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.
No comments:
Post a Comment