May 31, 09 by Sergio Reyna
My memories are still vivid as if it were just a few days ago:
“Let us go, Sergio, come with Roberto too. Cesar and Kike are already there, and I am going with Lalo el gringo and Kunta Kinte”, said my cousin Martin as I saw him running away. My brother and I joined the gang just as quickly. We all enjoyed our day-off playing with the seesaw, slide, climbing frame, swing, and merry-go-round.
My recollections bring me back to the playground just in front of the bakery “El Chino” in my childhood neighborhood, Pueblo Libre, near two of the most renowned museums of Lima: the Antropología, Arqueología e Historia del Perú and the Larco Museums (I shall pay them a visit if I happen to be in Lima again).
Time changes and none of us live in Pueblo Libre anymore. Nonetheless, there are still reasons to feel as a kid again.
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May 12, 09 by Sergio Reyna
”I al oro asimismo decian que era lagrimas que el Sol llorava”.
Conquista i Poblacion del Piru.
My watch rang one o’clock when our tour on the double decker bus was over. My friend had to go, and I stayed at the Miraflores Central Park trying to figure it out how I could get the Peruvian Gold Museum from here.
Even though Angamos avenue was at a walking distance from the park, I preferred to catch a van or “combi”. The heat was just unbearable. Once at that spot, I waited for another combi which went by all along Primavera avenue. The driver had me get off at the right bus stop.
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April 28, 09 by Sergio Reyna
I am a real fan of ceviche. In fact, I am a real fan of seafood in general. But my favorite by far is ceviche. Imagine sushi but marinated with Peruvian lemon, and supplied with sweet potato, corn of the cob, stripped onion and chili pepper. A place where ceviche is served is called cevichería here in Peru. As I was told there are also cevicherías in the United States, but most or a few of them don’t use Peruvian lemon but lime so that the flavor is rather different. You should definitely come to Peru to taste the genuine ceviche.
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April 26, 09 by Sergio Reyna
Deisy and I had to run in order to catch the double decker bus.
“Double decker bus in Lima, like in London?”, I asked her when she told me about it.
“Oh, yeah! Open-top double decker buses, indeed”.
“Then, we should go for it as soon as possible”.
“Chévere!”, she called out joyfully.
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April 11, 09 by Sergio Reyna
I could hear the cathedral’s bells tolling as I was about to spot the Nazarenas square walking down Pumacurco street, just three blocks away from the main square in Qosqo.
Darkness still spread over the city as it was 5:30 am. Dozens of silhouettes were loomed by the morning twilight. Men, women and even kids were heading for the cathedral. Like me, most of them wore shawls and wool caps since it was rather cold out here.
There were women by the façade selling white candles and incense. Most worshipers held light green crosses made of palm branches. A few people bought them at that moment from street vendors. A girl showed me a small cross made of a plant called “chonta”. She told me I might hang it on the back of my door so that evil energy would be defeated. This cross was trimmed with dollars notes, maize, and “huayruro”, a kind of red bean, all of them aimed to bring luck and fortune.
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April 01, 09 by Sergio Reyna
My feet are fastened on the surfboard. My arms move vigorously, and I can sense the balance just in the middle of my body. My waist and hip turn smoothly and quickly in order to face the big swells. I ride left and right breaks and barrels. Just before the moving ridges batter its pointbreak on the shore, I plunge in the water. Sergio, the instructor, cries out to me: “great, now, go on”. “Sure thing”, I shout at the top of my lungs.
I lift my head from bed when my cell alarm fires off at half past five in the morning. Somebody claims dreams come true?
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March 24, 09 by Sergio Reyna
“To the left, Sergio, to the left! , what are you doing? , the foam is going to screw you up, man…to the left!”
I hardly hear him. He is out there, but I am not able to see him. I barely tell the contrast between the dark blue sea and the white horizontal line which is growing higher and nearer. Pulling my arms with strength, I feel my shoulders ache. “I am gonna make it, yes, yes, come on, man!”.
I am dead wrong. The wave is just above me, and my board is not straight to the wall of water, but sideways, so there isn´t any hope for me. I hold the board tightly when the foam embraces me with such force that it makes me spin, and I lose grid of my board. I just disappear under the cold water.
After seconds which seems to be a lifetime, my head gets off the water. I gasp and cough. Naively, I swim towards the board instead of pulling the line or cord attached to my ankle, but it is too late: another wave. ¡Splash!
For God’s sake, what am I doing here?
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March 19, 09 by Sergio Reyna
Lima, february the 19th, 1564. A man is about to die.
It is a warm summer after midnight, and a masked man is getting down a stepladder from a balcony. Suddenly the stepladder breaks, and the man falls to the ground. Five neighbors come over and start beating the man. When a sixth neighbor arrives, the man is already dead. The man´s name: Diego Lopez de Zuñiga.
This would have been another love affair story, but the man was the count of Nieva, fourth viceroy of Peru. The story appears in the “Tradiciones Peruanas”, written by the Peruvian author Ricardo Palma.
Balconies were silent witnesses of this kind of stories during much of the Spaniard colonial period in most of Peru, but especially in Lima.
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February 27, 09 by Sergio Reyna
My flight to Lima was due at 7:35am, february the 24th. I had to be at the airport one hour before, but I left my bedroom at 6:40am. I didn’t want to lose my flight! The Choquechaca street was wet, and the sky was cloudy because it rained at night. It was a cold morning, and I felt it as I only wore a couple of BVDs, one T-shirt, a couple of shirt-sleeves and a light coat. My boots and black jean were tidy. I only carried a black rucksack.
I asked a public transportation driver how long it’d take to the airport. He replied it was about twenty minutes. No way! It seemed that taxi drivers smelt i was in a hurry as they wanted to charge me six and even seven nuevos soles. That would be the price you must pay if it is a pick-up service. I realized my mistake and instead of asking to take me to the airport, I said that I wanted to get down just in front of the airport where, I remembered, there are some blocks of houses. Four soles, one driver told me. Got it! Gotcha!
At that early hour, the taxi only took nine minutes to get there. As I didn’t want to sound as a liar, I walked to the right rather than to the left after getting down the taxi. I had some minutes to spare so, just as quickly, I headed for the very cliff of the river Huatanay half block away from the avenue. I took advantage of my loniless to “picchar”(suck in quechua) my last coca leaves. !Oh, coquita leaves, please, let me have a good flight! My boots and jean got dirty due to the mud and the dew from the flowers on my way. Nevermind, i am going to be in Lima soon. Soon? Read the rest of this entry »
February 05, 09 by Sergio Reyna
Upon arrival on Capachica you notice how the colors of the lake are reflected in the nut-brown faces of the people of the highlands. These quechua spoken people still live in adobe brick cottages with totora reed roofs. You can choose to overnight at one of these huts or at the camp site in Santa Maria or Llachón. Then another different experience is about to begin: getting in touch with Capachica´s peoples.
As you walk by the village, you surely encounter local people and the first thing you can’t help realizing is how men and women usually dress themselves. Their attires are typical and special. Single men wear red and white tightly woven woolen caps whereas married men use red hats. In addition to this, men always wear roughly spun white shirts, thick calf-length black pants and elegant-looking waistcoats woven by their women. On the other side, women are embellished by colorful headdresses, delicately embroidered blouses and many-layered skirts.
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