me it’s no longer a sketch with a very large brush, it's now a picture with detail, with variation, with goodness, economic growth, same mistakes made as not so long ago over there (in Europe!), wealth slowly dripping down to those who need it most, people being able to work and doing so with great dignity...

I can now see the differences between the Latin-American countries, tremendous differences which we tend to overlook when we speak about Central or Latin America. And it fascinates me every time more how people, coming from similar stock, develop such different characteristics once the frontiers go up. And how language begins to change – even here where supposedly everyone speaks Spanish! Think American English and UK English, and then think, for example, Mexico, Argentina, Peru... and all that, in world terms, is fairly recent history. What’s 500 years between friends? Spain and Portugal, for example (yes I know, Portugal has more in common with Galicia, but still) – you go over the border and, bang, a different world. Germany and Holland (they originally were even the same Germanic tribes) – go over the border and there’s a different planet.  England doesn’t count here, really. It always was a different planet.

Won’t go on. After all, these are musings. My head works that way. Need to muse with someone to have my wandering thought brought on the right track.

Ok, let’s talk about Lima again then, where I am making my forever home, I think, even though one never knows what the gods have in mind.  After all, I would like you all to put some money into your piggy banks and think of Peru as a more than viable holiday destination. Whether you are the guys who want nothing more in the world than an unspoiled, white-sanded beach with palm trees, where the ‘fried pigeons’ fly right into your mouth (old image from the Brothers Grimm collection of tales – here it’s more likely to be a handsome, barefooted young man who puts a tray next to your sun lounger with a cold beer and a plate of ceviche or steamed white fish just hauled out of the sea), or whether you are more inclined to go trekking in the Andes or the Jungle, or whether archaeology is your heart’s desire, everything you wish for will be more than fulfilled in Peru. It’s a beautiful, beautiful country , rich in absolutely everything, the people are charming and helpful (of course some may help themselves to your purse or camera, but that’s an international problem and any wise traveller knows just what not to do), the American and European currencies still exchange very favourably,  and the markets make your moth water. Ladies, especially the markets where you buy alpaca sweaters, jungle textiles, silver jewellery, pottery and sooooooo much more. 

Where was I – oh, yes, Lima. My new home town.  Looked at superficially, Lima is not a thing of beauty. It is loud, chaotic and gritty and much of its newer architecture looks like huge concrete boxes. It is, in fact, a sprawling desert city with a beautiful Pacific sea front and some beautiful mountains ‘at the back’, and with euphemistically called ‘pueblos jovenes’ (young villages, more like the ‘favelas’ in Brazil) clinging precariously to dusty cliffs. A long ride on the motorway, on the Panamericana Sur, is not a pleasure trip (nothing for the eyes and yet hell to pay if you don’t have your eyes absolutely everywhere).  And then Lima spends much of the winter marinated in a perpetual fog, clouds which have nowhere to go. This winter we had some breaks, however, and, if I find them, I add a couple of pix as proof. Many foreign travellers tend to use Lima only as an overnight place after the long plane trip, just to get rid of some jetlag before they move on to the more exotic destinations in the Andes or the jungle.

 

That's just a bit sad. Lima, being discreet, doesn’t display its wares like a lady of the night. But show a bit of interest and Lima the beautiful reveals the most amazing archaeological sites, pre-Columbian temples happily ensconced between modern high-rises, and there are still quite a few colonial mansions, and quite a few still boasting those famous Al-Andalus-style balconies. In the amazing centre of Lima it’s the Bishop (who else) who has the most elaborate one. Even modern architecture is beginning to take more interest in design.

Then there are the museums displaying all kind of stuff (found or excavated), especially the most exquisite pottery and jewellery (gold and silver), handicrafts… the list is endless.  There are a number of galleries, the more traditional kind and some even with edgy art and multimedia installations.There are various small halls and 'boîtes' for black Peruvian music and dance, jazz, the classical... The mind boggles.

For those who are fascinated by religious processions, we have many, all dating back to the times of the conquistadores, and compete in pomp and fervour easily with their Spanish counterparts (coming from the same Church, of course). And as far as churches go, there are some extraordinary ‘baroque’ churches decorated with the skulls of saints. By contrast you can dance the night away in crowded nightclubs offering all varieties of Latin beats.

Bookstores, shopping malls, private golf and tennis clubs for the well-heeled and last, but not least, there are the restaurants: exceptional eateries, from humble to high-brow, all part of a gastronomic revolution that has been more than 400 years in the making, and is in fact now one of THE items on the Peruvian cultural export list.

So, here you have it. Historic delights and modern chaos, care and neglect, loud and secretive, and even in the poorest streets you’ll find something that you can’t miss if you have an adventurous palate. Lima – don’t pass it by.

From Lima with love, Rosmarie (or Rose Mary)

PS: This time more than ever I'll carelessly 'scatter' some photos into the text, letting them fall like some people drop commas freely over any given text ... (couldn't resist that one) 

 

 

Of changes (and almost a travel report)

First let me tell all those I sadly didn’t call and didn’t see (there are quite a few - whether in London or Madrid) that two things stole the little time I had: in London it was granny-dom and in Madrid a few “tramites”. How can anyone be in Spain and not do the time-honoured thing: sitting in grey offices with a sweaty palm and a number in your hand hoping the others won‘t take all day. Even a really fat newspaper eventually runs out of news and you can’t even wipe your by now black hands on your light grey slacks. 

The little 'beatle'

So-called becaue she lies mainly on her back with arms and legs in the air: my daughter Effie gave birth to the most beautiful baby girl (as though there’s anyone left on this planet who hasn’t heard!) and I was privileged to be able to be there with her and meet the little person who, by the time of posting this edition, may just have a name (Effie quite rightly considers the name giving something one should take very serious indeed – after all, it sits on the personality of whoever receives it for the rest of their livesª! It was a ´delivery from hell’. After 88 (!) hours of labour they finally did a Caesarean section.  But mother and daughter are doing just fine and I am in love. Totally. Had no idea that I would be so smitten, and in the plane to Madrid from London I tried to read, but every so often my eyes would be filmed over with something wet which eventually rolled down my cheeks.  I took about ten thousand photos to have them here with me in Peru to be able to have that sweet little face in front of me from time to time. Effie promised me to update me regularly with new ones. Long live new technology and the Internet.

Bargain-basement granny

What I didn’t know until I got there was the most enjoyable fact that I’ll have two for the price of one.  My son’s partner is also “baking” and it’s due towards the end of July. What a shame that more than likely I won’t be able to be there again so soon. Again, I’ll be relying on the Internet to keep me in photos and videos. 

Birthdays

While I was still in London, my ex’s lovely wife threw big party for a gaggle of April/early May birthday ‘children’ and a ‘meet the new addition to the family’ affair. Old friends met new, baby was showered in useful and beautiful presents and if felt good that a circle had closed.

London

It was a delight to be in my 'home town' again. Did miles and miles on the tube, walked up and down old stairs, no lifts to whichever floor, saw wonderful friends and reconnected with my life 'before'... WELL 'before'. It's changing, as it ought to. It's a living, breathing city. I had almost one whole month of sun. Yes, you are reading this right: sun, and London with sun is magical. There was Nina's little house and her garden, there was Oxfordshire and cats and rabbits and Jane and Martin (and the most amazing wisteria I have ever seen - if ever anything deserved the word 'awesome', that wisteria was it!), there was Milton Keynes and cows and Fiona and her wonderful family - I had a (tiring) ball and Katie and Charlotte, Mark and Marc and family - too many to mention evryone. And then there was THE CANAL where grandmother, mother and child walked to meet more friends. What a discovery in the middle of north-east London. Well, London has always been full of surprises, and of all the places where I have lived London is the most seductive and exciting one.

Madrid

In Madrid I took a nostalgic look at all the 'barrios' I love and all the pictures I didn't take when Lucho and I suddenly decided to mosey off to Peru. With old friends I walked that beautiful city, in Lynda's cosy place I found a haven of peace and entertainment (Declan!) and in Peñascales - in Lindy's new home - I discovered a place where elves may live and Bilbo Baggins probably stayed for a while. Each of her sons now have their own flats, and very much their own they are, nests for birds of very different feathers.

Musings (I have the right 'cause I am olde...)

The old story: ‘the only permanence in life is change’ is so very true. Never close doors, stay on that surfboard and try and keep your balance. I know from my own experience that it can be a very rough ride, and at times it feels as though we may drown. We never do. We just don’t trust ourselves. I promise you: we can walk on water! We’ve been told that happiness is ‘being nice and snug and SAFE’. Well, that’s a lie! Happiness is being rattled and falling into the dung and coming out again smelling of roses. Forgive, forget, give, get... I wish you a good ride on the see-saw of life.

 

Meanwhile, back at the ranch

• I am entering my first Peruvian winter. Shall report as it proceeds.  What strikes me right now is the extreme humidity. Everything gets clammy (yuk), and I am buying like mad everything they have invented to hang and put and squeeze into wardrobes and drawers slurping up the moisture which otherwise lets a variety of mushrooms grow on your favourite pants/shoes/sweaters ...   
  

• I may have waxed lyrical about the subtropical abundance here (and it hasn’t disappeared), but don’t be too jealous. Just now in April and May I experienced the most wonderful early spring days after a tough winter, especially in London where the Japanese cherries and the magnolias burst open in defiant exuberance... that was an amazing gift, another form of abundance, and when you got close, the whole tree was buzzing. The joy of it.
  

• Wedding coming up in July ... no, not a summer wedding, a deep and wet winter wedding. Must dash and get some suitable clobber. Shall keep you updated on that one too.
  

• When I got back, the doctor had filled the terrace with plants. What a home-coming. Must do it again soon, 'cause there is a part that still needs some. This afternoon, defying the wind and the cold (19 degrees !!!), I’ll probably sit out there, winter coated, and listen to the Pacific woooooshing while nursing a nice cold Peruvian beer. Jenny is just making ‘Ají de Gallina’ and one of her salads. There'll be home-made chicha too.Can smell it all from here.
  

• As a last Lima update I can tell you that we’ll soon have elections for Mayor and consequently most of the roads are dug up, taxis have difficulties circumnavigating the worst of the holes – all in order to make us feel that ‘something is being done’.
  

Heard a wonderful  joke on that theme recently and I’ll give you the short version: A US senator dies unexpectedly and knocks on St Peter’s door. St Peter looks through the little spy hole and is surprised because US senators normally don’t make it up there. So he decides the man may choose. He first sends him down to hell to have a peep. The senator is amazed: all his friends are there playing golf, chesty girls by the pools, drinks served, wonderful climate, the BBQs are amazing, and the devil himself is teeing off from time to time. At the end of the trial day he goes up again to what by now he finds rather boring heaven. Very little going on up there. St Peter pops the question and the senator answers that, of course, he prefers hell. It’s great down there, even though he doesn’t quite understand how he could have been so misinformed. When he knocks at hell’s door again and is let in, there is a desert where there was a golf course, his friends are shovelling smelly stuff into big bags, the girls have disappeared, there are some old hags... he looks up at the devil who grins: “Yesterday was election time, today you voted.”

Ok, now you know where I've been - and why. Next time more from Comanche territory (alien shores with different rules)...

The future doesn't exist, all that's out there is just potential. And we are shaping it. So, be creative and shape the good stuff. Till next time. 

Oh yes, before I forget - I have to do a bit of marketing for myself, don't I? Buy this amazing new novel 'COMING UP FOR AIR' by Rose Mary Boehm on amazon.co.uk or amazon.com. Read the latest reviews on Amazon.