I left Buenos Aires to join Leah in Lima, the capital of Peru. Leah is a good friend of mine from Perth and also the brains behind this trip. She will be travelling twice as long as I, but for most of the remainder of my trip we'll be travelling together. And (yay for me!) she also speaks Spanish.

Arrival in Lima was more rough-and-ready than in Buenos Aires; the airport is nestled amidst a sea of slums. This is a poorer and tougher city. However, we stayed in the wealthier suburb of Miraflores where hordes of Miraflores security personnel roam the streets. So, while we felt safe in ritzville, our confidence in the state of the rest of the city was left hanging...

Nevertheless, it was well worth looking around. A growing theme in these countries seems to be the ubiquitous presence of plazas and parks. And they're not just for show: you will always find people chilling at the local plaza. Whether it's two little old women spinning a good 'ol yarn on the park bench, couples pashing like there was no one else in the world, a craft market, or an artist being inspired by these happy scenes, plazas are the places to be. No matter how small or poor the town there will always be a plaza. And in the cities, plazas take on a class of their own. Here the Spanish colonial influence dominates these landscapes with plazas encircled by grandiose structures from an era past, while the plaza itself will feature a fountain or statue, a peppering of stately period lamp posts, and a swarm of pigeons.

We certainly felt the plazas a refreshing respite in Lima, especially in Miraflores where every corner has the gaudy flashing lights of yet another casino. However, Miraflores did also have its perks. It is situated by the sea, but is separated from the beach below by a shear cliff. Parks ring the clifftop and there is even an über-chic shopping complex carved into the cliff face with café views that would be enough to turn anyone into a WCB. We caved in and enjoyed Argentinian chocolate; the hot drink had the consistency of liquid chocolate, but tasted less like chocolate and more like malt. Perhaps this is how it tastes without excess processing...

And it was also in the trendy suburbs that we experienced the nightlife of Lima. Through some lucky connections, Leah managed to score us entry into 'del Carajon' --- a peña (basically a bar where local beats are played) that seemed accessible only by invitation... As archetypal naive white tourists, we arrived at the hideously early time of 9pm. This did give us the chance to admire the warehouse interior that was tastefully decked out as country-western, but we were left wondering how all the seats would be filled until the party got kicking a little after 11pm. And boy did it kick! The whole evening was a hyperactive bundle of energy, which was wound through the crowd by cabaret-style hosts. The aim was to have everyone in the place rocking at fever pitch --- including the bar staff, security, chef, and even the super-hulk bouncer who spent most of the rest of the evening looking mighty ominous... They even managed a segment for international guests who were each given a few minutes under the limelight to shake their booty and bring the flavour of their country to the evening. And of course there was also plenty of time for packing people onto the floor for up close and personal salsa-style dancing.

Hopefully you're now all itching to be here, but I'll leave the rest of the story for my next installment. You won't have to wait long.