Ceviche Cart, Corn Dog Cart, Churro Cart: I Picked Two

I walk out of the shopping mall next to my hotel and what beckons? The ceviche cart!

Last day in Lima. Last day in Peru. The day to head back home. Very little actual tourism-ing ever gets done on these last days of vacation travel. And today was not exception.

I hung out in the mall next to my hotel. For the third time in my Latin American travel adventures something happened that makes me very very feliz. I was in the large grocery store and a employee comes up to me speaking Spanish. It's a Spanish-speaking country, so this is to be expected. I respond with my standard: "no puedo hablar muy bien." Translation: I can't speak Spanish very well. And he responds with a question: "Brasil?" I think I look like the prototypical gringo viejo, but I do speak Spanish with a bit of a "sotaque brasileiro," but not enough I would think to be mistaken for anything other than un turista de los estados unidos. It makes me so happy that, although my Spanish is terrible, my Brazilian accent is convincing.

I then went to the park, Parque Juana Alarco de Dammert and immediately was greeted by the ceviche cart. Raw fish + hot tropical sun + street cart with no refrigeration? What could possibly go wrong!

 

I shot a picture of this tree because I think it's interesting looking. When I ask a local, they just say it's a pine. We have pine trees where I came from and our pine trees do not look like this.

Oh well. Mystery to be solved in some later trip.

And here's another ceviche cart in this one park:

Apparently they do enough business that's there's enough trade for more than one cart. Which bodes well for the ceviche. High turnover of the merchandise reduces the chances of stomach distress. But it only reduces it. And I got 12 hours of flying time coming up.

And here's that same species of tree, standing alone:

I was thinking that I could be tempted by the corn dog cart. I saw the corn dog carted a few days ago and the cart had, among other flavors, nacho cheese Doritos flavored corn dogs. I was intrigued. But I did not pull the trigger on my Doritos nacho cheese corn dog that night and the cart was not there. I looked around and the cart was not back today. Oh well, Next time. I thought.

Then:

She came wheeling past me, into the park, to set up business. Apparently there is room for a single corn dog cart in a world of unrefrigerated ceviche carts.

What to do. I also knew there was a street cart selling Peruvian churros (filled with manjar blanco!) across the street from the park. I decided to eat at two of the three carts. Which two? Ceviche? Corn dog? Churro?

The churro was a no-brainer. But the churro was dessert. For the main course, I selected:

The corn dog cart! Only she did not have the nacho cheese Dorito corn dogs today. I snoozed and I losed on that front. So I had the papas flavor, a corn dog studded with french fry bits (sort of like those shoestring potatoes that come in a can, only shorter in length). The corn dog also had ample amounts of gooey cheese at each end. Sauce? BBQ, of course.

The ceviche cart will have to wait for another day.

Back in the Peru Groove

A giant vase in the Parque John F, Kennedy (or is it Parque 7 de Junio?) in Miraflores

An ancient philosopher once said, "The only constant in life is change." I googled the quote and found out it was Greek philosopher Heraclitus, who I would not have known but for googling his quote. But I've known his quote far longer than I knew who said it. And that's as good a lead-in as any to explain why I'm back in Peru groove after only having been here two months ago.

That is the Parroquia La Virgen Milagrosa church right on the walkway that divides Parque John F. Kennedy from Parque 7 de Junio, which otherwise would generally seem to be one park. But they're not. I walked through these conjoined parks en route to the day's tourist destination in the upscale Miraflores neighborhood of Lima.

Anyway, I liked but didn't love Lima the first time I visited here in 2018. I re-visited in Spring 2024 (Peru's fall) and still felt the same: like not love. Then I came back in December 2025. I don't know how much of it was that Lima has changed (and it had) or that I've changed (can't help it) (time is marching onward not matter what I want to do to slow things down), but I now love this city. The food has always been great, here. But now, the city seems like it is not as poor. Crime seems to be down. (I'll probably get hit over the head with a lead pipe tomorrow to prove the naivete of that statement.) People seem more relaxed and friendly (and they were very friendly before). And some other places that I used to like (Colombia, which would include Bogotá, which I used to love) have moved in the opposite direction.

Cool-looking tree in Parque 7 de Junio. So I took its portrait.

Places don't stay the same forever. Nothing does. None of us do. So why should cities in countries? Which is my way of saying that things have moved sufficiently so my like of Lima, Peru, has blossomed into love.

Just a big colorful blue bull in Parque 7 de Junio. So I'm back enjoying this city another time because there is no guarantee that all of things that make Lima wonderful right now will last forever and, even if they did, there's no guarantee that I will be in a position to keep traveling here to enjoy them. So that's my justification for two trips in two months. That and some Delta Airlines credit that was "use or lose."

I'm not let-lagged per se, since Lima is in the same time zone as East Coast USA. But yesterday was exhausting, with getting up at 3:00 a.m. to be at the airport by 4:00 a.m. for a flight at 6:00 a.m. So it was an Eagles day: "take it easy". No letting the sounds of my own wheels drive me crazy. "Lighten up while you still can" definitely was the order of the day.

The day's tourism target was Huaca Pucllana. This is a giant pyramid that it about a millennium and a half years old and, for a long time, locals just thought it was a weird-shaped hill. Then, in the 1970s, someone figured out, "Hey! There's a pyramid under here." And the rest is pre-hispanic American history.

I visited here back in 2018. It's still an active archaeological site. So I decided to return to see if more of the pyramid structure had been, literally, unearthed.

The pyramid and archaeological complex are several acres in an otherwise upscale suburban neighborhood of Lima, Miraflores. Apparently the Lima civilization who built this were sufficiently wealthy to be able to afford such immense acreage in a wealthy suburb.

And here I am. At the entrance to Sitio Pucllana.

This is not a "pyramid" in the Great Pyramids of Giza sense, or even the Mayan step pyramids of Mayan culture. It's a large tiered building that slopes inward as the walls get higher. That's good enough to earn the pyramid moniker.

And even if it is not a pyramid per se, in the mathematical sense, it is impressive architecture.

You can only walk around the grounds as part of a guided tour. Probably because tourists do stupid things. Like climb on steep, fragile 1500 walls in search of the perfect instagram photo. I wouldn't. But "other" tourists would. (I'm being truthful. Walking on the side of a steep cliff is not my idea of fun time. Even if it is only high enough that you would left with a broken neck or broken back -- and not instant death -- from the fall. Correct that: especially since I would be left with a broken neck or broken back and not instant death.)

I had 35 minutes or so until the next English language tour, which was more than enough time to tour the small museum:

Replica pottery.

The Lima people were not the bon vivants that were the Moche people who lived contemporaneously (A.D. 500 to 700), but farther up the Pacific coast. The Moche are known to all of us who still have a giggling middle school boy inside us as the ones who mastered the art of pr0n-o-graphic pottery. The Lima people kept their pottery G-rated and functional. Usually with sharks on them. The Lima people loved the sharks.
 

We will get to that viewing platform once the tour has started.

This is a lucuma tree.

What is lucuma? It's a fruit tree indigenous to the Andes. The Lucuma is a particularly delicious ice cream flavor in South America. I do not know if the Lima people of a millennium and a half ago made lucuma ice cream. I doubt it. Ice cream was probably more of an Inca thing. (But they probably would have made it from llama milk since they the New World was cow-free at the time.)

There is a small garden on the north side of the property growing plants that the Lima people would have consumed (when they were not eating shark) (they ate a lot of shark) (worshipped shark, too) (so they definitely were not believers in the idea of "don't eat what you worship").

You may recognize these little critters as the famous "cuy."

You call them "guinea pigs." We call it "cuy." (The allusion there to the corn/maize TV commercials for indigenous-friendly margarine in the 1970s is probably lost on everybody but me.) I don't believe these cuy are destined for the dinner table. At least that's what they tell us tourists. The truth may be more complicated.

And here are a few alpaca.

No llamas these. Alpacas have better quality wool for clothing making. (Llama hair is itchy against our skin.)  (It also stinks when it gets wet.)

So we reward alpacas for having better wool by shaving them bald and then grilling them up for steaks. Alpaca is supposed to be tasty. Llama meat -- since we on a roll dissing the llama right now -- is supposed to be nasty, tasting like an llama wool blanket left out in a rainstorm.

This alpaca is not sleeping. I apologize for not having the video turned on, but right after I snapped this, the alpaca starting rolling around on his back like a dog who just discovered a big pile of stink. Good times in tourist town.

Time to climb the pyramid.

The spacing in the bricks, which the guide called "bookshelving," makes the structure earthquake-resistant. And this is earthquake country.

And here's the view from the top. Which makes it clear that this 1500-year-old structure (approximately) is just in city blocks.

Because we are on a guided tour, we tourists are well-behaved.

Again, if we had been left to our tourist devices, you know that several of us would be climbing on those archaeologically-significant bricks.

Funeral site:

 

There probably was a mummy in there when this was discovered. Ancient Peruvian cultures mummified their dead. It's a desert thing.

This is a view of Maria Reina church, not far from Pucllana.

It's from a later era.

And the tour ended at the part of the archaeological dig that was the also was the end of the excavated pyramid when I visited eight years ago. There has been no visible archaeological progress in that time.

Is it money? Is it preservation, given that enough has now been unearthed to know what the entire structure looked like without excavating the entire structure? Is the activity now taking place outside of what you can see? Or is it just slow laborious work?

Here I am, looking like a man who didn't get much sleep the day before.

But that look got me the senior discount for admission to the site. I'll take it! I will take any senior discount offered without mixed emotions because a discount is better than paying full price.

Having eaten a big breakfast at the hotel, and having skipped lunch, it soon was time for a big supper. I chose the Punto Azul, a local chain that the hotel bartender said had great seafood. Peru has one of the world's greatest fishing grounds just off its coast, so the quality of seafood is excellent. And the best seafood in Lima is supposed to be found in the Miraflores neighborhood, which is where I happened to be.

I ordered an appetizer, since I did not know how big the portions would be. These are fish wontons. They have some other Spanish sounding name. But they're fish wontons.

The main course was Arroz Punto Azul. The bartender had recommended the Arroz con Mariscos, rice with seafood, but the Arroz Punto Azul sounded more interesting.

The Arroz Punto Azul was described in the English-language gringo-friendly menu as "coriander rice," which I correctly presumed would be rice gussied up with the herb coriander, "with creamy calamari, shrimp and octopus sauce," again correctly presuming that the calamari, shrimp and octopus -- all sea creatures I enjoy ingesting --  were part of the meal and not simply disappeared into sauce. The Arroz Punto Azul was gigante. I should have eschewed the appetizer course. I kept eating my Arroz Punto Azul and the giant heap would not get any smaller.

All in all, not bad at all for a chain restaurant (albeit local chain) in a wealthy suburb filled with gringo tourist loudly talking gringo tourist talk.

Perusing Peru II: After the Caral Tour It Was Lunch at the Beach

A fishing boat plying the waters outside of Barranca. The "catch o' the day" is sure to be fresh.

Caral is 23 km (14 miles, more or less) inland. The drive takes about as long as it would to walk because the road into Caral hasn't been re-paved since the height of the Caral culture about 5,000 year ago. Bumpy is an understatement. You are amazed when you see glimpses of pavement in between the potholes. But I wasn't driving. So I'm not complaining. I'm just ... observing.

Next stop: Barranca.

It is a Saturday. The beach is beautiful. But no one is in the water because of the frigid cold ocean currents coming up from Antarctica.

Those Antarctic current mean rich fishing, but no one in the water.

While the beach itself is empty, the beachfront street is packed. As a beach town should be on a summer Saturday.

Yes, summer. We are in the Southern Hemisphere. Lunch is at the Tacu:

Beach town. Beach front restaurant. Hmmm. What to order?

I know! Seafood.

I ordered the chaufa con mariscos. Seafood fried rice. And for a beverage? Since we passed by field after field of vines of passionfruit (maracuyá in Spanish), I ordered a maracuyá drink. Soft.

There was enough rice to feed a family of six in that bowl, so I picked out all the camarones and ate as much rice as I could.

The last stop on the day's tour was the statue overlooking Barranca.

Barranca's own Christ the Redeemer:

Just like the one in Rio de Janeiro, only smaller. And happier looking. This one was designed by a local artist and the face of Christ is much warmer than the one on Corcovado high about Rio.

And what are those birds on his arms and head? Vultures. Seriously. No symbolism about Christ having first died before being resurrected. It's just that the neighborhood is filled with vultures. Not condors. Those guys live in the South of Peru. Up here, it's vulture country.

Nice views from the top of the hill.

One last look:

And that ends the day of packaged-tour tourism on this part of the Lima, Peru, today. It's a long drive back to Lima but, thankfully, it's Saturday and traffic (generally reputed to be among the worst in the Western Hemisphere) (Mexico City would like a word with you, Lima) (Rio would, too, although Rio traffic may be thicker, the quality of the driving is better) should not be as terrible as it normally would be late afternoon any other day of the week.

Exploring the Area Around Kutaisi, Georgia

Just a small part of the over-the-top Colchis Fountain in Kutaisi, Georgia

No time to rest when you are a tourist visiting a new country on the other side of world.

I'm staying at the centrally-located Newport Hotel for my two nights in Kutaisi.

It is generally a quiet low-key area despite being close to the city center.

The only problem is trying to cross the street.  Other than that, church mouse quiet.

My touring of the Kutaisi is with the same driver, and his translator daughter, that gave me the tour yesterday from Tbilisi to Kutaisi. And will be for tomorrow for the drive from Kutaisi back to Tbilisi. They have family property nearby so they are constantly shuttling between Tbilisi and Kutaisi for needy me. They also have been excellent tour guides, hosts, and general ambassadors to the beautiful and welcoming country.

The first stop of the day was at Martvili Canyon, west of the city of Kutaisi. The above is a small waterfall to whet your appetite -- or should I say "wet" your appetite -- for the bigger waterfall to come.

Martvili Canyon is a recreation area, with boating (but not today) (no boats were running because of the expected rain) (boats don't like water apparently), swimming, hiking, and the general soaking in of the nature.

The bridge was sturdy enough.

This is the main attraction of Martvili Canyon, as far as its waterfalls go:

This is the Abhesi Waterfall. It flows into the Abhesi River. It was at this point that it started raining hard. Who'd have thunk you'd get wet standing near a waterfall?

This was the only time of the day that the rain was coming down hard enough to mess up my eyeglasses. It let up as soon as we got away from the waterfall.

The land around Martvili Canyon is owned and occupied by just three families. They do not want to sell out to the moneyed interests who would like to develop this into something "tourist friendly." It's family land and the purpose of family land is family, not tourism.

 

Since there was a bridge there, that must mean water below.  And, sure enough:

With the rain, the Abhesi River was flowing fast.

But not as fast as when we got to this part of the park:

This is the part where the river goes under the main road.

I did not walk down there because the "path" -- such as it was -- looked steep and slippery:

Others did not share my assessment.

So, instead, the driver who was driving us within Martvili Canyon pointed out a great viewpoint just a short path off the main road. Against my better judgment, I walked down to the viewpoint:

Who am I kidding? I do not have "better judgment" when I travel. I have "this could be my only chance to see this" judgment. So I climbed the steep wet "path" -- barely when worthy of scare quotes it was that sort of "path" -- and was treated to a spectacular view, all alone by myself.

All alone. So if I can't get out, I'm stuck here for eternity. My body never to be found. Just a vague reference to "tourist missing in Martvili Canyon."

Last known photo:

I look like I am breathing in the glorious fresh smell of nature.

Time to ascend back to the main road. I was grabbing onto everything rock that even slightly up higher than the path-bed. But I made it out. That whole "last known photo" thing was hyperbole.

The next stop was Gelati Monastery.

Google was screaming at my Georgian driver -- in Russian apparently for some reason -- that the Gelati Monastery was closed for major renovations. We decided to go anyway hoping to get a few pictures.

The good news was that it was only sort-of closed.

And the grounds were open.

This is one of the building of the monastery complex. You can see the main monastery building wrapped in white plastic on the right side of the picture, undergoing very, very extensive renovation.

The monastery dates back to the 1200's, so the fact that it needed a little facelift was understandable. But why did it have to happen when I was in Georgia? Why? Why me? Actually, in all truthfulness. given how everything has just fallen into place for me on this trip somewhat magically, I cannot complain at all about anything. This just means I'm going to have to return someday (in a year or so) when the renovation work is scheduled to be completed. 

You could at least a little look-see into some of the building undergoing renovation.

And, clearly, the interior space is undergoing renovation.

The side buildings were quite available for photographing.

This is the burial spot for a king.

It is, however, not the burial spot for THE king. The King is King David the Builder, the Georgian King who built the Gelati Monastery among other things. This is a less extraordinary king. I believe King David the Builder is buried inside the main monastery building that is undergoing extensive renovation, but don't quote me on that. I could be wrong. Everything else here is absolute 100 percent unvarnished truth. (Please explain why "unvarnished truth" is so much better than truth that has received a coat of varnish? We prefer furniture that has been varnished, yet we want our truth "unvarnished." I do not understand the language I have been speaking all of my life.)

Speaking of me, as I am wont to do.

Artsily-framed photo incoming:

The massive renovation project is clearly visible on the right.  But it is clearly visible right, left, and center in this photo:

The entire 800-plus year-old monastery wrapped in white plastic like a Christo art installation. Only better than a Christo, since this wrapping has a purpose.

This is the king's meeting hall.

The kings of Georgia were not regularly housed at the Gelati Monastery, but sometimes they needed to shimmy up the hill for a visit. Usually when the lowlands were under siege. Which was not infrequent.

Even though the main monastery building is under renovation, you could poke your head in for look at a small amount of the inside territory:

So let's go in.

Scaffolding and supports everywhere.

But the devotional candles still burn.

Given the fact that the property was developed more than 800 years ago, it is no surprised some of the space is in ruins.

This once was something. Now it's just stone foundational walls supporting nothing.

The bell tower is not in ruins.

Once last photo of me:

And with this it is time to move on from Gelati Monastery:

The next stop was closer to the center of Kutaisi: the Bagrati Cathedral.

This being a Saturday, this was not the best day to visit Bagrati Cathedral.

Saturday is wedding day. Multiple wedding parties were lined up for their time to have their marriage consecrated in the holy cathedral which, I am sure, was even busier because of the beautiful Gelati Monastery being closed for renovation.

The grounds were crowded with a mix of wedding parties and general tourism tourists.

Even this cathedral has some ruinization:

An Orthodox Cross overlooking the City of Kutaisi.

There was traditional Georgian music happening on the grounds. Maybe because of the wedding atmosphere. Maybe because who doesn't want traditional Georgian music on a Saturday.

Time for a quick look inside the cathedral for all the wedding happenings:

I only felt slightly guilty about photographing what is a religious ceremony, but then I noticed all the wedding photography taking place, whether by professional wedding photographers or whether by amateur family members and guests.

So snap away I did, if only briefly.

 

And I did take some photos of the religious iconography inside.

The next wedding party was all queued up for their consecration, so it was time to move on.

Back to the hotel for me to walk around the City of Kutaisi, at least for a little bit.

The star attraction of Kutaisi proper, from a tourist photography standpoint, is the giant, extravagant, lavish Colchis Fountain:

I love it. Many photos taken. Only some posted.

And here's one with the Colchis Fountain with a giant McDonald's behind it.

Because why not?

Behind the fountain is the aptly named Kutaisi Park.

Let's walk through the gate and have a look.

The park is known for the statue of the Sisters Ishkhneli:

Captures in perpetuity in mid song.

It's a nice little park, but it's after 5:00 o'clock and I have not eaten a bite since the morning breakfast buffet at the hotel.

I decided to eat at a traditional Georgian restaurant.

I am not being sarcastic. I am not being facetious. The name of the traditional Georgian restaurant is the El Paso.

Quick point about dining out in Georgia. There seem to be two types of restaurants in Georgia. Georgian cuisine. American fast food. Wendy's seems to the most popular, followed by McDonald's, followed by nothing else. Unless you want to count the extremely popular Dunkin' Donuts as fast food. There doesn't appear to be any of the other U.S. fast food chains. Not even a KFC. Moreover, there doesn't appear to be restaurants of other cuisines. I think I saw one Indian restaurant and one Thai restaurant in Tbilisi. No Chinese takeout. No Japanese sushi. No German biergartens. Georgian and American fast food. That's it. I chose "Georgian."

Keeping with that theme, I had a Georgian beer. The Georgian wines did not seem to be offered by the glass at the Old El Paso.

I ordered the khachapuri, traditional style, with a single raw egg floating in an ocean of cheese in a bread bowl.

If you enjoyed sunny-side up eggs and you like to sop up the egg yolk with your toast -- and you thought that this would be even more delicious if there were a lot of cheese in there -- then khachapuri is the dish that was designed with you in mind.

I also had the khinkali because this is my last night getting to dine out at a choice of restaurants in Georgia.

Tomorrow night I will sleep in airport hotel because of an early morning flight to my third and final country of this trip.

After a very filling meal of two entrees -- all for the low low price of 29 GEL -- which is ten bucks -- for a supper with two entrees and a beer -- Georgia is quite affordable -- I went back to my hotel. I walked out on the balcony. I thought the view was kind of drab, since I could only see a narrow slot of scenery. Then I got to see the full view.

My balcony has a view of the Bagrati Cathedral. Awe. Some.