Spring Beltane Waxing Moon of the Southern Cross
Dinner with Pizarro. Tonight we dined in a residence originally owned by Francisco Pizzaro. It had the family initials in wood over the dining room door. This was an overtop place. Wood carved in many different styles, parquet floors and wooden ceilings. There were cupola’s cut into the ceilings that hat windows and pull cords to close and open. In this dry climate no screens were necessary.
This was dinner with 8 tables of ten people each, 80 of our closest friends from the ship. The candlelight came from small votives on the table, but it was spectacular anyhow.
We had five courses, an asparagus souffle, an entree of beef, sweet potatoes, a large white maize and broccoli. Each course came to us from the left, served by Peruvians in white jackets and white gloves. Our guy looked like the odd man out among a crew of experienced waiters. He grimaced at the task of serving us, trying to make it look right and obviously unsure of himself. I tipped him, probably the only one who tipped a waiter at this meal.
Dessert was a whipped orange affair made from the fruit of a luchma. We got that it was a fruit from a tree but that was as close as we could come. It had a tangy, fruity taste if taken in small bites, in larges ones the sugar overwhelmed it.
Since this is All Saints, the crowded streets were empty of traffic, people at home or lounging outside small businesses, visiting family. Earlier in the day many people went to the cemeteries to spiff up the graves and generally do things I thought went with day of the dead. I have some learning to do here.
Colonial Lima has some wonderful balconied haciendas, often quite opulent, as Pizarro’s old home was. As I sat there, I meditated on the irony of white Americans dining in a Conquistador’s residence, served by indios in Peru.
Driving home the streets had litter on them from celebrations and street side restaurants serving brochettes, or shish-kebab’s introduced from Poland long ago. As Rosa said yesterday, “When you eat in Lima, your are eating history.”
In just over an hour we sail for General San Martin and the city of Pisco, home of the Peruvian national liquor, Pisco, famous for its use in Pisco Sours. Pisco, Lonely Planet says, suffered 80% damage in the 2007 quake, a 7.9. I’m making a foray into the Peruvian countryside tomorrow to a pre-Incan fortress at Tambo Colorado, then dinner at a Peruvian hacienda.
Addenda the next day to the 7.9 quake number. Folks in the Inka Department, apparently supported by international earthquake specialists and folks from the US Geological survey, did a subsequent inspection and determined that this was actually an 8.4 quake. A lot bigger.
The Peruvian government though went with 7.9. It seems that 8.0 is the trigger for national disaster relief and responsibility.
