Welcome to Peru – land of plenty, realm of remarkable diversity, and cradle of ancient civilizations! And yes, that man beside you on the bus is holding a live chicken. Play your cards right and you might get to eat a foot. It’s true that in some ways Peru is behind the times, just now experiencing radical breakthroughs like asphalt and dentistry, but if you look past all that you’ll see a beautiful country full of amiable people, and then if you look past that and over to the left you’ll see an old woman defecating in the middle of the street. You may be thinking, “Nick, is the humor of this entire article going to be essentially based on making fun of their poverty?” Well I’d make fun of the mentally disabled, but I can’t seem to find any. Maybe there aren’t any here because it’s too hard to learn Spanish. (Or I could’ve said: Maybe they can’t afford them here.)
Peru is most well-known for its archaeological treasures, having been home to the Incans, the Moche, the Nazca, and several dozen other cultures mainly distinguishable by the slightly different shaped necks of their jars (this is not a joke). And sometimes distinguishable by their funny hats (still not a joke). And even less frequently distinguishable by their preference for regular or low-fat Hot Pockets (there’s the joke). Indeed Peru seems littered with the citadels and cities of complicated and diverse cultures, citadels and cities that all ultimately look like a big pile of rocks. In fact I’m pretty sure I have some Incan ruins beside my house from the leftover materials when we installed a new fireplace. The level of decay in most of these archaeological sites allows near infinite interpretation by natives and experts regarding their purpose. Those diagonal stones are meant to represent the eyes of a puma, or that boulder is meant to represent the surrounding countryside (and I think that cloud looks like a pony!). Also, no ruin would be complete without a room or relic that is positioned to highlight the solstices, because for some reason ancient Peruvians were fascinated with the only quasi-holiday more boring than Flag Day. But gazing upon the awe-inspiring sites of Machu Picchu or Kuelap, one can’t help but wonder one thing: if these civilizations were so mighty, how were they beaten by a people who like to nap between 1:00 PM and 4:00 PM every day for no particular reason?
But enough about ancient history – who are the Peruvians of today? Who are these short, dark-skinned persons who take much better care of their hair than their teeth? It’s a difficult question that many have unsuccessfully attempted to answer, but I think I finally have an adequate response: they are people who want to sell you shit. Candy, cigarettes, history books, jungle medicines, popcorn, bundt cake, directions, photos of themselves, photos of you, photos of just about anything else, haircuts, shoeshines, or even, if you are very very lucky, your own wallet back to you. Or maybe they’re a whole nation of people unsure of exactly how to finish building a house (hint: add a roof, paint it, research “plumbing”). Or maybe they’re people who can magically secrete dirt, because how else could their cities be so damn dusty? I feel like an extra in Hidalgo. Anyway, in Peru people who dress and live much like those of us in first world countries and people stuck two hundred years in the past exist side by side. In nearly every town you can see women clothed in traditional garb: colorful sweaters, stiff hats, and thick skirts and stockings, usually with a bulging hand-woven sack slung over their shoulders. These sacks can contain anything; I have personally seen them opened to reveal several pounds of bananas, a baby, and once a TV/VCR combo (seriously). They’re like a miniature version of Showcase Showdown, only without Bob Barker.
Arguably the best way to get a feel for the Peruvian way of life is to sample their transportation structure, which is mostly based on the “Hey you! Give me a ride!” system. This method works even better if you have a gun, but be warned, in rural locales you might have to first explain what exactly a gun is. Within cities, colectivos and combis are the main form of transportation. These are colorfully painted vans and small buses whose drivers attract attention by shouting constantly out the window. I know what you’re thinking – Nick, I’m pretty sure you’re describing an ice cream truck – but trust me, the only ice cream they carry is seventy nine, wears a poncho, and tries to sell you fried cow hearts. People are crammed into colectivos and combis quite densely, and thus the best way to climb on is with some healthy shoving (if you push hard enough to send any pregnant women aboard into forced labor you know you’ve gotten the hang of it). Conversely, there are two ways to get off – either hurl yourself out the door or go into a claustrophobia-induced panic attack. I recommend the latter as it requires less apologizing. For long distance hauls, Peru has an extensive bus network, most of which offer food and screen staff-selected films, giving you the ideal opportunity to catch up on Tom Berringer and Dolph Lundgren movies. It’s always best to hit yourself in the kneecaps with a hammer before boarding any buses so that the seat’s miniscule legroom seems pleasant by comparison.
Peruvian cuisine is as intriguing as their transportation (and will likely move through you faster than any local bus moves from town to town). Peruvians often begin their meal with a hodgepodge soup made of things they have no use for, like chicken bones, corn cobs, or birth control pills. The same advice applies to these soups as walking a tightrope – don’t look down. From there it’s a main dish of beef, pork, chicken, or fish usually served with both rice and French fries. It was in fact a major scientific discovery in Peru that they could combine rice and potatoes, forming a meal starchier than my dry cleaning, and people would not complain (up their with the discovery that those big squares of grass in front of people’s houses are great places to pile trash). A delicacy of the highlands is cuy, guinea pig in English, which takes second place for cutest dinner right after Nepal’s sautéed puppy in a sailor hat. Then there’s ceviche, the nationally adored dish of raw seafood marinated in lime juice, oil, and spices and peppers, prepared differently by each cevicheria. I don’t really have anything funny to say; ceviche is actually quite delicious. What, you still want a joke? Okay - it seems that every single person in Peru owns a travel agency. In fact, the Peruvian Statistics Bureau reports that there are 3 agencies for every 10 tourists. But they also report that 49 percent of their statistics are made up, since the Peruvian Statistics Bureau is really just one guy named Luis who “usually knows what’s up.”
Peruvians emphasize their beverages as much as their food. The national drink is chicha, a mildly fermented corn juice traditionally made by corn being chewed and then spit into a vat by elderly women. By traditionally made I mean probably still made that way, but I don’t want to find out. And if you ask politely, the women may bypass the middleman and spit right into your mouth, but this could be a ceremony that results in you acquiring a wife. Or maybe that was just something I saw on Star Trek. The equally famous alcoholic beverage of the country is the pisco sour. An ongoing debate exists as to whether pisco originated in Chile or Peru, an issue most Peruvians are quite passionate about. If caught up in the argument, make sure you pretend that it’s more interesting than the sour apple versus watermelon Jolly Rancher debate. Finally, on a hot day most Peruvians reach for an Inca Kola, the yellow, sugary soda of choice. The best thing about Inca Kola is the universal free refills. When you finish your glass just head to the toilet, aim carefully, and after relieving yourself you’ll have another full bottle.
So there you have it: Peru, land of promise! Hop the next plane out! Only be warned, the planes here are covered in hair, have long necks, and are called ‘llamas’ (it’s a regional dialect). On the long trip over you can practice some key phrases, such as, “What part of this pig is this from exactly?” “Does your toilet have a toilet?” and “You read my mind, I am interested in a 13-year old prostitute with more children than incisors.” Bon voyage!
