December 2024: Family Trip to Peru

Heading back to Cusco, the driver chatted about how he is studying English in order to work more in the tourism industry, but he was too shy to practice it with me, and how he’d love to visit the US except visas were very tricky to obtain, and also he was engaged and his novia didn’t want to go. I asked him to drop us off at Plaza Mayor, where we walked around a little, inspected that crèche, refused numerous offers of shoe shines for Samantha’s now dusty black sneakers, and bought ice creams to eat in the plaza. Samantha had a little cup of strawberry and passionfruit with strawberry jelly, and bits of cake, while Helen had a more typical ice cream bar.

Then we went into the cathedral there, which was built using stones scavenged from Inca palaces, and then adorned with art including lots of Quechua symbols, to try to win over the local people (after, you know, they killed all the rulers). But there were some cool spots where they worked jaguars into paintings of saints, etc., and we had fun walking around and reading about the different pieces of art. There was another Last Supper painting here with Jesus and the disciples eating cuy, this one by a Quechua artist, but the cuy here looked a little scrawny and not nearly as delicious or appealing as Juanita. We also used their bathrooms; explored a crypt (?) where eight different bishops had been buried over the centuries, and which was rather incongruously used for storage of a pile of broken spotlights; and watched a group of half a dozen young priests nervously rehearsing for a service of some kind, repeatedly practicing their lines and moving back and forth into their places. Samantha and I both also noticed the priest recruitment signs on the wall seemingly (from their cute cartoon iconography) aimed at kids or teens.

Meanwhile, right after breakfast that morning, Robert and Marcus had taken an Uber across town to the offices of Haku Expeditions, where they were signed up to do a full-day mountain biking trip through Urubamba and the Maras salt mines. They got fitted for gear and set off to meet up with an Australian guy who would be the other member of their biking party for the day.

Marcus loved it all, from the novelty of the experience (he had only mountain biked once in Boston, one afternoon in the Blue Hills, with YES a few years back) to the scenery to the challenge and speed. Robert really enjoyed it too, but said he felt like he was the slowest of the group, and as a result kept getting gravel thrown up at his legs from the riders in front.

After the cathedral, the girls and I chilled in a cafe around the corner for 45 minutes over smoothies and an empanada mixta (ham and cheese) before it was time to go to a bean to bar chocolate-making workshop at the ChocoMuseo a few blocks away.

The workshop—just us, and a Spanish-speaking woman from Colombia, plus a male teacher who was bilingual but used only Spanish because the other woman didn’t speak English—was a lot of fun. We roasted the beans and then separated the beans from the shells, boiled the shells for tea, and then ground the beans into a paste and turned that into hot chocolate.

There wasn’t enough time to get into tempering, though they talked about it, but the girls already know about that from making candy at home, so it was fine when they just swapped and brought out a tempered liquid chocolate and we went straight to forming. They had coffee and salt and toasted quinoa and peanuts and coconut, all Peruvian products, to mix into the chocolates if you wanted, and the bars ended up really delicious. It felt like the perfect way to pick up on a running theme, too--last year we had gone to a chocolate plantation in Hawaii and talked about the growing, harvesting, fermenting, drying…and of course sampled their chocolates, as well as fresh cacao pods, and previously we’ve toured chocolate factories in Switzerland, Dublin, and one here in Somerville, and learned about their process, but we’d never had a chance to go from the beans to the bar ourselves before, completing all of those middle steps.

Leaving there, we bought 15 llamita keychains (adorable little yarn llamas with different colored saddles, bridles, and bags) for 10 soles and a woven headband for Helen for 5 soles (so less than $4 for everything, and this way the girls can give llama keychains to their friends when we get back). Meanwhile, in between the church and chocolate, for us, and after the chocolate, we actually got rained on. Half an hour in Cusco one evening, and about an hour at the top of Machu Picchu, and that was the grand total of our need for rain jackets on this trip. Even our sweatshirts/fleeces saw extremely little use—though the girls and I did wear ours during the morning at the weaving place (after taking off the ponchos they’d given us, because we were just too hot in them, and they felt impractical for reaching over the fire repeatedly).

Eventually that evening we met up with Robert and Marcus for dinner at Hanz, the best atmosphere and service we had anywhere in Peru. Helen loved that they gave each table a small stuffed animal with a name, and the WiFi password around its neck. Robert and I appreciated the hot hand towels, the free amuse bouche (though Robert lamented that it was potato-based: “Would someone please mention that a potato is not a treat?” he said), the variety of fresh rolls and butter, the house-filtered water, and the generally attentive service. Marcus loved the octopus and ceviche, and I also liked the aji de gallina (chicken in a creamy yellow pepper sauce), and we also ordered the excellent Peruvian dessert assortment plate, which came with alfajores, picarones con miel de chancaca (despite its name, not actually honey—a syrup made from chancaca, hard brown sugar from sugar cane).

After dinner we checked out the neighboring KFC, because it’s always interesting to see how American brands alter their slogans, decor, and food in other countries, and walked back to pick up the chocolate bars that we’d made, before heading home to the hotel. We admired the way Cusco looked at night--all the lights stretching up into the hills of the city were beautiful, especially when we were climbing those hills!

In the morning, our last few hours in Cusco, we took an Uber over to the big San Pedro market, arriving there by 7:30. We window shopped around at shoelaces, flowers, and so much more, and we bought some chancaca cane sugar blocks (to make the picarones syrup at home), special round Cuscano bread (pan chuta, a soft spongy bread in giant round loaves baked with anise in the dough in eucalyptus-wood ovens—very delicious!), little capybara clips for the girls, rainbow jello, rice with scrambled eggs, and stir fried noodles with beef, plus 4 mangoes for a grand total of 30 soles, or $5.

Meanwhile, Robert and Marcus split a ceviche and fried squid combo for 30 soles as well, and Robert got a 3 sol cafe.

We took an Uber back to our guest house to collect our bags and go to the airport, where security was thankfully quick (we didn’t have a ton of time, but it all worked out). In Lima, with another Uber, we checked into our hotel in Miraflores this time; I went mid range here with a $200/night Marriott in a central location with three big beds and pillows, a pool, and a big breakfast buffet. We walked out and had pollo a la brasa for lunch at Tori (juicy, delicious chicken, plus excellent chaufa that all three kids preferred to their fries), and then walked over to a big pre-Incan pyramid in the middle of the city, learning about the Lima, Wari, and Ychma civilizations who had used the pyramid at different points.

The tiny museum at the end of the tour of the pyramid was fun both for its great photo op and also for the dessicated frog on display inside (an offering, apparently, to try to get the river gods to bless the people with more water).

From there we walked over to Parque Kennedy, which is known for its happy, well-taken-care-of cats. Helen played in the playground, Marcus got a rice pudding with a thick chicha sauce ladled on top, Samantha got a churro stuffed with chocolate sauce, and we all admired the cats. (Helen named "hers" Ginger.)

Dinner was at a Nikkei place near the park, Shimaya—the kids had ramens and Robert and I split a maki combo, getting one very interesting roll with an olive sauce on tako, another of eel and tuna with pepper sauce and cilantro, and a third with tuna and a chimichurri sauce. Dinner took a loooooooong time to arrive—30 minutes for the kids’ bowls and another 35 minutes after that for our rolls—but it was fine, as we were a short walk to our hotel afterwards.

On New Year’s Eve, we started the day with breakfast at the hotel, first Robert and me alone and then going back up to wake up the kids and have them join us too. At 11:00 we did a “Secret” food walking tour around the art gallery beachy district of Lima, Barranco. Among other things, our guide told us (when I asked) about the parking ticket system in Lima--it seems that the city puts an actual sticker (about 6" in diameter) on the sidewalk next to an illegally parked car, and you need to move your car before someone else comes by to tow the car later. As you can see, older stickers just remain on the sidewalk, and some "popular" spots have a large accumulation of stickers on the ground. Our guide couldn't quite explain why the city doesn't put the sticker (or, as here, a piece of paper) on the car, rather than the sidewalk, but it seemed like a rather head-scratching system to us.

None of the food was things we hadn’t tried before, but all (lomo saltado, causa, ceviche, etc.) were very good versions of them, and the guide did tell us the origin of the name “causa” (women during the war against Chile in 1879, cooking for soldiers with very limited ingredients, making this cold mashed potato cake “for the cause”). And the neighborhood was beautiful, with very cool architecture and colors everywhere you looked.

The coffee place on the tour was particularly interesting as they had three different Peruvian coffees to try, all with different processes or types of beans.

There was more walking around, lots of cool street murals, a stop to the malecon (boardwalk), a trip across the Bridge of Sighs, and a visit to the Jade Rivera art gallery, with some very interesting art.

Plus there were also extremely juicy alpaca sliders, and the final stop at Blu Gelato for fabulous cherimoya, passionfruit, mango, and lucuma ice creams (I had never had that flavor before this trip, and I’m a little obsessed).

We tried to go to the Museum of Electricity, which was supposed to be a cute little museum about electricity in Peru and beyond, but it was apparently closed for new year’s—nothing on the internet indicated that, but at least we hadn’t gone out of our way to get there. The girls also loved this “Spirited Away” mural nearby.

Instead, we went back to the hotel and I took Samantha and Helen to the pool. The pool is tiny but warm and pleasant, and the girls spent over an hour and a half playing and talking in it. After a rest in the room, Robert and Marcus joined us, and meanwhile the weather was warm and cloudy, but not too hot. Also pictured: our three favorite brands of bottled water here, the three saints!

After showers and baths post-pool, we tried to go see the laser light show at the Magic Water Circuit, but that too seemed closed. It was fine, though—Helen passed the time waiting for another Uber by teaching Samantha different dances from the Urban Nutcracker. When the car finally arrived, we went to a fancy Chinese restaurant, Madam Tusan. It was still Peruvian Chinese (Chita), but was more authentic than the vast majority of other places. And it’s just hilarious to be trying to order Chinese dishes whose names are transliterated into Spanish instead of English—we tried to order some sahofan (chowfun), for example, but they had run out of wide noodles.

But we got a “fiesta al vapor” (steamed party combo) with some shumai, harkow, shao lung bao, etc., and everything was recognizable to us—though some things had very different fillings than we might expect. It was really fun, though, and the place was very pretty and upscale and everyone was in a good mood. We also ate a large platter of roast duck with panqueques (o tacos—they called them both interchangeably) and hoisin on the side, and a wanton noodle soup with roast pork and chicken in it, and some fried wantons.

Dinner took forever, but at least it was a pretty, atmospheric place. I opened a big dual language picture book (one of the chatty kinds, with a full 5-6 meaty paragraphs of text on a page, first in Spanish and then in English, and just a small picture at the bottom) that I’d bought—it was some mediocrely-written magical mystery about two boys in Cusco who have to get in touch with the animal spirits of Incan mythology in order to solve their problems, with lots of Peruvian culture woven (admittedly rather heavy-handed) into it, and lots of places we’ve been, and Helen loved reading it (in English). Then I passed it over to Marcus and made him read it in Spanish and talked about reading comprehension strategies for second language reading.

While he worked on that, I took out a set of “story dice” that I’d had for a while and had never used. The girls got really into telling a long complicated story with it. Helen was a little more literal in interpreting the dice than Samantha (an abacus became “then the girl…stopped eating her magical apple and did her math homework!” for Helen, vs. “then she divided the magical apple into two parts to share with the boy,” for example), but they had fun, and Robert and I chatted meanwhile.

When we finished eating, and waiting around for the check and the fortune cookies (in Spanish, or course), Helen and Samantha were almost asleep, but they were feeling good, so it was just regular “it’s 10:45 and I’m tired” sleepiness, rather than anyone being sick (for once on this trip, at least!). So I made everyone go to the bathroom in the restaurant (a big production actually, because the place was about to close so their normal bathrooms were closed for cleaning and they asked us to use a smaller downstairs bathroom under the steps, but we all had to go one at a time, then, and other patrons kept coming up, trying to go upstairs to the other bathrooms, then trying to barge through our line into this one, so there was actually quite a lot of Spanish-language communicating to do about the bathroom.

It’s been ages since we’ve been somewhere that’s not a native English speaking place (Ireland, New Zealand) or else has enough English you don’t have language difficulties (Switzerland, Israel, Singapore—though obviously that is on the cusp of those two categories—or Italy) or else has so little English and also a different writing system and where you basically have to accept that you’re missing a ton of what people say, and resort to complicated sign language and still shrug and barely get by (Vietnam, Thailand, Türkiye, even Greece). Outside of two hotels and 1-2 people who were guides (the food tour woman, and Robert and Marcus’s bike guide), there was really not much English here beyond basic hi/bye/thank you/okay words. It was very interesting!

From the Chinese restaurant, we took an Uber back to “the cat park” (Kennedy Park) close to our hotel, on a hunch that that would be a festive gathering spot for new year’s, and meanwhile I asked Robert to change a 100 soles note into smaller bills so we could actually try to buy Helen a yellow flower crown with a yellow veil, which she’d seen earlier that day and the day before and fallen in love with. Apparently you’re supposed to wear yellow as the color of prosperity at new year’s, but when we started seeing market stalls and vendors, on the 30th, with lots of yellow we didn’t at first understand how ubiquitous this was going to be, and how very much Helen (and actually all the kids) really wanted to be a part of things and and wear some yellow junk—er, precious accessories. We happened not to have any yellow clothing with us, any of us, which was a shame. So we walked around the corner, while waiting for the Uber, looking for vendors, but at this hour at the spot we were at, things had closed and no street vendors were hanging around anymore. Helen had perked up at the possibility of yellow stuff, after dinner, but was feeling a bit dejected about it, until (as we suspected) the car finally arrived and we got across the street from the park and saw a few vendors. So then Helen got her wreath (and it lights up) and Samantha chose a different wreath for herself and a yellow light-up hat for Marcus, and with a bit of haggling we ended up paying 41 soles for everything, so just about $10. The kids put on their yellow stuff, and I had my hair in the connected-at-the-bottom Quechua-style braids (not common in the upscale and touristy part of Lima, Miraflores, where we were, but whatever), so we were all feeling part of things.

In the park we walked around, looked at cats, and followed the crowd to a sunken amphitheater where people had a big speaker and a bunch of salsa-style dancing going on—seemingly unofficial, but all very happily. The park apparently officially closed at midnight, so about 10 to 12, we all headed across the street into the plaza part of the park which wasn’t enclosed, and therefore couldn’t close. We saw tons of fireworks, and people eating grapes at midnight, but disappointingly we didn’t see anyone running around the block with a maleta (suitcase) to help ensure a year of travel ahead. Walking back to our hotel, we had many people wish us “Feliz Ano!” and we saw some guys setting off really quite large fireworks just across the street from the hotel.  

On New Year’s Day, we had a leisurely morning at the hotel—buffet breakfast, some more pool time, sampling four different kinds of potato chips we bought in the supermarket the other day, and then back at the room (we asked for a 2pm checkout) with everyone showered, Helen in the bath, and us all packed up. Our flight out to Atlanta wasn’t until after 11pm at night, so we had time to leave stuff in the lobby and go out again.

First we walked over to Larcomar, a mall built into the cliff overlooking the beach. We had a light lunch at the food court there, though that again took forever even though things weren't overly crowded. We looked down at the beach, but couldn't figure out how to get down from there, so instead we walked back up a little ways along the malacon (past the Paddington statue and a lot of exercise equipment) and tons of street vendors (Marcus got an empanada with yellow sauce and I got an alfajor as thick as my wrist) until we found the main path down to the coast.

It was not a short walk down, and there were lots of other Peruvian families joining us on the walk, everyone holding dogs and babies and bags, and lots of other vendors lining the path. Down at the beach, you can see how rocky it was. Robert and Marcus threw rocks into the ocean, reveled in the fact that this is the Pacific here, vs. our usual pedestrian Atlantic ocean, and we bought a churro and a couple paletas.

I tried to take pictures of the walkways back up and over, but the scale wasn't captured here. It was just back to back people, snaking all down the cliff, then a treacherous crossing of the fast road, and then back to back people once again snaking up the cliff on the other side.

After discovering that Wong Balta (the supermarket we were hoping to go back to to try more kinds of potato chips) and the taiyaki cone place across the street from it were both closed for the holiday, we found ourselves, exhausted and warm but regaining happiness with the proximity of rest, once again back in Kennedy Park. Marcus had another rice pudding, and we all established ourselves on the border of the playground.

Helen ran off to play, and periodically would return and ask me a "how do you say..." question. Apparently she found herself a friend in a nine-year-old girl, and then that girl brought over all her other friends (a hoard of little boys between six and eleven), who were fascinated with the English-speaking girl, and they'd come over and also ask me (in Spanish) "como se dice..." questions, to learn how to say things like "Do you want to play with me?" in English. It was adorable, though Samantha, Marcus, and I were startled the first time the boys surrounded us, speaking in very rapid, slurred playground Spanish.

Marcus said that if he had a couple eleven year old boys to talk with, and a couple days, he thought his Spanish would be native-like. When we had to go, finally--starving and dehydrated and seeking dinner--we sent Marcus over to the group to tell all the kids in Spanish that we needed to go. Helen had an enormously satisfying experience, and was proud of her sign language and make-shift communication skills.

Both our first and second-choice dinner places were also closed for the holiday, but we ended up at Wakamono for giant "Godzilla" handrolls made with two tempura-fried sheets of nori and a wild collection of fillings, plus an Indian fusion rice bowl and some Japanese-style popcorn chicken. Ordering and getting our food were--you guessed it--not fast, but we didn't have anywhere we were rushing off to. Robert bought a couple bottles of water which helped, and we also had an herby passionfruit lemonade drink, and by the end of dinner everyone was feeling better. We walked back to the hotel, changed into jeans/pants for the flight, and headed to the airport.

There were two quick and easy flights, a quick layover in Atlanta with customs there, and then we were home in Boston mid-morning on the 2nd, and back in our house cooking lunch an hour after that. What a trip! I think we all loved it, and we'll miss the hiking and the cheap ice cream and the tropical flavors--and, of course, also Juanita.

 

Go back to web essays.
robertandchristina.com was made with a Mac.
© 2025 C&R Enterprises
Email christina@robertandchristina.com or robert@robertandchristina.com
Created: 1/05/25. Last Modified: 1/05/25.