Tuesday 19 February 2013

Lima... an afternoon at the park



 Who remembers the scene at the end of “Notting Hill”  where Julia Roberts and Hugh Grant are sitting on a bench in a gated park surrounded by an idyllic tableau of playing children and strolling adults? 

Well the “Parc d’amour” on the bluffs in downtown Miraflores is hardly a private park, but the ambiance was there in spades. 

My afternoon stroll meandered towards the pacific sunset on a warm Monday afternoon.  Traffic was light enough not to be obnoxious, the breeze came off the water bringing clean salty air and the Para-gliders were doing a brisk trade with their sails billowing and giddy passengers whooping and squealing.  I sat mesmerized at the efficiency of their operation… self-directed airport traffic control at its’ best. 

I was 80% certain that floating about above the city would be my last days experience, but the line up was easily an hour long and after wandering the Indian Markets the better part of the day my feet were on fire and I didn’t have that much standing left in me (honestly!).  So I contented myself watching the varied human units be harnessed to the front of burley macho-type men and then literally get run off the cliff.  A snap of fabric and down they would briefly and gently sail, to the point when the updraft would catch their eyebrow shaped, parachute lite, string controlled kites.   Around they would float for the allotted 10 minutes, and then in they would swoop for gentle touchdowns guided by birdlike downward motions made by pilots with whipcord-like muscled arms. 

This small cordoned off area was “owned” by these daredevils.

As I waited for the pink of sunset the Hollywood perfect park setting unfolded all around me.  Palm tree dotted lawn laid between the winding bluff sidewalk and the busy street provided ample space for everyday life on display.  Kids playing tag.  Yoga masters contorting and showing the kind of strength and balance I can only envy.  Ropes strung between tree trunks with future tight-walkers practicing their craft.  The irrepressible little yorkie trying desperately to keep up with an Italian Greyhound type speed demon playing retrieve the Frisbee.  Parents pushing strollers, young lovers snuggling, teenage girls trying to get the perfect group fun photo.  A touching scene with an elderly woman in a wheel chair, an ice cream treat tenderly provided. A lone man doing a whole lot of push-ups.  Joggers.  Skateboarding teenage boys.  Mom, Dad and 2 little units bike riding across the lawn.  All kinds of purebred canines being paraded around… including one bulldog wearing a hot pink Andean themed hat. 

What a lovely night.

Finished it off with dinner at what seems to be “The” patio place to eat. 

Before I knew it the time had come to head back to the hostal to pack up the goodies I acquired during my “pass the time” dawdle through the markets.  

Hours worth of dawdle.  A noon checkout at my favourite little hostal allowed me a leisurely morning, but left me with 9 hours to fill before my scheduled cab ride to the airport.  Leaving my luggage at the front desk, and with no particular items on a shopping list I headed off spend the afternoon bartering and bantering.  Colourful typical handicrafts were on sale next to schmaltzy souvenirs and knitted wear of all qualities.  The venders are hawkish, always inviting and cajoling tourists to engage enough to wheedle them out of their dollars.   I spent every bit of cash I had and called it quits only then.

 





And that is it.  Another trip over.  Re-entry culture shock here I come.

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