Lima to Chiclayo (July 16-17, 2010)

    We touched down in Lima at 11:00 p.m.  After sweating it out for about an hour after our landing, waiting in baggage claim, we finally identified each of the bags we checked.  As we walked out the terminal area, we saw a friendly face with a sign that said: “Royals.”  There we met Fiorella Torres, who made sure we got onto our next flight to Chiclayo.  She was very helpful and sweet.  We exchanged some money for soles, which I hate because the soles feel more like Monopoly money.  I have no idea how much money I have at any one time.  (A soles is actually about a third of a dollar . . . or is it three soles for a dollar?  Something to do with three - I know that . . . almost for sure.)  Once Firella got us oriented, Maralea and I decided to get some shoulder massages for $15.00 at about 1:30 a.m.  Problem: None of the “therapists” spoke English, so we had a few problems.  I am also not sure how “trained” they were, but I about cracked up when I saw the woman massaging Maralea’s neck have her sit up and then quickly turned her head to the side like she was attempting some chiropractic maneuver.  (That’s what Maralea gets for sticking her neck out, so to speak.)  We tried to get some rest prior to our 4:00 a.m. departure while hanging out in the Lima airport, but it was really difficult.  We did learn one thing, however: stay away from the airport massage areas - and keep your hands of the $3.00 Snickers bars at the gift shop.  Oh, I almost forgot: IT’S COLD HERE!  While we left 110 degree heat of Las Vegas, and the swampy humidity of Atlanta, we entered the Southern Hemisphere where it is now winter and people here are all bundled up like it’s below freezing.  It was definitely chilly in Lima, as I walked around in my shorts and short sleeved shirt.  Something I have struggled with so far is keeping up with things like: my passport, money, temple recommend and driver’s license.  I nearly left my passport and cash in the Lima airport lying on the floor where we had been seated.  Fortunately, I have been in the habit of double and triple checking myself because losing wallets and like items has become rather routine in my life.  In fact, the week before our trip I received a phone call from Qdoba in Henderson, NV, about an hour after we had left there for lunch.  They had my wallet.  The flight to Chiclayo was full and it seemed everyone there was used to being up at that hour.  I did not see a lot sleeping or even people appearing tired or groggy (you know, people that looked more like us). 

It was really cool to watch our flight progress over David's mission area (northern Peru) as we approached Lima

We were up all night, with a layover from about 11:00 pm until 4:30 am in Lima - Maralea slept: I did not

This cracked me up.  At every security point at the Lima airport was a clear box of confiscated items.

  We arrived in Chiclayo at about 5:30 a.m., exiting the back of the plane via stairs directly onto the exterior airport area.  As we walked by the plane, I stopped to take a picture at the sight and caught the attention of security who yelled at me in Spanish to move along.  The airport in Chiclayo is small.  Baggage claim is right as you enter, and there was a crowd of taxi drivers huddled at the exit with signs, all vying for our attention.  There was even a Mariachi like band playing music in the darkness, which was really strange (as we seemed to be the only non-locals around).  We again looked for and quickly found the sign: Royals.  Hermano Ismael Ramirez was there to welcome us, shaking my hand as he identified himself followed by: “No habla Espanol.”  We made our way to the vehicle that would be taking us to Chachapoyas, an old Toyota Corolla station wagon, with a broken seatbelt in the front seat and no seatbelts in the back seat where we settled in.  Hermano Ramirez had David on the phone.  David acted as interpreter for us several times as we prepared to leave Chiclayo.  We had a little hiccup at the gas station when our vehicle would not start.  The guys got out and started pushing, our driver, Jorge Flores, popped the clutch and we were back in business.  We had another delay when we were surrounded by gas station workers who immediate began jacking up the left front tire as Maralea and I sat in the car.  (We stayed in the car tilted to the right primarily because our driver said we might be shot if we exited.  I relayed that to David and he felt that was a bit dramatic, but suggested I don’t flash money around.  We stand out like sore thumbs here and wished we could speak some Spanish.)  As we got on the road, we had a white knuckle tour of Chiclayo, which included crazy driving and a near head on collision that ended about a foot short.  That did not phase Jorge, but it gave me a new appreciation for the seatbelts that used to occupy the backseat when this vehicle had seen better days.  Driving in city traffic in the large cities of Peru is similar to what we experienced five years earlier in the Philippines  - NUTS.  Pedestrians definitely do not have the right of way - ever, even when within a crosswalk.  It’s every driver and other person using the road in any manner - for himself.  Wow oh wow.  There is no way I would even attempt to drive here.  It amazed me to think that David actually had a Peruvian driver’s license and was driving all over Piura and other areas of the mission while serving in the office for eight months.  I hope he does not come home and driver like Peruvian taxi drivers - or he will lose his Nevada DL quickly.  Something else I noticed: the absence of road rage.  While driving was crazy, and we had so many close calls, everyone just goes on their way - no one gets mad, yells, makes threats, etc.  They seem to have a kind of no harm, no foul mentality.  I did not see any police taking control, providing order - because this vehicular confusion was apparently normal.

The airbus that took us safely to Chiclayo at 5:30 am

We were the only Gringos, but were nevertheless favored to some entertainment as we got our bags to the taxi.

The vehicle that would take us for the next 10 hours of our travel that began . . . about 24 hours earlier. (Drivers Ishmael Ramirez (left) and Jorge Flores (right) are standing on the opposite site of the vehicle.  GREAT GUYS!  No English, but we got along great.  By the way, this picture was taken just before the battery died and the left front of the vehicle was jacked up to change a tire as we remained in the car for our safety.  It was warmer inside the vehicle anyway.  Ha.)