September 14 — Getting the Hang of Lima Just as It Was Time to Leave
My Last Full Day in Peru
I slept in until around 8 on Monday morning, which wasn’t particularly late, but it felt late compared with how early I had been waking up for most of the trip. I had stayed up later than I meant to the night before working on my blog, and then I had trouble falling asleep because all of my bug bites were itching. I was tired.
I ate some yogurt for breakfast. I had been eating kind of a ridiculous amount of yogurt since coming back to Lima, probably four of them over the past couple of days, mostly because I kept finding them at Tambo and they sounded good to me. They were easy, cold, familiar, and didn’t require me to figure anything out.
I heated water for tea twice and somehow never actually made the tea. Both times the water was sitting there ready, and I just didn’t pour it into the cup. I found that kind of amazing considering what a deeply ingrained morning tea habit I have at home. I had barely had any caffeine during this entire trip other than some coca tea, and somehow, without really setting out to do it, I had broken the ritual. I thought I might make some coca tea later because I was feeling so tired, but even that didn’t feel particularly urgent.
There was something very slow about the morning.
I had a listening/reflection call with Katie around 10:15, and we connected again later. I was also working on my Peru writing. I finally published my September 8 post, which meant I was still five or six days behind in documenting the trip, but at least I had drafts and narration for most of the missing days. I knew I wasn’t going to somehow catch all the way up before leaving Peru, and I think I had finally accepted that.
Brunch and a Closed Museum
Eventually I went out and walked to El Bigote for breakfast or brunch. I ordered toast, two eggs over medium, avocado that they had arranged into these beautiful little avocado flowers, and juice. I had thought about getting waffles, but I didn’t really want that much sugar, so the eggs and avocado felt much better.
It was warm and sunny and really beautiful outside.
Afterward I thought I would go to the contemporary art museum. It was my last full day in Lima, and there was still this part of me that felt like I should be out doing things because I was here and I wasn’t going to be here tomorrow.
But the museum was closed. So I walked home. And that was okay with me.
I was tired. I kept thinking about my first day in Iquitos, when I had arrived exhausted and overwhelmed and eventually realized that I didn’t have to immediately go experience Iquitos simply because I was in Iquitos. I could lie down. I could rest. Peru would still be outside when I was ready.
It felt similar now.
This was my last day, but I didn’t need to squeeze every possible experience out of it. I had already done so much. I had walked all over Lima. I had been to Iquitos and on the Amazon. I had spent a week in the jungle. I had gone through three ayahuasca ceremonies and an all-day San Pedro ceremony. I had wandered through Barranco the day before, had ceremonial cacao, talked with artists, bought gifts and watched the sun set over the Pacific.
I didn’t feel like I had failed to use my time. I felt full.
Letting the Last Day Be Easy
Money was also very much on my mind by this point. I had spent more than I intended over the course of the trip, and after buying gifts at the artisan market the day before, I felt pretty complete. I didn’t need to keep shopping just because it was my last day.
Mostly I wanted to rest, finish some work, slowly get myself organized and not create a frantic final night.
My taxi was coming at 8 a.m. the next morning, so I needed to pack carefully, charge everything, make sure all of my devices and cords were accounted for, and get to sleep at a reasonable hour. I even found myself thinking about doing another load of laundry and then realizing that I probably did not need to wash everything one more time just because there was a washing machine available.
I had clean clothes. I could go home. There was something interesting about finally reaching the point where I didn’t have to keep optimizing every little thing.
One More Walk Through Barranco
By late afternoon I was hungry again, and I wanted one last good meal in Barranco, but I didn’t want anything fancy or expensive and I really didn’t want to get into a taxi and go across Lima. I wanted something nearby that I could walk to, preferably fish or chicken with rice, something relatively healthy and authentically Peruvian.
I ended up going to La Mueller and ordered pescado a la chorrillana. It was pretty good, and it felt like exactly the kind of uncomplicated last-day meal I wanted. I wasn’t trying to have some monumental final dinner in Peru. I was hungry, I wanted good food, and I wanted to stay close to home.
Afterward I wandered through some of the shops on my way back. I was still looking at gifts and beautiful handmade things, even though I had already told myself I was basically done shopping.
At one point I found myself considering this beautiful handmade bag that I thought could be used for my chanupa. It was 730 soles, which was somewhere around $217, and I really loved it. But money was tight enough at that point that $217 was not an insignificant purchase, and I was standing there doing the familiar mental calculation of how much I wanted it, whether I could justify it, and whether they might take American Express. They did take AmEx, but then they asked me about tax and if they could see my passport and I didn’t have it with me so I said I’d come back later. I knew that I wouldn’t come back though.
It is funny how quickly a person can move from I am completely done shopping to but perhaps this one extremely specific beautiful object is meant to come home with me.
I was also thinking about Dédalo and the other little shops in Barranco, trying to figure out what was actually on my route back toward the apartment rather than turning the evening into another expedition.
Mostly I just liked walking around. As I found myself heading towards the ocean, I saw that the sun was setting. I loved how the pathway was set up with many spots where people could sit and gather to watch the sunset. I stood for a while watching until it disappeared and a man next to me said, “There she goes…”
By then Barranco no longer felt entirely unfamiliar. I had only been staying there a couple of days, but I had started developing my little map of the neighborhood in my head. I knew where Tambo was. I knew where I liked to eat. I knew how to get toward the ocean. I knew which streets I had already wandered down.
Of course, just as I was beginning to feel comfortable there, it was time to leave.
Ready to Go Home
Back at the apartment, the reality of leaving the next morning was settling in. I still needed to finish packing, organize everything, charge my devices and make sure I could simply wake up and go when the taxi came at 8.
I felt sad about leaving Peru, but I wasn’t experiencing that sadness as a feeling that I needed to stay longer. I was ready.
I had been away for two weeks. I had moved through so many different environments that they already almost felt like separate trips: Miraflores, Iquitos, the Amazon, Blue Morpho, then Barranco. There had been airports and taxis and motocarros and boats, jungle trails and ceremonies and restaurants and hotel rooms and apartments and a truly absurd amount of laundry.
And underneath all of it, so much had happened internally that I knew I wasn’t going to understand it by the time I boarded a plane.
That part would take longer. For now, I mostly needed to get myself and my suitcase home.
I was tired. I was grateful. I was still processing everything. I was sad to leave this place I had finally learned how to move through.
And I really wanted to see Frank and Ricky.
