Last days in Lima and home to Canada, briefly.

Wednesday, Dec. 1
Lynda and Mark are off to Mexico. I bet it is warmer there than here in Lima.
We are very happy at the Miraflores Lodge, especially as Ruben has checked his records and yes we have been double-billed and yes he will give us a refund for the third night that we are not going to use. We can’t pack until we get our clothes from the laundry, so, after our scrumptious breakfast buffet, we walk to the mall by the ocean and do some window shopping. We still have a couple of things to pick-up, but will do it on our way home from downtown later. On the way back to the hotel, we stop by the laundry at 10:30 as marked on the slip. We ring the bell, we call, we ring the bell again, but whomever is working is not wanting to come to serve us. We walk the half-block to the hotel and amuse ourselves until 11, the time she said the stuff would be ready. On our return at eleven, Peter finds the girl next door talking with the hairdresser who has no clients. She rushes in the back and tells us the stuff will be ready in the afternoon. I tell her we have a flight in the afternoon to return to Canada (a little lie, but we want to get packed!) She retrieves a shirt of Peter’s from the drier and shows us that it is not yet dry. When will it be dry? Well, half an hour. So, it is back to the hotel and, finally, at about 11:45 our stuff is all neatly folded in a plastic bag and we can continue our day.
After fitting everything in our littlish bags, we put them in a storage room and head downtown. It is about 15 minutes to the rapid-transit bus that runs down the centre of the highway right through Lima. For the first, and only, time the system is overflowing with riders. We are squeezed onto the bus. Immediately, a man standing by the fold-up/down seats for the handicapped and old, puts the chair down, moves over, and gives me a seat. I don’t feel old, and I know I have some handicaps but they aren’t visible, but I just graciously thank him and get to sit the twenty minutes into the centre of town. This is the only South American city where the men were so polite.
We wander along the downtown pedestrian street, looking in shops but not buying much. We stop for lunch at an outdoor terrace of a restaurant, but only have a beer as our breakfast feast is still digesting - and I have to get weighed on Friday. The trip back is uneventful and the bus less crowded. I take a picture of the rapid-transit station in the central station. It is quite empty, but still the floors are gleaming. I have to use the washroom before getting the bus and it, also, is spotlessly clean with toilet paper available.
We do our final shopping in Miraflores and find spaces where none exist to pack the last few items. Dinner is once again at the Cortez, the little place around the corner. I order an appetizer I think I can share with Peter and it is just okay - a won ton roll with a bit of cheese onside. But, once again, the soup - this time “diet” chicken - is good. Peter stuck with the chicken and a salad. Yes, Peter is eating salads these days.
The “private taxi” which the hotel uses to shuttle people (for $20) to the airport is not only new, shiny, and clean, but the driver is spiffed-up and a real pro as he swerves and dodges through the incredible traffic. It is forty-five minutes to the airport with virtually no signage to get you there. It is a well-spent twenty dollars.
All goes well with check-in. Yes, we will have to collect our bags in Miami and then put them back into the system, but they are checked through to Vancouver. Unfortunately, there is a delay of the flight. We sit is at the gate as the delay is extended. Our two and a half stop-over in Miami is dwindling. Finally, we are all loaded on the plane and still we sit. By the time we taxi out to the runway we are one and a half hours late. Our turn-around time in Miami is now one hour! If we miss our connection, I miss the Leonard Cohen concert that is a once-in-a-lifetime experience for me. Right here I would love to swear, but there is simply nothing I can do so I think I will just go to sleep and hope for the best. I ask Peter not to disturb me for food if they serve any and I’m out like a light until just before we start the decent into Miami. It is now….

Thursday, Dec. 2.
The day we are supposed to arrive in Vancouver around 2 p.m. and I am supposed to go to the concert of the century.
Not to be. Buy the time the plane spends fifteen minutes getting to its dock and we spend fifteen minutes walking to were you pick-up your luggage and the fifteen minutes we wait for our luggage, we now have no time to go through customs and get ourselves back through security to the gate. In fact, we don’t even know where the gate is as we are changing from American Airlines to Alaska. When we arrive at the Alaska desk there are only workers there and they confirm that our plane is gone! We are too weary, and I am to disappointed, to get unset. The staff are wonderful and put Peter through to a lady who spends most of an hour with him on the phone getting us alternative flights to Vancouver. We are booked back on A.A. through Houston and will arrive in Vancouver at 8:05 p.m. if nothing goes wrong. Luckily, while Peter is rebooking us, I get the computer going and phone Patrick on Skype - and get him out of bed at 6 a.m. Pacific time - it is 9 a.m. in Miami. He will contact Douglas to inform him of my problem and tell him to find someone who would like to go and use my ticket. As it turns out, a friend of Willow’s grandmother, with whom I was to go, will use the ticket. I’m happy that this has been arranged.
The trip back is fairly uneventful. In two months, I have left a book on an airplane in Mendoza, I have left my Tevas in Pucon or Temuco or Puerto Varas, and Peter has left his cheap water-bottle on the bus coming into Lima. So when we hear the announcement in the Houston airport for Peter Johnstone to come “somewhere” - we don’t hear clearly - we figure it is something left again. Peter asks at the volunteer-helper desk and they tell him to use a courtesy phone to call the airline. Nobody at Alaska knows what the announcement is about, so we figure maybe there is another Peejay. We have a five-hour lay-over, so we continue filling our time. As I get back from my power-walk, Peter is searching his pockets and he asks me when was the last time we had our passports . Yes, you smart people have guessed the climax! Now another, slightly more desperate and anxious announcement comes on clearly stating Peter’s name and the gate to which he is to report. I am relieved because it is obvious that somebody has found his passport. When he returns, he says the lady has a sense of humour and has told him his passport almost went to Paris without him. That is where the plane was scheduled to go next. We walk across to the bar and Peter has a way too expensive beer.
We are in business class to Vancouver from Houston, so we have a couple of drinks on the flight. We are mellow and relieved when we enter the airport and find Antigone waiting to drive us home. Well, not quite home. We drive first to the New West. curling club to say hi to Patrick, watch a few ends of his game, and then home to a comfortable bed and a good night’s sleep. We have two days in Vancouver before it is onward and upward (or is it downward) to New Zealand.

The Rapid-transit bus stop in downtown Lima.

Peter hits the wall.

That's us ready to start again from Vanouver to Auckland.

This last picture is a gentleman in Lima who is running for president in the 2011 election.

Pueto Varas to Santiago to Arica - Going North!

It is now, Wednesday, November 24, and we have gone from Puerto Varas, our farthest southern point in Chile, to Arica, our farthest northern point.

This time I thought I would try something different. I’m going to post the photos first, then the script and see what happens. This is all a learning experience, and, at 69, learning comes slowly!
On the last post, the first caption for the pictures was supposed to be the “doll” on our bed, but she was shown down farther and it was not our “door“. We didn’t name the doll, but she was company for Spike.

Saturday, Nov. 20
We spend the day with good seats top-floor front, but not semi-cama (leg-rests), back to Temuco and the Holiday Inn.
All buses go through Valdivia, a port city at the coast. It has been hit in past by serious earthquakes and tsunamis, but it looks reasonably prosperous. As it is Saturday, we see from the bus that it is flee-market day. A couple of the streets and side streets are the area for selling used clothes. Something like Alta tension in San Jose! I get a picture of the fruit and vegetable streets. And to think of the lack of interest in the farmer’s market in Castlegar. Anyway, it looks like fun.
It’s funny how every new town is so strange when you first arrive, but we had only a full day in Temuco, yet the taxi ride back to the Holiday Inn from the bus is quite familiar to us.
Nice digs. We eat again from their pre-prepared, micro-waved meals and get to bed early as tomorrow is another day on the bus. I am glad we are not riding the Greyhound!

Sunday, Nov. 21.
Thank goodness we have the semi-cama, big seats with leg rests for the long stretch back to Santiago. The bus doesn’t leave Temuco until 10 a.m., so we have a lovely breakfast and I put together food (from the buffet) to take on the bus for lunch. The colourful Peruvian bag I purchased for about five dollars in the market at Aqua Calientes (Machu Picchu) has more than paid for itself. Luckily, I have a small sewing kit along because it did need a little mending at one point.
I have finished knitting my wool socks, so I can wash and store Cathy’s. A lady on the bus to Puerto Varas looked at what I was knitting each time she walked by us on the bus. Finally, she stopped to ask what I was knitting. I showed her the finished sock and she was quite impressed. She gave me a card for a yarn shop in Puerto Varas, but we never did find it.
We arrive on time in Santiago to wonderfully warm weather. The taxi driver has no idea where our hotel is - it is small and fairly new - so I just tell him - cerca del Mercado Central pero dos quadros mas en el mismo calle, el edificio de rojo. We actually get there!
The nice boy is on duty and carries our suitcases up the three flights. He certainly deserves a tip before we leave.
We unpack the suitcase that we stored at the hotel and, in putting things away I realise that my Teva sandals are not amongst the stuff. I think the last time I wore them was in Temuco or Puerto Varas - as we had cold, rainy weather in the south. I am really annoyed with myself as I will need them to wear in New Zealand and Australia etc.. What a bummer!
We walk to Plaza de Armas and have dinner at the Marco Polo. It was once again good food at a reasonable price. The square is a lively family place on Sunday night. There are entertainers, artists, and the same guy we saw last week attempting to convince a crowd something we don’t understand!
I have a sleepless night as I fret about my shoes and some La Costa stuff. Twice I get up in the night. I send an e-mail in Spanish to the Pucon hostel hoping that is where I left my sandals. Finally, about 4 a.m., I make a cup of mint tea which relaxes me enough to sleep.

Monday, Nov. 22.
I am beginning to feel we are on our way home.
After breakfast, we decide to walk to the Parque Metropolitano. It is probably a half-hour walk, but, again, we like walking through cities. We come to a little street that is the St.Laurance St. of Santiago - all sorts of clothing manufacturing shops. I get a cute black & white top that I put on over my white golf shirt. It has the stylish pointy corners on the bottom. For less than $15, I have a good packing, versatile top.
We discover that the zoo is closed on Mondays, but we take the “funicular”, a 1925 cable car, to the sanctuary of the Immaculate conception and the statue there of the Virgin that over-looks Santiago. It is quite impressive even for heathens like us.
Peter has bought me an inexpensive pair of “lapizlazul” earrings, the blue stones found only in Chile & Afghanistan, and we wander downtown looking for a more expensive - for good - pair. We look in lots of shops, but I like the ones I have and don’t see anything I would spend money on - so I will just continue to wear the nice ones I have.
At Plaza de Armas there is one side where there are arches on the building. In this area, there are fast food, stand up or take-away, stands on the side by the arches (and the plaza) and there are restaurants, side-by-each, on the side by building. We go right down the row looking for something interesting for dinner. I have to choose between a stew - always in the Chilean restaurants - and something in an individual baking dish. I have no idea what it is but want to try it, so I choose a restaurant with an example of it in the window. Peter has a half chicken and I have the mystery meal. (I’ll post the name next time as I forgot to write it down!)
The mystery meal: served in a black, stone bowl, is ground corn kernels that are cooked in a chicken stalk with chopped onions, bits of chicken and spices - not hot but tasty - with surprises on the bottom - half a hard-boiled egg and two black olives. The top is crusty from being in the oven and from the sugar that crystallizes when it is baked. One serving will easily do two people, so I take half “para llevar!”
The downtown outside of the square is very quiet as we walk home. We need to be packed and ready to go early tomorrow, the wake-up call is for 4 a.m.

Tuesday, Nov. 23.
The phone call and the alarm clock blast us awake at the same time. As we are all ready, we are downstairs by 4:30 a.m. The nice young fellow offers us breakfast which is not usually served until 7 a.m. We have coffee and Peter has toast while I have yogurt. For the first time in S.A., we have a taxi that is not only spotlessly clean, but is quite new and the driver is extremely professional. Thinking back, the closest was the private driver we had to the vineyards in Mendoza. There is little traffic and so it is a quick trip to the airport. The places is buzzing, even at 5:15 a.m. The line-up at Sky airlines is not long, but only one lady is working. A few more arrive at 5:30, but it is a full fifteen minutes before they begin to help customers! Now the line really is long, but we are not far from the front, so we are soon helped. Neither of us are over 17 kg., ( 20 is the limit) so the littlish bags have been a good investment.
Out flight is a little late, and is full to bulging, as it stops at Antofagasta before Arica and then goes on to La Paz, Bolivia. We are served a decent breakfast before Antofagasta - I had never heard of it either, but Peter says it used to be part of Bolivia before it was lost in a war and Bolivia became land-locked! As we land it becomes obvious why we are recommended not to bus between Santiago and Arica. The terrain is totally desert. There is not a tree in sight and sand dunes all around. I can imagine keeping the runway free of sand must be a major job with specialized equipment.
At least half of the people on the plane disembark! I wonder what is so important here! Anyway, the load is lighter as we are off. We approach Arica, the most northern city and a major port in Chile. It is still desert! Again, there is nothing but dirt (sand) and dunes as we approach town. You can see the development - and one tall building that turns out to be the government building in the downtown - to the south and beside the ocean. The hotel shuttle takes us along the waterfront past the town centre and it is all quite pretty. There is a high cliff - of sand - which we round to get to the resort hotel. It is quite posh! Shiny marble floors give it an upscale appearance. Although it is not new, it has been kept in first class shape and will be a wonderful relaxing place to be for three days.
Our room looks to the southwest with a large picture window we can open to hear the waves of the Pacific ocean crashing on the rocks. It is quite rocky just behind the hotel and this is home to thousands of sea gulls. They turn out to be so much fun to watch as they zoom around in what seems like some kind of organized but confusing dance. At times they can be a cacophony of noise, but they are quiet after dark.
Our first job is to find a laundry, so we pack our washing and head off on the ocean-side sidewalk for the twenty minute walk into town. We wander our a likely street and find nothing. We ask locals and get varying directions until two come together - one with the correct directions and the second with a name - Roma. It seems a little iffy, and turns out to be relatively expensive - but it is an experience. The old - and I mean ancient - guy who takes our clothes is anxious to use his English. We ask him where he learned it and he says he went to sea. He says he does not get a chance o speak English! I guess not. Not a lot of travellers wander the streets like we do to find a local lavaderia! Anyway, the stuff will be ready tomorrow at 6 p.m., so we will make another trip in then.
At the hotel, the wind off the water make it feel cool, but the sun is very hot. It is so pleasant, I fall asleep in the sun, something I seldom do. I get a sunburn with lines of white where my bathing-suit straps and wrap cover me. It doesn’t hurt, but it does look funny.
Peter chooses to go to the restaurant next to the hotel as the menu seems more reasonable. As it turns out I have the best dinner I have had in South America. Number 81 on the menu is grilled fish with some kind of cooked spinach and a mixed salad. Now I have to choose the fish - so I ask what is local. The salmon is local, but we have the wonderful sockeye at home, so I go for the Reineta. What a good choice! I tell the owner how pleased I am. He offers us an “after dinner drink to help the digestion” on the house. Also, he gives us a coupon for 2x1 pisco sour or mango sour with our next meal. I think we will return on Thursday.
We sleep with the window open and the sound of the surf. It brings us back memories of our first trip to Jamaica in 1986 and the wonderful room we had at the resort in Ocho Rios.

Wednesday, Nov. 24.
The hotel is very busy as there are at least two different groups having some kind of conferences. The spread for breakfast is first class. This is the first time since Peru that we have had eggs on the buffet. Also, the coffee is good. We linger over the third cup each.
Peter has found a place to stay in Nasca and they turn out to be helpful re-a trip over the Nasca lines and with the bus schedules in Peru. Nobody this side of the border has a clue! We walk into town to see if a travel agent can help, but they have no information. We stop at the post office to send the kids post cards and wander up the main pedestrian street. There is a demonstration brewing which is in full swing around 1 p.m. It appears that the teacher’s union is protesting President Pinera’s proposal to force “early-retirement” as part of his plan to put more money into education reform. We pop into a store while the hoards pass down the pedestrian mall.
We decide to try the bus back to the hotel to see how they work. There is no problem and they are cheap, so we will take it back to pick up our laundry in the evening.
I have the fixings for lunch, so we eat in the room and head to the pool for a few hours. We get into the wine we bought this morning. It is hard to spend even $4 on a bottle of wine! What’s wrong in Canada?
We hop the bus back to town and arrive at the laundry about 6:30. In the conversation with the old man we discover he really is old. He was born in 1916! I think that is the year my late Dad was born. I guess work is good for the health. I hope travel is as well.
We decide to buy “ready made” food from the super market for supper . This works out well, as we sit by the picture window at the end of the hall and watch the waves and the sea gulls. Life’s good.
Another statue - this of books.
My finished socks.
Saturday flee market in Valdivia.

Going up on the Funicular.

The cars of the funicular from the 1920's.

A view of Santiago and the two old
travelers.

We are still smiling!






Constructing a new highrise but keeping the old facade.

One of my favourite Santiago buildings.







The entrance to the Bellas Artes subway station.

A mall, with a winding balcony construction, of all hair salons!

Our final shot of Santiago - 4 a.m. and a full moon.











The rie from the airport to the hotel in Arica. Desert!

The gulls in flight.

The view from our window.













The view across the street from the hotel in Arica.

The waves crashing.
















The birds as the sun goes down.

The sun set - November 23, 2010, Arica, Chile.

My best dinner in South America at the Oceano Azul restaurant.

I've already eaten half of it.

My sun burn.

Surfers going to sea.

Paddling out from our rocky coastline.

(There is one more below.)

The picture window at the end of the hall where peter and I ate dinner.

Mendoza

Beautiful tree in San Martin square.

The Plaza Espana.

Young musicians performing on pedestrian street.
The small fountain in the main plaza.

The dust covers the usually blue sky.

The doors of our olf-fashioned elevator in Hotel International.
Inside the elevator.

Bottles being corked.





An over-sized bottle of wine at Lopez.

The waiting area at Lopez.






A truck of wine ready to leave Lopez.

The Alpes with fresh snow.

A few bottles for our cellar!

Peter coming up the steps at Zapata.

The new Zapata building on a Mayan temple design.













Enjoying a sparkling wine awaiting the tasting at Zapata.

Norton's new building.

Some bottles aging, but certainly not being dusted.

The owner's personal supply, well locked away.

This area is for the owner to entertain friends.

Saturday, Nov. 6 - Tues. Nov. 9

Tomorrow we leave Argentina for Chile, so I’ll do the last four days together. Not that Mendoza isn’t one of the nicest places we have been, but because we have done mostly wining here.
We arrive early on Saturday morning, so Peter arranges for our tickets to Santiago while I sit in the sun and watch the luggage. The depot is quiet and nobody seems in a rush. The hostel is clean and our room is large, but our private bathroom is across the hall. What we are not aware of is that our street is the Saturday night party street!
We have received an e-mail from Henry describing the area restaurants that he found good, so we walk over that way and explore. On Sarmiento street, there are not only lots of nice looking restaurants, but a hotel that turns out to be inexpensive, clean, nice staff, and quiet! As luck would have it they are not full. Peter, I know, is already thinking about moving, so, the following morning, after each of us has a fit-full sleep, we check out and check in. It turns out to have been an excellent decision. Thanks for the info, Henry.
We spend Saturday wandering around the many parks and checking on wine tours. Sunday, the winds come in off the mountains! It is the opposite of a Chinook. There is a name for this wind, which I can’t remember, but it feels warm and it fills the air with dust. As the city is filled with tree-lined streets, the place is a mess Sunday night with branches and leaves everywhere. Also, the following day, the temperature drops dramatically. It goes from around 30 C on Saturday to 15 C on Monday. I need a warm sweater for the tour on Monday.
This tour takes us to the Lopez Bodega. It is a very old vineyard, but has grown to be one of the biggest in the area. They only export 5% of their product. They make many levels of wine, from the most common “house” wines to fine, aged wines. Of course, the low-end stuff supports the ability to make premium wines. But, at all the levels, this bodega only uses cork stoppers. Also, they still age their reds in French-oak barrels. As with most of the larger companies in Mendoza, they have vineyards spread out over different areas and at varying altitudes, so their wines can be quite complex. We finish the tour and go to their dining room for lunch. It is four courses and quite wonderful. We start with a pumpkin soup, then a cheese and green onion filled pastry, followed by the main plate of steak with vegetables and roasted potatoes with a tasty sauce, and end with a chocolate pie with ice cream and a bit of sauce. We are ready for a siesta, but we now join a larger group (who arrived for a later tour with no lunch) and visit a smaller bodega and then an olive processor.
Today we are up early for a “private” tour which consists of four wineries we have chosen with the tour company on Sunday, one of which will serve us lunch. Our driver, Walter, is a little late, so we arrive at the first bodega, Zapata, with the tour already in progress. The new building is built in the form of a Mayan temple. It is quite extravagant. The setting is beautiful, with the great picture windows opening to the snow-covered Andes in the distance. The wine is very good, but you have to pay for the tasting. (Which we knew before we went.)
The second winery is the Norton brand. Again, it is a very old company with some 100 year-old vines. They are not as steeped in tradition as the Lopez, but still do consistently good wines. It was recommended that we do lunch here, but it is not included in our “tour” price, but we need to eat so do have lunch. I have a beet, lettuce, cheese, and walnut salad, followed by a spicy roast lamb in pastry main course. Peter ops for the steak with a side salad. Both are wonderful, but, as we have a bottle of wine to accompany the meal, dessert is out of the question!
Our third winery, Alta Vista, is quite a small one, yet the Malbec is the nicest I have tasted, so we get a bottle. I am going to have to resurrect my Peruvian bag to carry it as there is no room in my suitcase. Oh, the troubles I go to for a bottle of wine!
We back out on the fourth bodega, a supposedly interesting owner, but we are both tired - I think the meal and all the wine didn’t help - and we return to our hotel happy.
Unfortunately, when we go to get Peter’s pants from the laundry - our luck changes. Yesterday, when we went to get our laundry, Peter was walking through the mega-grocery store to pick up some water and fruit, when an employee dropped a bag of something liquid into a basket. Unfortunately, the top popped-off and the liquid splashed onto Peter’s pants and hand. When he got to me and showed me the stain, I couldn’t tell what it was but it looked like some kind of grey oil. Anyway, to make a long story short, the company let us bring the pants to the laundry place to see if they could clean the stain, which they could not after five tries today. The Carrefour people found Peter an “almost as good but more expensive” pair of pants to replace they ones that are now stained and unusable. Now it will be my job to hem another pair of pants. I just did the stained ones when we first arrived in Buenos Aires!
We don’t have a lot of plans after Santiago, Chile, though we would like to go to the lake country. I think we will go to a travel agent and see what they suggest. The guide books are not very helpful. Chow!