Lima: The City Beneath The Clouds

      After plunging into a thick blanket of clouds, our plane finally emerged, and beneath us, the first signs of the city below came into view. The outer districts of Lima, Peru were filled with homes that blended in perfectly with the various browns and yellows of the mountains. We landed soon after, and getting off of the plane, I started to feel the chill, and was thankful for coming dressed in layers. The typical chaos ensued as everyone squeezed off the plane and made a beeline for the bathrooms and baggage claim. I quickly oriented myself and realized I was about to go through customs for the first time. My immediate thought was “Crap. What do you need to go through customs?” I also realized there were three different lines in front of me, and thankfully, a worker spotted what must have been a look of semi-distress on my face and patiently pointed me to the correct line. I gingerly watched as people ahead of me in line pulled out their passports, showed proof of COVID-19 vaccination, and exchanged a few words with a person on the other side of the glass before having their picture taken. When it came my turn, the officer stamped my passport, confirmed I was vaccinated, snapped a picture (which of course captured the biggest, cheesiest smile I could manage), and informed me I had 90 days to stay in Peru. With the excitement of a little kid, I waited until I was out of the way of other people and flipped open my passport to view the red Peruvian stamp.

      The next immediate task was transportation to my next destination. I opted for an Uber, heeding the warning that many taxis that come from the airport charge double their normal rates. As I exited the airport, I was immediately glad for that decision because I was suddenly surrounded by men in suits and a cacophony of voices shouting, “Taxi? Taxi?” I heard a familiar voice in the crowd ask me if I needed any help catching a ride and turned to see my neighbor from the plane. Relieved, I pushed through the taxi drivers and waited next to her and her husband for my Uber. Right when Uber said my ride had arrived, my friends from the plane bid me luck and went with their group. I craned my neck attempting to spot the correct vehicle when I heard my name from within the crowd. I looked to see a man with kind eyes pushing through the taxi drivers. I waved, and José singled me out. He pointed to where he had parked, and we headed to his car. We made light conversation and laughed over our language barrier, me sheepishly admitting my Spanish could use work, and him heartily agreeing the same about his English.

      Nothing could quite have prepared me for the traffic we faced as we exited the airport. Cars, buses, and motos were bumper to bumper, and car horns filled the air. I looked ahead and saw no reprieve. I nervously shuffled in my seat and placed my trust in José to get me to where I needed to go. We weaved through traffic, alternating between light speed and a standstill. I noticed as we got farther into the tangle of vehicles that there really wasn’t any concept of lanes as long as you could fit. I routinely found my chest grow tight with fear as a moto passed within inches of a bus or a car mirror missed the tailgate of a truck by even less. Eventually, I forced myself to take a breath and repeated the mantra to myself “if people do this every day and are okay, surely I will be okay too.” With a newfound sense of peace (as fragile as it may be), I looked up and began to take in the city around me.

      As we passed through the different districts of Lima, I was shocked by the number of homes with open walls beneath the metal roofs. Colorful clothes on clothing lines peeked through the gaps in the brick walls along the highway. As we neared the city center, we entered a round-about, and I curiously asked José about the plaza in the middle. He informed me with a slight tone of amusement that the plaza was called “Plaza de Banderas” despite the absence of the flag on the flagpole. We shared a laugh, and José laid on the horn letting everyone around us know that he was coming through. After 15 more minutes of observing the city from the car, José pulled up to my first destination: the vaccination clinic. I grabbed my two backpacks and said fair-well to José. He reached his arm out of the window, wished me luck, and gave me a fist bump.

      I watched as he drove away, before turning around to face my destination. I felt my nerves creeping up on me as I examined the door. The door was royal blue with bars covering the windows, and the street was quiet with only a couple of people passing by. I stepped up to the door and knocked. I waited for a minute, but no one answered. I began to doubt I was even in the right place at all. Nervously, I knocked again, feeling a little self-conscious as the people passing by watched me with curiosity. My ears perked up at the sound of a lock, and I heaved a sigh of relief as I looked upon the doctor welcoming me inside. I mentioned I had an appointment, and he led me up the stairs to a small waiting room. It was obvious this clinic saw a lot of children based on the toys at my feet. I chuckled when I looked up to find myself facing a mural of MARVEL characters. A couple of minutes later, a nurse gestured for me to come with her. Seeing how nervous I was to leave my backpacks behind, she reassured me they would be safe, and I reluctantly slid them off my shoulders.

      She led me to a room with a table and a sink and asked me to sit, then I told her I needed both the typhoid fever and the yellow fever vaccines. I made my first payment in Peruvian soles, and she left to grab my vaccines. While she was gone, I silently thanked myself for taking a Spanish for Healthcare Professionals class, glad I was able to stumble at least somewhat coherently through the whole exchange. When she came back, she confirmed the expiration dates and that the vaccines were cold before giving me one shot in each arm. After I was vaccinated, I realized my phone was at 2% and not connected to Wi-Fi. I asked her if there was Wi-Fi and told her I needed a ride to my hostel. She smiled and not only offered me her hotspot but also recommended a taxi service she liked. I remarked on the name of the hotspot, to which she beamed and told me it was a nickname for her daughter. She proudly showed me a picture of her little girl before welcoming me to stay awhile and charge my phone. I thanked her for her help, grabbed my yellow vaccine booklet, and went to find my charger. I found a ride and caught up on some messages while I waited. When the car arrived, there was no one to be found, so I awkwardly shouted “Gracias!” to anyone who was listening and hopped down the stairs to catch my car.

      I hopped in the black sedan, greeted Jaime with a smile, and we set off for the Miraflores district. We passed many more plazas, and I playfully wondered to myself just how many plazas there were throughout the city. Starting near the city center, we passed through various districts on the way to Miraflores. I had read before my trip that Miraflores was well-known for tourists, but it became extremely evident as we got closer that Miraflores was significantly different from the other districts of the city. Entering the district was almost like passing through an invisible gate. The street sides were clean and adorned with plants, the buildings were painted bright colors, and the homes were much more complete and guarded by iron gates. I started to wonder at what cost this part of the city appeared much nicer than the rest. As we pulled up to the hostel, I thanked Jaime, clumsily scooped up my two backpacks, and took a deep breath before stepping into the next chapter of my adventure.

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