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.

El Día de Mamá: Let's Walk to the Beach

A non-functional lighthouse atop the cliffs over the Pacific Ocean in Lima

The signs all say that today is El Día de Mamá, Mother's Day on both sides of the equator. The long lines out front of all the restaurants this afternoon say the same thing. The sun and the warm (but not hot) temperatures all say: Beach Day in Miraflores.

Miraflores is an upscale suburban neighborhood within the City of Lima. 

We're not in the Centro Histórico anymore.

Access to the ocean in Lima is very limited and there really is not the infrastructure to walk along the beach. So, instead, in Lima -- or at least in Miraflores -- the "boardwalk" along the beach is up high on the cliffs overlooking the Pacific.

That is Puente Eduardo Villena Rey, which spans one particular opening in the cliffs up to Miraflores.

There is a lot to see on the "Malecon de Miraflores," the Miraflores boardwalk.

Such as this orange thing of modernity:

But once you get close to cliffside, the ocean view is great.

First sight to see:  Parque del Amor. 

It's known for its monstrous kissing statute. 

This is the butt-side view.

It doesn't get much better when you get closer.

And here it is. Full glory. Such as it may be.

But the ocean looks nice from high atop the cliffs at Parque del Amor.

A short walk down the Malecon is Parque del Faro, Lighthouse Park. Which is where we will find: the Faro de Lima.

The Lima lighthouse. It is purely decorative. It does not protect the ships at sea.

There is exercise equipment in many places along the Malecon. Open air exercise with an ocean view.

Then, further down, heading up the coast, is Parque Chino. Chinese Park. Let's see how many Chinese stereotypes we can pack into one little greenspace.

Chinese looking lions guarding the entrance. Check.

Is that a pagoda-roofed building? Check.

Lucky golden rabbit. Doublecheck. Double because you can smell incense burning here.

Pandas. Check. Give an extra check for the cuteness factor.

And the pandas are ride-able. Triple check.

Say is that a koi pond (which is really Japanese not Chinese but who's quibbling?) under the pagoda?

Yes. It is. Check to that, too.

Finally, a Fat Buddha whose tummy is rubbed for good luck? Bingo.

Yes, these all are stereotypes of Chinese culture. But they also are linked symbolically to Chinese culture. And there are a lot of Asian tourists in Lima and a lot of them were resting up at Parque Chino. I didn't see anyone looking offended. So I'm not.

It is now time to descend the cliffs at one of the path openings and head down to sea level.

This is surfer country.

The ocean is cold here because the Humboldt Current coming up from Antarctica affects ocean temperatures more than the equator-proximate location. And the surf is rough. So surfers. Not swimmers.

Well, some swimmers.

But not a huge number for a beautiful day in May. Which, given which side of the equator we are on, means we're deep into autumn.

Lots of people trying to sell me on surfing lessons down there. Not happening. So time to ascend back up the cliffs to the Malecon.

I'm not sure how the physics works, but it is a MUCH longer ascent up the cliffs than it was a walk down the cliffs.

And, carved out of the side of the cliffs in Miraflores is:

Larcomar. An upscale shopping mall. My least favorite kind of shopping mall.

My problem with upscale shopping is the feeling that I don't fit in. I don't share their tastes. I don't want to sport those brands. I don't want to pay those prices. I'm not one of them. But, looking at me feeling like I don't fit in to all this upscalery, to most of the people in the world -- and most of the people of Lima and Peru -- I'm just another face in the upscale crowd. In other words: get over myself.

Let's end on a place where I do feel like I fit in: a Catholic church:

Nuestra Señora de Fátima. Our Lady of Fatima. In Miraflores. Just a little too far inland for an ocean view.