A music man in the making

Like any two year old, Simon likes to say "no". A LOT. At first, I joked with him that maybe his name was really No-mon instead of Sí-mon (As in “yes”-mon, except that in Spanish, his name gets an accent later: Simón). He thought that was funny and called himself that on occasions, with a big smile.

And then we graduated to "No, Mommy! No, Mommy!" That gets tiring after awhile, so I started singing “No Mommy” back to him as the refrain of El Debarge’s 80s hit “Who’s Johnny”, with some edits to make the song relevant to our circumstances. Simon liked it and would suggest variations for me to sing: No Daddy, No Dieuwe, No Bow-Wow, etc. Watch the video for Who's Johnny on YouTube for a blast from the past; it is hilarious. And then follow that up with Rhythm of the Night; it's even better! El Debarge's hair there reminds me of a certain track coach back in high school...

While I haven’t heard “Who’s Johnny” while in Peru, I should have: 80s music is super prevalent here! I’ve heard more UB40 in the last two months than I have in the last 20 years. 80s music is on the buses, the radio, the streets. I had been hoping to learn more about Peruvian musicians just by soaking up the ambient music, but instead I’m reliving parts of my adolescence as I sing along with Madonna, Cyndi Lauper, Depeche Mode, Michael Jackson, Men at Work, The Police, a-ha, and Duran Duran, to name but a few. 

We eventually expanded our musical repertoire by singing “No Mommy” to the tune of Dona Nobis Pacem. We have since brought the tune of Frere Jacques into the fold as well. Simon’s even finally branched out to Heads Shoulders Knees and Toes and the Itsy Bitsy Spider, and really dances his heart out when Sam sings variations on "The Twist".

It’s fun seeing Simon sing his own music, dance with zero inhibitions, bang on the drum, pluck on Sam’s guitar strings, or just groove to music in his head, always with the words "No Mommy!" I can live with that.

Sunday afternoons on the malecón

One of our standard Sunday afternoon activities is to walk along the malecón, the walk along the cliffside parks overlooking the ocean. It takes us about an hour to leisurely make our way south to where the parapentes take off and land.

We aren’t the only ones with this idea. I learned from a very cool photo exhibit called Lima Más Arriba that, on a typical Sunday afternoon in summer, there are half a million people along the six-mile-long malecón. While it’s never felt too crowded, it’s definitely been hopping.

The park on the malecón closest to our apartment, late afternoon on New Year's Day

People are always in the parks along the malecón, but it explodes on Sundays. Families bring picnics. Parents and kids ride their bicycles in the bike lane. The canchas are always in use with a fútbol game, with multigenerational teams playing all day long. The D’Onofrio ice cream bicycle vendors are stationed every 100 meters or so, just in case you changed your mind in the last few steps.

I’ve been taken with how participatory families are. Parents don’t just lounge around and watch their kids play (as I might want to do); they are active! Moms and aunts hit volleyballs with kids, dads and uncles chase and tackle the kids too. It’s so fun to see everyone so active and engaged.

Adults and kids alike roll down hills. There is apparently an art to it. Giuseppe tried to teach it to Simon one day when we “borrowed” Giuseppe for the afternoon. 

Rolling down hills, a favorite pastime

Giuseppe gives Simon a lesson in how to roll down a hill. You start at the top...

Simon tries to put Giuseppe's instructions into practice.

After all that effort, Giuseppe is exhausted. Simon's ready to try it again.

There is a dirtbike course right next to the skateboard park, so if there are little kids practicing or, super exciting, an actual race going on, we have to stop and watch that too. Once, when we watched a race, we laughed at the loudspeaker material. It had hundreds of nonexistent people cheering the bikers on, and later when the announcer read out the names of the winners, Queen’s “We are the champions” played over and over.

The skateboarders don’t just use the skate park; some of them take over the long sloping sidewalks to test out dramatic finishes, calling out “¡permiso!” to anyone that might be in their way before they start. Avid athletes, as well as women in skirts and heels, use the exercise equipment scattered everywhere. Dogs have birthday parties. Once we saw a flash mob of 100 people having a pillow fight.

If the wind is good, there is a long line for the parapentes. 

Kids run races through the bushes planted as mazes. Tightropes are strung between trees, at varying heights, for anyone to try inching across. Bubble vendors stop off at the more populated playgrounds and blow rounds of bubbles, to the delight of the kids playing. 

Bubbles never lose their appeal... and they have usually been good ways to start playing with other kids.

Couples make out pretty much anywhere and everywhere, but one particular park along the malecón, the aptly named Parque del Amor, is a good place to avoid if you don’t want to get in the middle of teenagers kissing. It’s anchored by a giant statue of - what else? - two people making out, hovering above the ocean. It also has a very long, very cool mosaic tiled bench with love quotes from literature spelled out with the broken tiles. I was wandering along it once, stopping every so often to read the quotes, when I realized I was inadvertently staring at a couple going at it. Moving on, then!

Capoeira groups stand in a circle, chanting as they practice their unique martial art/dance to their unique music. Hare Krishnas gather on a cliff overlooking the ocean, and more than once we’ve stopped on our way back to watch the sunset there, with their singing and drumming our auditory backdrop to the dramatic orange sun dropping into the haze just above the ocean.

Simon decided to try out some of the moves he saw the capoeira guys practicing.

This was one of the weirdest sunsets we saw: the sun first set into a cloud haze above the ocean, disappearing completely. Then we saw it slowly drop out of the cloud, reappearing before finally disappearing into the next cloud haze.

Not far from the malecón is Parque Kennedy, and the sunken circle there is usually filled with something fascinating to watch, if we can elbow in on the crowd and see in: older couples dancing slowly, cheek to cheek, younger couples salsa dancing, and my favorite so far, an afternoon of tango, with ever-changing partners and really amazing dancing from regular-looking people in the audience.

Last Tango in Peru

One of my goals upon our return to Indy is to start venturing out on Sunday afternoons to different parks in Latino neighborhoods. Perhaps that will be a good way to begin figuring out where and how we might get involved with Spanish-speaking communities. While we’ll have to swap the exciting parapentes for a kite, we’ll be well-equipped for the adventure with our bubbles, fútbol, picnic, and Spanish. Too bad there will be zero hills for Simon to practice his newly acquired skills on.

¡Porque Perú!

One night, when we were living with the señora, one of our housemates mentioned that she couldn't buy a Metropolitano bus pass at a certain station. Unsure whether she meant that a dispensing machine was broken or if that particular station just didn't sell passes, period, I asked why: "¿Por qué?" Before our housemate could answer, the señora interrupted. "¿Por qué?" She sniffed. "¡Porque Perú!"


Why? Because it's Peru!


It became a joke, one that Sam and I would tell each other on occasions when we thought something was funny or strange. Why was the señora so particular with us? ¡Porque Perú! I had to go to the doctor and called up Christina's clinic, which has multiple locations. When I asked how much it would cost, the voice on the other end asked which office I planned to visit. "Why?" I asked. "Because the price is different depending on which clinic you go to," she said. "It's 70 soles in Chorrillos or downtown Lima, 100 soles in San Borja, and 120 soles in San Isidro." ¡Porque Perú! The postal carrier delivered a package from my mom, but when I asked where her other boxes were, he asked me for a special tip, told me of course it was not necessary, but that it might help the rest of the packages arrive. ¿Por qué? ¡Porque Perú!


And then it passed from our daily usage and I forgot about it, until last weekend. We had decided to go to a free concert we'd read about in the newspaper, one that sounded like it would be Spanish-style flamenco guitar music. Sign us up!


The concert was to take place in a museum located in a new (to us) Lima neighborhood, so we went early to explore. There was a lovely little plaza in front of the museum, complete with a beautiful photo exhibit, so we played with Simon and looked at the art.


We still had an hour to kill, however, so after awhile, we started to leave and explore side streets. Then I noticed perhaps a dozen people lining up for the concert. A line forms an hour ahead of time for guitar music? It seemed excessive but I got in line too while Sam and Simon continued romping around.


A guard came out after 20 minutes or so and told the line of people, now over 100 strong, that the invited guests were welcome to enter through a different door. "What about those of us who were invited by the newspaper?" called out the woman in front of me. "Where do we go?" The guard smiled faintly and said the doors would open soon.


"When are the doors supposed to open?" I asked her. "Hmpf," she said. "This is Perú. They were supposed to open a half hour ago. If we're lucky they'll open by the time the concert starts."


We eventually got in and were surprised that the auditorium was so small and already so packed with people. Our plan - to sit in the back, on the aisle, in case we needed to make an early exit, but leave at intermission regardless - was foiled when we ended up in seats as far away from the exit as possible. Okay, that's fine, I told myself. Don't panic. Simon will be OK for half the concert. We just need to make it to intermission.


The guy in front of us had a program. "Can I see that?" I asked. "Or, could you tell me when the intermission will be?" He offered me the program but rolled his eyes: "Don't trust it. There is an intermission listed, but this is Perú. You can't trust what they tell you."


After a lengthy wait during which I worried incessantly about how Simon might behave during a concert where one is supposed to be quiet, and berated myself for thinking that a concert near his bedtime was a good idea, a woman stepped up to address the packed house. "We are sorry for the delay. There are over 100 people waiting outside to get in and we are trying to convince them to leave. We will begin in five minutes."


A half hour later, after four loooooong introductory speeches by various important people, the musicians entered. After tuning their instruments, the harpsichordist abruptly stood up and said, "No flash cameras, please; it will damage the paintings." She started to sit back down, then straightened up again. "And there will be no intermission."


Arrggghhhh! ¿Por qué? ¡Porque Perú!


Simon was mesmerized for six pieces, tranquil for three, and ready to go for one. We snuck out, jostling about every person possible between our boy and our backpack, ready to make our way home. "Wait," said a guard. "You can't go back out that way." He started walking with us. "There are still people waiting outside and if you leave from that door, they will want to come in." He took us deep into the bowels of the museum and we exited through a guard shack onto a dark side street. How sneaky!


We walked around to the front of the building and saw perhaps a dozen hardcore devotees waiting at the door. I have a pretty good idea of what they were saying to each other.

Food and music for the soul

We’d heard that on Saturdays, a small market sets up outside a park about 10 minutes from our house. And what a cool market it was, full of organic produce, rich coffee, handcrafts, tamales sold by nuns, and even a bakery that had a number of gluten-free concoctions! 


There were perhaps 40 vendors and several hundred people stocking up for the week. I wanted to buy a piece of all of the gluten-free goodies, but that would have wiped out our food budget for the whole month – they were pricey. One slice of gluten-free lúcuma cake was 9 soles, which is about $3.50 or $4. 

In front of the gluten-free stand.... heaven!

But hey, I’m a celiac who rarely encounters treats I can actually eat at our own farmers’ market in Indy (since they always use white rice flour, which I also cannot eat, as a substitute for wheat flour). And here there was a chocolate cake jammed with fresh strawberries. Quinoa cake with tropical fruits. Empanadas filled with potatoes and other vegetables. And all of it gluten-free and white rice-free – wouldn’t it be practical, nay, wise, to spend a month’s budget on those treats?!? 

But the best was yet to come. We took our coffees and treats into the park and played with Simon. A group of people were practicing tai chi; another group was finishing a yoga session. 

Later, the tai chi folks busted out swords, too

A small crowd of families was gathering nearby, and we watched as some musicians set up shop and distributed instruments to the toddlers and little kids. For an hour, we enjoyed their music and the delight on the faces of the kids and the musicians. It felt wonderful to be included in such a joyful experience. 

Joyful sounds in Parque Reducto

I’m hoping this becomes a Saturday tradition for us, although when we move to our apartment in several weeks, it will be a trek to attend. Still, it’s something to look forward to… even if I’m not going to eat all the gluten-free delicacies!