More Of Lima: Ancient Sites, Traffic Jams And Guinea Pigs

Wednesday, 5:30am. Manuel and his driver are pretty prompt as they collect us from our base and head out into Lima’s streets which are, mercifully, free at this early hour of the traffic which clogs the city for the rest of the day. Kevin from Newcastle NSW is already on board and a few minutes later we collect the giant 6ft 7in Mario of Split who has to perform contortions to wedge his elongated body into the cramped seats of the minibus.

We’re headed out of the city today, out towards a mysterious place of ancient intrigue more than three hours north of Lima. The sprawling, seemingly endless suburbs of Lima roll by, soon grinding to a halt as the clock reaches 6:15 and the heaving mass of several billion vehicles begins the daily routine of gridlock and horn blowing. I enjoy driving abroad, but Lima is absolutely definitely not being added to my motoring wish list, simply because the whole thing is a game of barging, squeezing through gaps, blocking others and claiming inches of ground by passing within millimetres of other vehicles. Judging by the fact that virtually every car is a mass of dents and scrapes, they’re not actually very good at it, either. 

For a good part of the year Lima is blighted by what the locals call “garuá”, a coastal fog which gets trapped between the Pacific and the Andes and hangs over the city for days on end. Fortunately we’re here during one of the garuá-free months, but as the sun rises this morning and we finally leave the suburbs behind, we can see that even in its off season, the fog can still choke the views. Worse, pollution outfall from the metropolis is turning the fog a grimy shade of yellow, an unmissable reminder of the impact of modern cities. It isn’t too pretty.

We’re on the Pan-American Highway – the succession of roads which stretch an incredible 19,000 miles from Alaska to the southern tip of the continent at the foot of Argentina – heading north to keep the Pacific on our left and the desert sands on our right. This is unimaginably desolate country, the highway cutting a straight black swathe through sands and dust the colour of cement powder, isolated truck stops and industrial towns only occasionally changing the featureless, colourless view. Then, without warning, the land turns suddenly fertile, fast rivers race beneath road bridges and vast fields of maize, passion fruit and chilli peppers stretch out in verdant oases.

Flying in over this terrain when we first arrived, we could see what looked like parallel lines drawn or carved into the hillsides, and had wondered what they were. We know now: they aren’t lines at all, but the roofs of low slung chicken houses on the numerous and gigantic chicken farms spread across the province. “Peruvians eat a lot of chicken”, Manuel explains, somewhat superfluously. 

A truck-stop breakfast of chorizo sandwich and watery coffee follows, then it’s back on the highway, over mountains where the fog shrinks visibility to dangerous levels, until we’re eventually approaching Caral, today’s major destination and a place of wondrous history and intrigue. High on a hill above the Supe River which brought dwellers to the site in the first place, lie the remains of what is, so far, the earliest settlement ever discovered in the Americas.

Constructed around 5,000 years ago as the main centre for the Caral people – another 19 smaller sites have been discovered in the area – this is not only the oldest city in the Americas but one of the earliest civilisations in the entire world. The city is thought to have been occupied for around 1,000 years, serving as an early metropolis for these ancient peoples. There is great diversity among the buildings so far excavated, indicating tiers of standing where, similar to other ancient cities across the World, the leading figures of society dwelt on higher ground elevated above the main population. It’s just a little awe inspiring to stand here and really absorb precisely what it is that we are seeing. Amazing.

Caral is more than three hours’ drive from Lima, a fact which clearly prompts the tour company to find a second destination to make the trip, in their eyes, more worthwhile. This extra sortie, a trip to the coastal town of Barranca for a lunch of fresh fish and sweeping clifftop views, would probably work on sunny days, but today the sea and sky are grey and the wind on the top of the cliffs is….hmmmmm….bracing. My T shirt is insufficient protection. Mario, freshly here from the Amazon, is starting to shiver throughout the significant distance from his head to his toes. Barranca, a little strangely, boasts its own Christ The Redeemer statue, a scaled down version of its Rio counterpart, significantly less visited by humans but clearly a favourite place for seabirds to stop by and defecate.

The seaside diversion doesn’t really work and, more frustratingly, means we roll back into Lima’s suburbs with evening gridlock at its worst and a good percentage of the city’s drivers barging their metal boxes into spaces that barely exist. We make it home at 8pm, more than 14 hours after we set out. Caral was absolutely fascinating, the day a little too long.

As it happens, our Lima base, the neighbourhood of Miraflores, is itself home to another wondrous archeological site, the Huaca Pucllana pyramid. Built over a period of 300 years from around 200AD, Pucllana must have been an incredibly impressive sight – it’s huge now but is thought to have been around five times larger in its day. A temple built as a 7-tier Great Pyramid, the way the vertically mounted mud bricks have withstood the ravages of time is more than remarkable – thousands remain intact. The vertical, slightly irregular position of the bricks, together with horizontal mortar lines and vertical spacing, provided sufficient flexibility for the giant structure to withstand earthquakes and tremors – the ingenuity of ancient races never ceases to amaze.

Incidentally, the in-house guide at Pucllana tells us that the reason the mud bricks have endured so well is that, in his words, it “never rains in Lima”. According to him, the last time there was a day of sustained rain in this city was 1970, twelve years before he was born. We have no idea if he’s telling the truth.

We take a walk from Pucllana back through Miraflores, down to the cliff and along to the neighbouring district of Barranco (not to be confused with Barranca where Christ The Redeemer is), a reportedly bohemian quarter with a newly gained reputation for lively nightlife. With its neatly kept green square and pastel painted houses it has a certain charm of its own. Half way there, one of Lima’s many fabulous cevicherias calls us in for another wonderfully fresh version of this delightful dish. We can advise that there’s certainly no scrimping on content in Lima – the cerviche mixto delivers fish, prawns, squid, octopus and even a scallop with coral attached. Again it’s just fantastic. Gotta love ceviche.

For our final day in Lima we venture to two new districts, each bustling with colour and activity. First, the neighbourhood around Gamarra metro station where the streets are rammed with market stalls selling everything on Earth, traders and buyers competing to make this the noisiest, most manic and colourful of places. The decibel level has to be heard to be believed. Tucked in one unmarked building in amongst the craziness is the Mercado de Brujas – the Witches’ Market – where potions, spells and familiars mix with Tarot cards and masks. It might possibly be spooky if it wasn’t for the bored look of indifference on the faces of the stall holders.

On from here to Barrio Chino, Lima’s Chinatown, which is just as noisy, just as colourful, but this time with much more of a nod to visitors rather than the distinctly local flavour of Gamarra. Chinese came to Lima in large numbers around the late 19th century to work at the port, in the factories and on the railway, bringing with them another element to the city’s character – in fact, many of the dishes labelled “traditional Peruvian cuisine” contain soy sauce as a salty ingredient.

Our time in this exciting and vibrant city is coming to a close. Did we try the guinea pig? We did indeed. No doubt some will be horrified or nauseated by the thought of devouring a guinea pig which is presented this way, instantly identifiable as what it is, but you can take our word for it that it’s alright – the meat perhaps not amazingly tasty but the crispy skin is delicious. Give it a go if you dare.

Lima is great, even if, every now and again, the stench from the fishmeal factories turns the air into a foul smelling cloud which has us covering our mouths and running for cover. Welcoming, vibrant, exciting, colourful…a city which has so much going for it that a full week here wouldn’t be overdoing it. Oh, and then there’s the fabulous food. Did we mention the food?

Goodbye Lima. We like you a lot.