How low can you go?

Bargaining, it has never been my forte. For starters, I'm not that big a shopper in the first place. Usually if I'm buying something, it's because I really want it (and can afford it), or because I need it. Secondly, I've never been to places where you bargain your transport, only where you could haggle a bit on your tourist t-shirt or that tea porcelain you will never use again. But Peru would be different, I would pull an effort this time.

If you're in a hurry or you just have to go a long way and you have absolutely no clue which buses to take (and no, there's no bus map or anything even remotely similar that you could use), the easiest option is taking a cab. If not one out of two, then certainly one out of three cars is a taxi. Big or small, white and yellow, with a big sign on their roof or just a sticker with 'taxi' on their window - but all old and rusty. Oh, and none has a meter. You just have to bargain your fare before getting in the cab. I usually ask some Peruvian I know how much the ride should cost more or less, so that I have my bargaining target. Gringo as I am, they'll overcharge 9 out of 10 times anyways.

The good thing about this horde of cab drivers is free market competition. If you don't like the sound of 10 soles, then the next one may offer you the same ride for 8 instead (and they'll cue up, no worries). That makes it a funny challenge to grab a cab, but it also makes you forget the economic reality of some if not most of those cabbies.

The other day, we were taking a cab with four people on a ride that we could have got for 8 soles (roughly 2 Euro/2.8 USD), but we were offered it for 10. So the bargaining game started, but the old man just wouldn't go under 9 soles - despite our well founded argument that you can't easily divide 9 by four, 8 would make a much better figure.

As it turned out, the old man was driving most of the year 7 days a week ("The few days I take off, my wife terrorises me"). His 32 year old daughter inherited from her mother schizophrenia, but in a more severe form. He had both a picture of his family and a list of all the drugs she has to take daily. Everything he earns goes to help his daughter, he loves her incredibly much. "Whether she'll get better or not, lies in God's hands."

It makes you think - how low can you go?

Miraflores sunset when leaving the office (c) Tom Van den Steen

Renting a room

Although I'm very happy with the hostel where I'm staying now, I wouldn't mind moving in into a house or an apartment shared with other people. Knowing that you'll be staying in such a place for a few months makes it easier to make the place your own. So I was very happy when a friend of a friend told me that she was moving in into a house that her parents had just bought and that she was looking for housemates.

"It's a bit out of the centre, but easily reachable by bus, so don't worry", she told me. Off we went, by bus, and half an hour later we reached a very nice house, it had a garden and all. Very spacious, nice wooden floors - I was sold (or so I thought)! Her parents happened to be in town as well, so I said to my friend that I wouldn't mind coming over to her place and have a chat with them, to reassure them that I'm not a "descuartizador" - someone who slices people and throws the pieces away in different places [those who had the pleasure of listen to my story about 'belgian' fries, the New Orleans pre-1900 mob slang verb 'to french' should come spontaneously to your mind.. ;-)].

There I was, sitting on the couch and waiting for her mum - the big chief - to arrive. "So, what brings you to Peru?", she asked. We chit-chatted for a while about who we were, what I was doing here, about my friend's family, very Sunday afternoon-like. And then, out of the blue: "So, you're interested in a room, right? Well, the room goes at 400 S/. per month, and of course you'll have to pay the gas/elec-bills on top of that." Sure thing, that's what we had agreed on before. "Oh, and do you smoke? 'coz I don't stand people who smoke." Lucky me I do not... "Good, good, otherwise I wouldn't have rented you the room."

Fieuw, we could continue our Sunday afternoon conversation - what have I done so far here, what places are nice to visit etc. Half an hour later, again, completely out of the blue: "By the way, you'll gonna have to pay two months' rent as a deposit and I'd like one month's rent in advance." Sounds fair to me, no objections there. "Oh, and are you religious, do you believe in God?" Renting a room is always an interesting experience...

Barranco beach with a view on Miraflores (c) Tom Van den Steen

You're free to pass

welcome to La Oroya (c) Tom Van den Steen

Last week I went with a few people from the Peruvian ngo CooperAcción and a group of Swedes from the christian-based organisation Diakonia to La Oroya (3750m). Now, the name may not ring a bell, but the city is the metallurgic capital of Latin America. Exciting, one might say, daydreaming about the sheer amount of economic activity and prosperity this company generates.

Alas, the reality is quite different. For over a century of mining and metallurgic industrial activities leave their mark on a community and its environment. Surprisingly, only 13 years ago did the first scientific research take place in the city, following an initiative of CooperAcción, to examine the people's state of health. The results were stunning: : over 90% of the children have an amount of lead in their blood that exceeds up to four times the maxima set by the government and the World Health Organisation. And this is just the top of the iceberg...

I'll be dropping more facts about that region later on. For now I'll leave you with the following picture:

'right-to-passage' boundary (c) Tom Van den Steen

On the winding road from Lima to La Oroya, passing 4818m, we encountered various signs saying '(este es el) limite del derecho de via'. I have no clue what the correct legal term is in English, but it should be something like 'the right to passage'. As almost 19% of the country is in the hands of mining companies that have been granted concessions to explore and exploit the natural resources in the area of their concession. Apparently, this also means that the national roads have become private, and therefore mining companies are granting you 'the right to passage'...

The last Inca...

... lives in my hostel! Unfortunately not for long anymore. We did spend a jolly few weeks together, I must say. He's been my 'Peruvian' master - showing me around and teaching me the basics of how to become a Peruvian instead of showing off my gringo-ness. Actually, señor Lupo, a retired veterinarian, has been living in the US for the past 50 years. But he's stayed Peruvian in his heart, and as a sun from the Andes highlands he prides himself of his Inca-roots.

The first weekend we went all around Miraflores, one of Lima's fanciest and safest districts, tasting food and drinks at gastronomic festivals, indulging our stomachs with tropical fruit, chirimoya (s.Lupo: "oh, this fruit is one of the best there is; it's like sex - once you've tasted it, you only want to have more of it!"), cebiche, tamales, anticuchos (s. Lupo: "oh, this dish, it's like sex - once you've tasted it, you only want to have more of it!"), picarones and many more Peruvian delicacies. Truth be said - I want more of it!

Life in Peru can be quite hard, you know. Here's what we had to endure on a Sunday afternoon, sitting on a terrace with a cold Cusqueña - the best Peruvian beer there is according to s.Lupo:

view from the miradora in Barranco, (c) Tom Van den Steen

Saludos calorosos de Lima

¡Hola amig@s! Here I go, with a second attempt at keeping you posted of my actions somewhere on this lovely planet called earth. My very good intentions for this time are to keep you posted with shorter pieces, which are faster to write and quicker to post. Let's see how this works out...

A bit over two weeks ago, I landed in Lima, Peru. So here I am, in the 'western hemisphere' (oh yes, how eurocentric are we), after a bumpy flight and a hell of a taxi ride to a hostel that was booked but didn't have a spare room. No, I didn't sleep on the street, a hostel nearby helped me out for the first nights - and those first nights ended up being two weeks (and counting). I just decided to stay in Pensión Yolanda, as I felt very welcomed by my host who's always been up front and helpful with me (oh, and let's not forget the occasional pisco sour he's offered).

view from the Miraflores cliffs right in front of my office

(c) Tom Van den Steen

I'll be staying here for quite a while, so do pop over if you feel like visiting Peru. For now, I'll leave you with the wonderful vista I have every time I leave my office here!