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After bundling ourselves into the first taxi to come down the street we began a conversation on what airport we were actually going to - Buenos Aires has two - an international airport (Ezeiza) and a domestic airport (called aeropark) the airport name on our ticket (Pistarini) matched niether however, figuring we were going to Lima we went with the international airport. Thankfully it was the correct airport, for whatever reason known only to Aerolineas Argentina they choose to call it something else. Fools. We also checked in in plenty of time, 2 hours before departure. We were probably somewhere in the middle of everyone checking in so the woman at reception was talking utter nonsense. I imagine check in for the flight wouldn't even open until 3 hours before departure. So checked in, having paid our tax we were then stopped at immigration for not having filled in a form that no one had mentioned, there were no signs for and that were available only from a small non descript desk at the back of the hall. Filling that in to the best of our ability (as the english translation made no sense at all in more than one instance) we were through immigration and in the worst airport I have ever seen in my life. I have been to a lot of airports in my time, but this one had nothing. Starting from the outside (which we had obviously already passed by) it resembles a small concrete bunker reminiscent of a prison, not the shiny gleaming glass buildings with which airports are so frequently fashioned. Inside there was a lack of shops, one small duty free shop just larger than the size of my bedroom, 2 small cafes and 2 vending machines (niether of which worked). Given Buenos Aires international acclaim I was kinda execting something more had we arrived by plane into the country I wouldn't have been best impressed with my first impressions of the city.
After leaving my favourite new jacket in the departures lounge and safely sat on the plane we were off towards Lima. Alas the shoddiness of the airport translated into a shoddy flight (and indeed as we would later discover from further flights, shoddy airline). The plane interior was shabby, cramped, the air stwardesses a bit incompetent, frequently spilling drinks on the floor or people and the food (where you were given no choice over your meal, despite there being 2 meals available) was gross... and pasta, which I dislike. Having not died of food poisoning, 3rd degree coffee burns or cabin pressure failure we landed in Lima a significantly superior airport. Shiny and fairly new we believe, nice big immigration desks, flat screen TVs, automatic announcers providing a number of languages, helpful english speaking members of staff. The fact that both international and domestic flights are served by the same airport I imagine is also ultimately more helpful to anyone with connections.
A nice, helpful, inexpensive and once again english speaking tai driver then met us in arrivals and saw us into his taxi where he gave us a nice commentary of the city and the areas we were passing us we drove to Miraflores (one of 5 upper class areas of town and that most frequented by tourists), He showed us where we could buy a gram of cocaine for US$10 not that he would recommend we actually enter the area... or that we did coke ... or that he did coke ... and also gave us a safety lesson about the city, that you should keep your backpacks concealed between your legs in taxis and not on your laps otherwise people will smash through the windows for them when the car is at traffic lights (I was obviously well versed in the danger of stopping at traffic lights at this point sans sunglasses). And pointed to the general danger of our being blond and my being ridiculously pale making us look like walking ATMs to local crooks.
We checked into a hostel called the flying dog almost entirely based on its name (it was also recommended in the guidebook) and then had a walk to the beach as it was by this point getting late. The flight had been at 11am (ish, it left late) but had lasted just over 5 hours, plus immigration, baggage handling and taxi so the sun was begining to set. We walked down to a nice plaza on the beach,a very romantic setting actually with a number of couples sitting together around a statue of 2 lovers entwined and looked out over the Pacific. At the time I would comment on how it wsa the first time either of us had actually seent he Pacific Ocean, 2 weeks later I would realise I had in fact seen it before when holidaying in Tampa and would feel very stupid.
We had pizza on a nice pedestrianised street just round the corner from the hostel and then kicked back on the couches where Lucy was chatted up by yet another Israeli boy, this one named Rotem, whilst I chatted with his wingman whose name I have now long forgotten. Lucy was restrained however and went to bed leaving them to go to the casino by themselves.
The next morning after breakfast, which they served from a resturant the hostel owned in the middle of the 3 flying dog hostels in Miraflores we headed out on our day of sightseeing starting with Huaca Pucllana which was good in som much that it was free admission, but which you couldn't wander up and around although in my opinion actually more impressive than the second, more restored Huaca Huallamarca, which we climbled to the top and had a little museum with some period pottery and artefacts. There are some good photos of these, but they remain stuck on my camera until I find a new connector lead to get them onto the computer.
We then got a taxi into the centre after some haggling with taxi drivers over the price to the Plaza des Armas (a popular name in South America and one that pops up in most places). For some reason that we weren't entirelt sure of there were armed guards all along the plaza preventing people from actually going in the square and along the sides of the adjacent buildings - it was a bit odd and a little intimidating. There was also some kind of film shoot for a really crappy music video going on around the square involving a fat balding man in sequins and a w****, being filmed on a camcorder, but with a proper band. This was more off putting that intimidating. We had a look at the cathedral (every destination needs a visit to the Cathedral) and the Presidential Palace, which given the number of guards round the square was unsurprisingly swamped with armed guards with massive rifles.
We then walked down their main shopping street, where the stares from locals was far from subtle FAR worse than we'd received than Brazil or Argentina, which at worse had seemed liked a mild curiosity as opposed to people turning around and pointing here, and headed to San Martin Square whose central statue of a woman has a llama on her head as the word llama means both the animal and flames. The city had intended for her face to be framed in burning flames the sculptor misunderstanding plonked a little llama sitting on her head. It looks really funny when you notice it although you do have to look hard and know its there to notice.
We had a nice cheap set menu for lunch that included a nice chicken kebab and altogether only cost us about 15 soles (4 pounds) each for 3 courses before going to look in at the city's monestery, which was supposed to have an ancient and gorgeous library. Unfortunately as it would turn out since the guidebook was published the building caught fire a couple of years ago and almost the entire interior was lost including the library. As an alternative we headed to the museum where there were a number of exhibits on the history of the area from ancient times to recent communist uprising in the late 80s in the city that saw the deaths of thousands. That exhibit was quite upsetting really, some of the photos were pretty graphic. They had a series of photos by a photographer as he was being gunned down. Randomly there was also some woman photographing the exhibit visitors reactions to the photos, which other than being odd I felt was also a bit rude (not asking and all). But the museum was another free activity and was definately worth the visit.
Back in Miraflores we waited in a supermarket queue for literally about 15 minutes (and being 3rd in line) Tescos would not have allowed such a thing and then found out at the till that bakery products need to be weighed at some obscure point in the store (not sensibly next to the products) to get a barcode to be scanned so we had to ditch our croissants. Stupidly it didn't occur to us at the time to ditch the butter too. Anyways as a result dinner comprised of bowls of frosties and some juice, which I wasn't complaining about - I enjoyed it, although I miss proper chilled semi-skimmed milk. And I'm still keeping my eyes peeled for crunchy nut.
Rotem and wingman caught up with us and as we had agreed the previous night we went to the casino with them. After watching wingman play blackjack a bit Lucy and I dragged Rotem to play roulette with us. I lost 100 soles - bad times, but I had decided on going in not to spend anymore. Rotem made no such intelligent decision and kept going back to the ATM to get more money and just covered the board with bets everywhere. By the end of the night he had lost US$400. Lucy lost a more favourable 50 soles. We had fun tho and we took advantage of the free drinks and food whilst playing so we didn't really make as big a loss.
Wanting to drown his sorrows Rotem took us toa club he'd be told was awesome called "Bartini." The only good thing about this club was its name. The club was small, the music pretty s*** at most times remixing remixes beyond recognition of music (and RUINING a Dirty South remix of Tiesto) and the toilets were crowded and pretty gross, the boys was full of guys dealing drugs mostly.
We called it a night pretty early on, around 3am, and caught ourselves a taxi back to the hostel where I was offered more drugs. In Lima I had been offered drugs at every possible opportunity within seconds of leaving the hostel, at the supermarket and on the taxi back to the hostel by the taxi driver. The conversation went thus -
Taxi Driver: You want weed?
Me: No
Taxi Driver: You want cocaine?
Me: No
Taxi Driver: You want weed or cocaine?
Me: No
Taxi Driver: You want weed and cocaine?
Me (getting out of taxi): No! *slams taxi door*
Why this guy thought I would want both after we had clearly established that I was not interested in either individually or any combination there of is beyond me. Although it later occurred to me I should have seen how much he was going to try and charge us if you can get it for US$10. Bet he would have been angling for a vast mark up from the "drunks."
Back at the hostel we checked our emails and facebook (of course) when Rotem returned from the wondering why we'd left so early without saying anything to them. The reason being that Rotem had been shamelessly flirting with Lucy and then started dancing and all with some random bleach blond. He claimed it had been his duty as wingman's wingman to do so. We were highly dubious and left him to it.
Our last day in Lima was a relaxing one spent wandering around Miraflores and doing some light retail therapy, window shopping, having exhausted all the sightseeing activities Lima had to offer without going on a large daytrip outwith the city limits. We had a very tasty, but expensive lasagne for lunch and then went to McDonalds to get a cheap mcflurry for dessert. However, we had to go inside to pay then come outside with our receipt to collect our ice cream from the dessert window somewhere between (and we think printed on the receipt) there was a communication breakdown and we ended up with the wrong dessert. How sucha communication breakdown can occur when "Oreo mcflurry" is en espanol "mcflurry oreo" is beyond me the desert we were given was somethingv hopelessly spanish sounding that I could never have pronounced. The desert woman blamed us waving the receipt at us. We stood unwavering and waited her out. She then began babbling at us in spanish and I began babbling at her in english and then stared her out, letting the queue behind us grow. She eventually gave in and indignantly slammed our correct desserts down on the counter and we took our leave of them.
We then headed back to the hostel for a nap, which turned simply into sleep (a dangerous habit that will develop and grow over the coming weeks) and was woken by Eran (who you may remember as Lucy's first Israeli boy that we went out with in Lapa in Rio). I assume I am dreaming and roll back over and fall asleep. I infact was not and he was randomly at our hostel meeting his parents in Lima.
Unfortunately Eran's timing sucked, being our last day in Lima and the next day we were back at Lima's nice fancy moern airport (still can't get over Buenos Aires' crappiness) and had the best breakfast at Dunkin Donuts that we had posssibly had thus far in South America before catching our flight to Cusco, Incan capital.
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