Peru Day 1: Lima

Ultimately, Lima's a loud and bustling city, throbbing with the pulse of activity. Not quite the vacationer's dream, when you're coming from New York. But all the same, it certainly offered it's share of eye openers.

Doing the typical tourist circle in the morning, we stopped at one of the city's main churches. "Underground catacombs inside" advertised a sign. Neither Delta nor I had ever seen catacombs before, so we decided the day warranted a visit. As soon as we stepped underground, we were transported into an entirely different world, of centuries ago. A world of deep wells, where hundreds of human bodies had once been left to decompose, when dead. A world where people would be buried crushed up against eachother. And bones. Hundreds and hundreds of thousands of skulls and bones.

Morbid, I know. Eye opening. Shocking. But more than anything, just relief that we hadn't been born to that time.

Later that afternoon, we went to the local handicrafts market. Delta and I were intent on finding a piece of Peruvian art with which to adorn our little nest. But look as we might, we couldn't find just the right piece. "Look at these bowls! All hand-carved and painted!" each shop keeper would call as we passed by. But nothing was just right.

And then as we sat down in a beautiful little restaurant for dinner, just between the sea-fresh ceviche and the grilled trout, we exclaimed in sudden surprize. There it was. Our thing. The exact piece of art we'd been looking for. Unfortunately, presented to us in the form of hand-painted plates we were eating from. Immediately, we called the waiter.
"Where do you guys get these plates? We'd like to buy some!"
The waiter was taken aback. "We don't get them from here, ma'am. We order them specifically from our artist in a village outside Lima."
My face must have looked crushed, because he offered, "If you're here for a few days, and yo'ure willing to pay, perhaps I could order some for you. I'll need at least a week."

And so there we had it. The waiter agreed to get us some of those beautiful hand-painted plates, and deliver them to the hotel where we had been staying. We paid him half the agreed money upfront, promising to return to the restaurant and pay him the rest upon our return to Lima in two weeks. A couple of rather fragile promises, buoyed on the optimism of a carafe of smooth-flowing wine.

In the clear light of day, it all seemed rather more dubious. Now that he had half the payment already, what were the chances that he'd actually deliver the plates? And even if he did deliver the plates, what were the chances that we would actually go all the way back to the restaurant, in our one afternoon in Lima? I don't think either of us truly believed the other. But sometimes, for just the right piece of art, those are just the chances you take in life.