I must admit, at this point, that Lima is really growing on me. For a couple hours yesterday the whiteness of the fog parted and in came the sun and made it a different place altogether. Shortly after I wrote that last blog about the chinese restaurants, I was wandering the streets and I poked my head into a little restaurant with a chalk board in front. I am not sure why I did this, but I am glad that I did because I ended up having one of those really great culinary experiences that people such as myself live for. I must say that the food scene here is quite something. Talking to as many people as I have, I am impressed by the constant pride that is exuded by these folks when talking about thier food. At this particular "hole in the wall" they were serving a set menu, so that is what I had. The two servers were both older and had long pony tails. One was what we might call "a potential sanitation hazard," but what he lacked in hygiene he more than made up for in personality. For me, he invoked the Lord Of The Rings Trilogy. (No I didn't have any gastro-intestinal fallout, despite my concern on the subject.) The other struck me as some sort of quiet protagonist from a Marquez novel. His smile was full of compassion and his eyes betrayed an intelligence inherent more often in philosophers (where do these people hide anyway?) than waiters. At once they brought me a glass of purple liquid that I mistook to be sangria. Then I thought it was mulled wine after I smelled it. It was neither, but similar, in ways, to both. They call it 'chichamorada', and it is a local drink that is made, originally from corn. They add cinnamon and cloves and then steep in it, dried and fresh fruits like apple, peach and piña. Man was this stuff good! I now seek it out! Mine was without alcohol but evidently there is a version that contains it. Very refreshing drink. It was a chilly afternoon so I didn't really need refreshment as much as warmth and that I got in the form of Sopa a la Criola. A flavorful, spicy orange broth filled with noodles, fried strips of beef, ají chilies and onions. Wow, was that good. The second course was called Tallarines Con Pollo Saltado. Tallarines are noodles, and saltado is a dish that they make with all sorts of different meat by sauteing the meat, in this case chicken, with chillies, tomatoes, chinese onions, and finishing with fresh julienned red onions, so that they retain thier crunch and original flavor. They tossed in the noodles and deglazed it all with some dark and flavorful stock and called it good. Wow, that was really good too. They have very soft bread here and you always get more than you can eat. They finished me off with another couple glasses of the goodness and a slice of this homemade dulce de leche cake. Super good. The 'service', if you could call it that in its informality, was really good too with these guys taking turns explaining with pride, how things were made and where they came from. I payed just under three dollars for this meal, and left a happier human being. It really is amazing how good food can make you feel so good about the world.
My host mother here, Silvia, is also quite a cook. Last night she made a chicken dish that tasted almost asian. Sort of curried. She said there are influences here from all over the world. Criola is a style of food that is originally from Spain. You see that all over the place here. Today, after my classes were out, I wandered near the center of town and found this cool little "hole in the wall" place that was serving lunch in a manner similar to a lot of the Mexican restos in our fine city of San Francisco. You walked up and they scooped you out some rice and beans and potatoes and meat. I had Pollo Seco which was basically a long-braised chicken chunk with a pile of fragrant stewed potatoes, herbed rice and an onion slaw. Topped with a dollop of cream and a shot of bright orange chili sauce that tasted a lot like fire. This cost just over a dollar and truly, this may have been the best meal I have had yet on this trip. It is just the kind of thing I like to eat, so full of flavors, sour , salty, creamy, spicy. Yummy. Picture me there in the open dining chairs on the sidewalk watching the cars whiz by and the people bustle about in the middle of thier days...with a big shite-eating grin on my face, just digging the scene, life is good! There is a maid where I am living from the Selva, a region of Peru that is very close to Brasil, and legend has it that she is a great cook...I am hoping she will show old Matteo Del Norte a couple tricks of the Peruvian trade!
The family I am staying with is quite a bit different from my peoples in Buenos Aires. Silvia and Ricardo have done well for themselves and she is an award winning architect so you should see the house they are living in!! It is phenominal. My room is giant and quiet and quite dark in the night when it should be dark. Stark contrast to living on the racetrack in BsAs! She has five children, most of whom are grown and live in Europe and America. One of her sons still lives at home, he is a journalist, also called Ricardo. It was funny, this morning I was fast asleep when I woke up and heard Silvia hissing a whisper at something in the half-light of dawn. I wasn't sure what was going on, my door was open and she sounded a little bit worked up. It turns out that I have a new little buddy!! Her dog, a Jack Russell named Pito, had pushed open my door and made himself a little bed on a pair of my jeans; a buffer to the cold stone floor of the house. She didn't want to come into my room, she being proper and me being a guest in her house, but the dog simply refused to leave the comfort of his roost. He wagged his tail and looked at her like, "what are you gonna do, huh?" It was hilarious. I guess he usually doesn't like strangers but sometimes something occurs between a human and an animal and it makes a friendship possible. I liked little Pito from the moment I saw him. He has character. He is a little macho bastard and for some reason I like that. I don't feel this way about all dogs, even though I like dogs more than most other pets. But this little dude is rad. I was happy that he felt at home in my room.
I guess this is just a mini blog about some occurances of little importance. Mostly to say that Lima, Peru is really frickin cool. I think I judged it a little early due to this damn white sky, and the whole living-in-the-void type of feel!! That still trips me out a bit, but I am coming to understand why people like it so much here. My teacher in my new school is no Guillermo, but he is really good all the same and I am learning a lot here. It is a young campus, this one, and I am one of the first students! That is a cool thing too, they are trying hard.
I want to finish with a little tribute to my boy Chris Whitley, who died two years ago tomorrow, november 20th. A few excerpts of his poetry. These are picks I have made of his words alone. Most of his magic was in his delivery. The words certainly, but it was more how he sang them. His music is an incredible playing out of polarities, often existing in the same short time frame. The pain of the world mixed in with the unexplainable beauty of it. The burden of seeing too far into the incredible void and vertigo that is "the truth". His music is the exacting of zen, the rough edge of his voice conveying, so well, the reality of existence, while his lush melodies swirl around from focus to periphery, following the course of his well stated "bliss to breakdown". My own humble descriptions do no justice. To the average listener of bubble gum pop music his sound would be off-putting. And I must say that I am more than a little glad at this. His stories are for the person who is not afraid to look beyond the facade that we are shown on the day to day...if you listen, and you are intrigued, then you will know just exactly what I mean. If you are not intrigued then you will wonder what the hell I am talking about. I know many who have found this meaning. What a sad thing that he died at such a young age, old enough to sing the blues, but young enough to cling to the coals. Enough of my continuations...
From Wide Open Return off the Hotel Vast Horizon Album:
No time lost for passerbye, lonesome transmission the miles decide
Everyday departures loosen from the land, all the wide open returns in your stride
Other lifetimes may graze your sleeve, the lonesome panorama don't decieve
Faithful revolution blinds you to the ground, in the wide open return you leave
City of God, transverse homes, palace of dust, kingdom come
Renegade weed, vagrant wire, heretic seed, named desire
Blurring lines and burning speed, into the lonesome future you recede
Strained to transvision beyond the laws that blind,
To the wide open returns you bleed...
From the song Living With The Law, from the album of the same name:
Well I come down from the country, find the lesson in the draw
There ain't no secrets in the city, it's hard living with the law...
They got machines and mama I can't figure, the got a romance made for doin' time
Send me out child, running outside, out along a world of crime
Gonna swing my scythe got a hand upon the handle, gonna shade my children ways I understand
Milk the trigger, kill the hunger, staring down this broken land...
From the song Alien, from the album Terra Incognita:
Everyone come out, got shades for the shadows of doubt,
Get blind when it's most too clear, get killed by beauty and fear,
Porcelain face on a steal device, mind of glass 'neath a mask of ice,
Someone is a million years from home, someone is a stranger and is never alone...
Because, everybody knows the alien...
This is the music that made music as honesty make sense. From him I learned the most important lesson in creating good 'art'. "Just deliver a gesture, an impetus."
A postscript: There is this odd young woman a couple seats away from me having something like a panic attack. She talks to herself and lets out these crazy little yips and shrieks from time to time, she fans herself constantly with her hands, breathing hard, and she is driving the guy who works here crazy with all her questions. She gets so worked up that she runs into one of the phone booths, slams the door and has to calm herself down. Whew. I guess we gringos aren't the only neurotic folks on the planet!
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