A stressful week on the job and the usual hustle &
bustle of city life in Lima with its never ending horn-honking that fills the
city streets 24-hours a day can only be relieved by one thing: a relaxing
southward escape down the coast to the beaches that offer endless waves,
sunshine, and sand that is as hot as burning coals.
Awakening from a daze Saturday morning I began to worry that
the highlight of my day was soon going to conclude shortly after the 1 o’clock
hour, which is usually when I successfully hunt down my lunch for the day. What more could
there possibly be to look forward to other than a mid-afternoon snooze and some
solid relaxation time? Fortunately, I looked to my roommate - who was sprawled
out shirtless on the couch watching TV as I have found him every Saturday morning
during my stint here in Lima – and he proposed the day’s activities that
snapped me out of my hangover as quickly as a McDonald’s Egg McMuffin and a chilled Gatorade.
¡Vamos a la playa!
Heading south from Lima down the Pan American Highway
(spanning and incomprehensible 29,800 miles in total from Alaska to Argentina, by the
way) my friends and I reached the stretch of beaches on the Pacific Ocean,
which is the weekend getaway for all Limeños during the summer months when the
sun actually shines here. As we cruised along in our standing-room-only bus,
which is really just a large van, the stark differences in landscape become
obvious as you leave the pristine and even lush grounds of Lima behind. The
dusty, arid landscapes become more prevalent and I am quickly
reminded that Lima is indeed located in the desert. I begin to feel like I’ve
just discovered that the Wizard is really just smoke & mirrors and a midget hiding behind a curtain with a killer sound system, but
nonetheless appreciate the tropical paradise façade that the government has
created here in Lima, complete with green grass, flowers around every corner, and
palm trees despite the average rainfall being 0.5 inches annually. I am no
botanist, but something doesn’t quite add up in that equation.
Anyhow, we reach the beaches of Punta Rocas and I could
not feel more rewarded after 45 minutes on my feet sardined in a tiny van where
people neither comprehend nor acknowledge the concept of personal space.
A dingy, dusty road leads down to the coast, which is
unimpressive to say the least, leading me to think that the afternoon is going
to be a bust. At the least, I promise myself that I am going to splurge on a
delicious lunch as the lunch hour is already a distant memory, having passed 40 minutes ago. I remember the moment
well because it was just as we made our 24th stop along the Pan
American Highway to pick up 3 more people despite not having a single inch more
of space to spare. It was that moment when I went from uncomfortable to unbearably uncomfortable mixed with a tinge of claustrophobia.
Unassuming dirt road
However, as the restaurants lining the road opened up and
revealed the beach and ocean hiding beyond them all hope was restored. It was
as if Moses himself had parted the seaside shacks to reveal my own personal
Canaan.
I stood in awe soaking in the vast expanse of sand, waves,
and sunshine, but quickly had to get a move on as the hot sand beneath my feet
reminded me this was a no loitering zone.
A shaded slice of sand awaited us along with a waiter to
take our order as we sprawled out on our towels, nestling into the warm sand.
Ice-cold beers and plates of seafood as fresh as if I had just netted them
myself from the very ocean before us came within minutes while all worries of
work, the chaos of dodging insane taxi drivers, and the never-ending symphony
of car alarms from Lima drowned in the rhythmic ebb & flow of the waves and sea
breezes in our new paradise.
Fishermen
Disappearing act
