Love & Light and everything bright...

FROM CUSCO, PERU

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Leaving Cusco, Last Night in Lima

Sunday Concerts; Art in Lima Park

FROM LIMA, Jan 31 - Our last full day in Peru started with an absolutely sparkling morning.  After all the rain we had endured, including a torrential downpour last night, it was as if the heavens wanted us to see why the Incas thought that Cusco was not just the capital of their empire, but the "center of the world." As I walked up the hill with no particular purpose in mind except to inhale the beauty of the place on a quiet Sunday morning, I kept hearing two Latin tunes.  I knew one of them... it was the "Toreador's March" from the opera "Carmen."  The second one was a tango.  But I did not find out its name until we eventually return home.  That's where I recorded my piano version of it ("Tango Fire" [La Cumparsita] by Bob Djurdjevic on Piano, Feb 2010).

Back in Cusco, I found myself eventually at Korikancha, the Golden Temple, over which the Spaniards had built a church. The Sunday service was just starting.  I walked in and stayed for a few minutes to say my own prayers.  Those two tunes were still haunting me. 

Without thinking about it, I took a shortcut from the church toward Hotel St Augustine (two left shots), where I knew there was an old piano.  I played it in July 2008, after we returned from a grueling camp/hike on Mt Ausengate (right shot).  The piano is terribly out of tune, probably because nobody ever plays it.  But it made sounds.  And I made music with it the best I could.

I started playing it in nearly complete darkness of a little foyer in front of the bar.  Being an early morning, the bar was closed.  I started playing with some trepidation.  Thought I may be asked to leave for disturbing the guests' Sunday morning.  That's why I was a little startled when I heard the applause of a group of tourists who were having breakfast in the nearby dining room.  After the Tico-Tico and Moliendo Cafe (tunes), the bellman and the hotel's front desk staff joined the applause.  The bellman turned on the lights in the foyer.  Some Japanese tourists walked in and listened to the impromptu "concert" for while, leaning against the wall.  Guess I wasn't going to get thrown out... :-)

I played for about half an hour.  More applause and many smiles and "gracias" when I got up to leave.  I thanked them, too, for letting me use the instrument.

Again, without following any particular plan, I head up toward Plaza de Armas.

Again, sparkles everywhere.  Last night's rain seems to have given the center of Cusco a new shine.  A group of soldiers were conducting a flag-raising ceremony in the middle of the square (two middle right shots).  A local resident passed by just as I was taking a farewell picture of myself.  He was wearing a T-shirt with US flag (right).  I chuckled when I saw it later on.  It might have been an unwitting flag-raising ceremony for me. :-)

I heard music coming from the direction of the Cusco cathedral.  Which is where I headed next...

  Sunday service music at Cusco cathedral (1/31/2010)

The church was packed, as you can see from the above video clip.  And the music was heavenly.  The female soprano lead had an angelic voice, and the male baritone complemented her beautifully.  

"What a beautiful send-off from Cusco!" I kept marveling about my spur-of-the-moment experiences while walking back to the hotel.

Elizabeth wanted you to see a "chusta," marvelous home-made bread (right) we purchased on the road the night before, while traveling to Senor Huanca.  It is sort of sweet, like "challah" (middle-eastern) bread.  We had some for breakfast and then went out and handed out the rest of the loaf to homeless people and children in Cusco streets.  We had done the same the night before with another loaf we purchased, when some unfortunate Cusco residents sought shelter under the stone awnings of Plaza de Armas.  It felt good to see their grateful smiles.  Then it was time for some farewell photos in the hotel lobby.

At the Cusco airport, I took a picture of an aerial photo of Larcomar, a fancy American-style mall in the Miraflores district of Peru.  We had walked through the mall on our first day there, and were planning to go back tonight.  But we would never get a chance to see such a spectacular view of it (right).  On our take-off from the Cusco airport, I snapped a couple of parting shots of the snow on Mt Pachatusan.  And then we were off to Lima...

Lima from the Air, Sunday in the Park, Art Beckons...

I have not actually seen Lima on any of my previous trips there.  That's because the air was always either foggy or smoggy or both.  And even though it never rains in Lima, there always seem to be some clouds hovering overhead.  That's why I was astonished to see bright sunshine when we were on final approach to the Lima airport.

"God is really laying on a special farewell for us," I said to Elizabeth, as I quickly reached for my camera.

As you can see, about the most colorful thing on the Lima landscape were the containers disgorged on its shores by the ocean faring freighters. The rest of the city of eight million is very drab.  But at least we could see it today.  The veil of Lima mystery has been lifted.

I firmly believe that there are no coincidences.  Yet, what would you say the odds were that we would run into the same cab driver at the airport of a city of eight million who took us to our Lima hotel 11 days earlier?  Chance encounters like that can only be arranged in heavens.  I was the first to recognize him and asked him if he had driven us before. 

"Yes, yes, yes..." he said excitedly.  "I remember."

We chatted amiable the whole way to the hotel.  He said his name was "Johnny." 

"That doesn't sound like a Peruvian name to me," I said. 

"My father liked Tarzan.  So he was hoping I would be like Tarzan."

"And so here you are now, realizing your father's dream in an urban jungle," I chuckled.

Johnny offered to drive us again to the airport in the morning, which we gladly accepted.  We made a new friend.

After we checked in, we went out for a walk around Lima.  It inevitably led to a park.  The weather was sunny and warm.  We had not felt that warm since we left Lima, over a week ago.  The park was full of people.  Some were watching and listening to a live concert, other perused an art exhibit.  We did, too.  I had no intention of buying anything.  Yet I ended up taking a large painting home.

Later that evening, this is what I wrote about it to our family and friends:

FROM LIMA (transmitted from Miami)

Hello, everybody. Elizabeth and I had a wonderful afternoon/evening in Lima yesterday (1/31).  Once again, the unexpected was the norm.  I went out to get a Starbucks coffee, and returned with a beautiful 6' x 3' oil painting.

Elizabeth and I were just walking around Lima in late afternoon, enjoying the warm weather again (80F) after freezing our butts off in the mountains. Lots of other people were similarly enjoying a balmy Sunday afternoon.  We came across an open air art exhibit in a Miraflores (district) park.  One large painting out of hundreds of them caught my eye.  It depicts a scene from the colonial Lima, roughly early 18th century, according to the artist.  It made such an impression on me that, as soon as I saw it, I started to whistle the aria from Carmen (opera).  The painting was brimming with life.

So after three loops around the park to think about it, I came back and made a bargain with the artist, a 45-yr old Peruvian graduate of the Lima art academy who has been painting and exhibiting for 15 years.  Of course, we know all that because Elizabeth was acting as my agent, and translating everything.  Anyway, I took pictures of the canvass so you will be able to see it eventually when I post it as part of the story.

BTW, this was my first coffee in over 10 days. I don´t like Peruvian products, just like I don´t like Hawaiian Kona coffee, either. So I only drink tea in the mountains, usually Annis or Chamomile.  I don´t like the taste of coca tea, either, so only take it medicinally for the first day or two.

Then, also on a spur of the moment, I made friends with a Hungarian owner of "Palachinke," a creperie close to the hotel. His name was Javier.  "A Javier from Budapest," I exclaimed to everyrone's laughter.  Later, we came back to this place for dinner. I've always had a soft spot for crepes. Their giant 16-inch crepe was my entire dinner (see above). Anybody still remember that commercial, "I can't believe I ate that whole thing?"

BTW - want to know how "palachinke" translates into Spanish? "Panqueque." :-)

Love 

Bob

After dinner, we went for a walk to the Larcomar home. And then it was time to turn out the lights, both in our hotel room and on this trip.

And that's all she wrote from our final full day in Peru.

Also check out...

2009

• The Altomesayok Journey (May-June 2009)

2008

• Communing with Holy Mountains in Peru (June-July 2008)

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