Notes from Coastal Peru

It's about time for another update. 

Unfortunately, Maiwar is still navigating the tricky waters of Peruvian bureaucracy.  It would seem that between Customs, the import agent and a bank the process is taking longer than expected. Who was I to think it would all be easy? Even my comrades here are getting frustrated. Thankfully, banging my head against a wall has been all but avoided while I keep busy with life on a new continent. Anyway, there's no use in getting frustrated.  Most days I just think how lucky I am, here in a new country, the world my oyster.

This new, temporary life has taken on a different pace, which takes some getting used to. A simple task that would need a couple of hours back home is now an all-day affair, especially when procuring equipment for my journey ahead. As a wise man once told me, "52 days a year in the tropics, Tom".  Boy was he right.

Inefficiencies aside, Lima is the land of diversity be it geographic, climatic, cultural, economic or gastronomic.  My new home is a veritable wonderland of variety. Having never travelled to a city larger than my own, being in a bustling Latin metropolis of 10 million people is quite the experience. My first week here was mostly spent marvelling:  at people, cats, poverty, wealth, cuisine, brunettes, boats and beaches. Everything is new and exciting in Lima.

My little village, on the outskirts of the city, is a safe and wealthy part of the otherwise dangerous and unkempt district of Callao. It’s beautiful here, much like a Spanish village, I imagine. The families who inhabit these streets have been here for generations.  Many have a healthy dollop of Italian blood owing to sporadic migration over the years. In some ways it's obvious - how many other countries have an Italian rowing club? And in other ways it's a small cultural influence that permeates many parts of life in La Punta.

Making friends here has been trying, my complete lack of Spanish perhaps having something to do with it. Walking the streets of my little village, I feel unnoticed, an outsider - it’s quite nice sometimes. Thankfully, I have a passion, so where there are wooden boats, there are friends. I’ve been hanging around the fishermen’s beach at Chorrillos, about 45 minutes by taxi from home. For a nostalgic romantic like myself this place is about as good as one could hope for.  It’s just like stepping 70 years back in time. Here you will find a fish market, informal ceviche restaurants, a pier, hundreds of moored boats, nets lying around, and a beach full of wooden boats being painted, polished, planked and preserved. I have been loitering long enough to have made a few friends and recognise some faces.  To them I'm the Boatbuilder from Australia. What has kept me occupied is my goal to document and measure the different types of Peruvian fishing boats, a thoroughly enjoyable experience, especially when there's someone to hold the other end of the tape measure. Stay posted for a series of blogs on the topic. I've also found my way through the back streets of Chorrillos to the ramshackle boatyards, unchanged for generations, where men still build wooden fishing boats. These areas are dangerous but thankfully I'm often accompanied, most notably by a boatbuilder’s grandson, about my age, who was nice enough to hang out with me for the afternoon, introduce me to some locals, and keep me safe, for a fee of course!

Allow me to digress, momentarily, to tell you about the cats of Lima. They’re a nice bunch, a few social ranks above their canine counterparts. As I write this, the rowing club cat wanders in through the front door with a very healthy-looking pigeon in its mouth. It would seem I’m not the only one having a good day.

Here in Lima I find myself slipping between two distinct ‘looks’ - ‘barefoot alternative traveller’ and ‘cultured international adventurer’ - changing from one to the other when the situation dictates, sometimes in the space of a day. I enjoy them both immensely.

This is but a brief overview of my new, temporary life in Latin America. The sensibility and warmth of the people here has touched me, it really has. Life here is good.  I don’t want for anything, except, of course, for my Maiwar. It’s been almost 5 months since we parted ways. Soon we will be together again, alone on the Pacific, living out a new existence. The pain and the pleasure, blistered hands and balmy nights, rough seas and smooth, whatever comes - each day I will be toiling towards my lifelong goal. A sweet thing it will be.