Ho Ho Ho Merry Christmas

Merry Christmas. Enjoy this walk in Lima during the holidays.

No Turkey but Thankful

Today is Thanksgiving. It is my first Thanksgiving outside of the United States. Normally I cook the turkey, having seasoned it the night before with salt, pepper, old bay, and injecting mojo (a mixture of garlic, lime, orange, onion, and other flavors). Thanksgiving mornings for me have been preparing stuffing, sausage and apples with sage bread crumbs. Then comes the preheating of the oven, stuffing the bird, covering it with bacon for basting and getting the gobbler in the oven. All of this is done by 7:30 in the morning.

The process continues, throughout the morning, by making apple and pumpkin pies. Corn is shucked. A salad is made.Sweet potatoes are cut and wrapped in tin foil. Then I bake them in the oven to a soft sweet side dish steaming with aroma as I add butter and cinnamon.Green bean casserole is prepared. Rolls are baked. White potatoes boiled and then mashed. As the cooking ends gravy is made and the cranberry sauce, canned, is plated. All this is done with the Macy's Thanksgiving day parade on the television, waiting in anticipation of Santa Claus to appear followed by NFL football previews and the games of the day.

Thanksgiving dinner is really a supper: served at 2:00 in the afternoon in my house. As a family we never get "dressed." It is a casual event, jeans and T's. As the table is set the children are seen picking and tasting what is about to be served. Just before we eat each one of us says what we are thankful for. Then we dive in to the food, passing plates, and gorge ourselves.

This Thanksgiving I am in Peru. No Turkey. No cooking. No Macy's Thanksgiving day parade. No football on the television. No sweet smell of home cooking as the meal is prepared. No beer nor wine. No closed stores. No empty streets. Yes thankful.

I am thankful for my family's support. My mother, brothers, children, granddaughter, and friends, in the US. All have been supportive of the change I made moving to South America. Many of which have made it possible for me to embark on this adventure as an expatriate.They have at this time given more than I have been able to give back.

I am thankful for my new family here that has adopted me and made me feel welcome. My bride-to-be, her daughter, mother, brothers, cousins, nieces, and nephews have made me feel like a member of the family. I am thankful for the friends here that have accepted me: Peruvians ands expatriates.

Thanksgiving as a holiday is not about the turkey and the pies, the sweet or mashed potatoes, or the cranberries and the gravy. It is about a sense of awe and appreciation for all that we have and what we have shared together.

Today I am thankful and I share my thanks with you. Happy Thanksgiving wherever you may be today. Happy Thanksgiving.

La Canción de los Turistas

Business is Business no matter what side of the equator

I have been spending much of my time working on developing a network of private sector professionals in Peru. Considering it is my intent to stay in Peru with my bride-to-be for the next 50 years (I told her that I would give her a 50 year commitment so when I am 99 she is on her own), I needed to start getting "connected" in Peru for business opportunities. I felt that my experience in the United States of networking and referrals was a sound business plan. As such I have begun focusing on replicating that process here in Lima.

Many have told me that in Lima it is "who you know" and not "what you know." My experience in the US was similar in that it was a combination of "who you know" and "knowing something." I am finding that to be the same here as well. It just requires a longer focus on the "who" to demonstrate the "what you know."

Some of my contacts have come over time and others very recently by just requesting them through the web. Services such as LinkedIn and Facebook are becoming important social mediums for networking in Peru. I am impressed at how quickly one can increase a contact database with minimal effort. I believe it is probably easier to establish the quality of contacts here in Peru than in the United States. This may be evidenced by the caliber and quality of contacts that have accepted me through the social networks. Developing the contacts may take longer though.

I am coming to understand that in Peru, professionals are protective of making referrals because it is considered a reflection of the one giving the referral. In the States I could ask and receive a referral on a one-call-close (first time meeting that included a sale). In Peru, referrals are more performance based: waiting to see how well you perform before sharing you with colleagues or friends. As a result, a referral here tends to lend more weight than in the North America. In North America the referral got me in the door: in Peru the referral gets me through the door.

I have found that the business relationships here become deeper too. Some of the professional relationships have become close confidences. One such relationship has been with Javier Neyra. I first contacted Javier in November of 2009 before coming to Peru. He had an ad I saw that was interesting. Over the past year we have developed a professional relationship.This is a relationship I have found to be very supportive while here in Peru.

International Data Contact Center is one of Javier's businesses: providing English and Spanish speaking call center services that range from sales to customer service. His background includes an expertise in insurance, commercial and individual, and real estate. Javier has always been available with open ears to listen to an idea and help me evaluate it: many times letting me camp in his office when I required a place to work. Every time I have needed information, all I have had to do is ask and he has what I need immediately.

Javier has asked for me to help him from time to time. I am more than happy to assist him. Sometimes it is to review an agreement in English or get an opinion about the US market. Do not get me wrong, he is more than capable to do this with his own English skills and market knowledge. I believe he utilizes me as a resource with specific knowledge, native North American business professional, and I am happy to do so because of the relationship we have developed.

From our conversations I have learned about his family and his life. We are of similar age and experiences. We both have worked hard for our children's benefit. Our focus has been and  is on success, professional and personal. In the midst of a business relationship I have found a business friend. I am finding this true with many relationships here.

As I develop my network and plant my seeds that grow to roots here in Peru my relationships here remind me of those when I was in the States. There I had developed deep relationships based on mutual respect. They became my masterminds. People like Mike Husson a sales professional and coach, Don "load the wagon" Acker, a master of team building and Chuck Heidenfelder the sales pro that would tell me why it didn't make sense and then how to make it work. Each of these over time became my trusted business friends because of a mutual respect of what we knew. The relationships I am developing here with Javier and others are the same.

I am finding, in the private sector, that the similarities are greater than the differences. Who you know is important, but so is respect for what you know. As a result the quality of life you develop gets better as you surround yourself with deeper relationships. Business is business no matter what side of the equator you are on. Develop it with mutual respect and you benefit from the relationships: both professionally and personally.

Paying it forward between the foul lines north and south of the equator

I have two daughters that are 355 days apart in age. When they were 8 and 9 they started playing fast pitch softball. For some reason they were placed on different teams. At that time I was an executive, shirt and tie job, and would rush from the office to see their games. Game after game no umpire would show up. So I would take off my jacket, loosen my tie and in my slacks, suspenders, and wingtip shoes I began my avocation of umpiring. 

The last 15 years I have been umpiring at the NCAA Division I level. I have umpired in several conferences: including post season championships.Before returning to Peru I was asked to umpire in the women's professional league. During those years, my oldest daughter continued to participate in softball, ultimately ending her career playing four years at the Division II level: on scholarship. 


Because of her involvement in softball and my umpiring we developed a second family at the Lake Lytal Lassie League in West Palm Beach, FL. Every week we were at the ball park, either at Lake Lytal or on the road playing travel ball. Lake Lytal  became an extended family: celebrating the births and marriages and grieving the deaths together. The relationships we developed there were invaluable. 

Because of what softball gave to me personally I started giving back training umpires and scheduling the umpires for tournaments. My part in these tournaments was to provide young women the highest level of officials while balancing the costs to the leagues and compensating the hard work from the umpires, taking very little for myself. I trained for several years at the high school association and became a mentor to many officials that are now umpiring at different levels of the NCAA: paying it forward as my thank you to the men and women that helped me reach one of the highest levels of the sport. 

When I came to Peru I found the  Federación Peruana de Softbol. I have been umpiring weekly including an international tournament last week for young women 14 years and under. For me it has been like finding my second Lake Lytal. I have been welcomed and made to feel like part of the family. The players, coaches, fellow umpires, and even the fans have, by their acceptance, helped me to understand that no matter where you are from, sports breaks down all barriers. Sports binds people together. Sports builds character and sets the example for those we care for most: our community and children.


One person I have met here in Peru that demonstrates these values is Marylu Torres. Marylu began playing softball in Lima, Peru when she was 15. The boys from her neighborhood all played baseball and their sisters where playing softball. She began playing for CAMAGÜEY at third base and batting fourth. She was a power hitter from the left side. She played for her high school in Lima's first interscholastic league. 

When Torres was16 she, and 40 other young women, tried out for the first Peruvian national team. After 2 years the team was formed and in 1978 Peru hosted its first international tournament. The teams that participated where from Argentina and two teams from the United States. Marylu remembers how much faster the US teams' pitching was and how playing them made her a better ball player.

One of the US teams, the Patriots, was coached by a Carol "Stash" Stanley. Stanley has been involved in softball her whole life as a participant, coach, inventor and mentor. She is the holder of four US Patents; STAN-MILL MITT is part of the permanent collection in the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown.Stash would return to Peru for several years with teams for tournament play. Each year she would provide a clinic for the young women of Peru. She is credited with helping establish women's softball in Peru and created the varsity softball program at SUNY Binghamton. Stanley was paying it forward to women like Marylu Torres.Torres benefited from the clinics, improving her game year in and year out.

In 1978 Marylu enrolled in the Catholic University in Peru where she continued to play for Peru on the national team. In 1982 Marylu went to the United States to attend Queens College in New York. She played softball in the states and spent more time with Stanley. Carol even helped Marylu with English teaching her the phonetics of the language. After Marylu graduated university she began teaching English in Peru. To this day Torres still teaches. Stanley was an important person in her life. .

Torres played third base for Peru until 1987 when a knee injury forced her to play first base for a year. In 1988 she went on to play right field. In 1991, her final year as a player, she was a designated hitter. Marylu had a batting average that was always in the high 300's to low 400's. She was such a great hitter that many at bats would result in her being hit by the pitch, intentionally to keep her from hitting for extra bases. 

Coaching began for Marylu in 1993 with the international team of Peru. That year the team went to Puerto Rico. She is the softball coach at the San Silvestre School in Lima working with girls from the 2nd grade to high school.

Each weekend on Sunday's you can find Marylu at the ball field: Olivares in Jesus Maria. She is a fixture in the 3rd base coaches box when the women's team Simon Bolivar Callao are playing. After each game Torres shares her knowledge, actively coaching the women of the team from the lessons of game. 

During the 14 and under international tournament in Peru last week, Marylu was a coach of one of the two Peruvian teams. She is a mentor, an example of character, she binds people together. Having received so much from the game of softball Torres is paying it forward to the young women of Peru between the foul lines south of the equator. 

Who made the salad?

Vegetables are fresh, inexpensive, and readily available in Peru. The varieties are plentiful and varied. Daily you can go out and get any type of seasonal vegetable you want: potatoes (yellow, white, or sweet), onions, corn (yellow or purple) garlic, lettuce (organic and iceberg), carrots, tomatoes, casaba by the slice, herbs, cilantro, peppers, a cornucopia of vegetables.

The other day I wanted to make a salad. After eating too much bread I decided salad was a better alternative. I went 2 blocks from my home to Calle Jose Gonzalez between Orcharan and Colon. There, six days a week, Monday through Saturday, you can find Carlos Alberto Lopez Zamora.

Carlos began selling vegetables with his father 45 years ago. His father, now 83, began selling vegetables when he was 24. At 52, Carlos is a fixture in Miraflores for his customers that depend on him daily and weekly: buying the fresh items as needed. He has operated his own stand for 26 years.

Carlos is married, over 30 years, with four children: two boys and two girls ages 28 to 15. He lives in Surco. Working his push cart six days a week, through rain, cold, or illness, he has provided for the family and cared for his customers.

While I was talking with him today at least 10 customers came by for tomatoes, lettuce, potatoes, or beans. He weighs the produce and bags it: most being sold by the kilo or per piece. I was amazed how many came and said "hola Carlos" before asking about what was available.One man picked his items and went back to his vehicle to leave. Carlos and I had been talking. As not to interrupt, the customer just looked up and said, "Sol ochenta" (S/.1.80), the amount of his purchase and drove off. Carlos said he would pay tomorrow.

Carlos' business is quite simple: a push cart, a scale, pad of paper to write the amounts down, a city license, and a broom to keep the street clean. He parks the cart only six blocks away from where he is seen everyday. His work however is not simple. Once, about 20 years ago, he was robbed of everything: money, cart, and inventory.

He only sleeps two to three hours a day. He buys his wares daily. For onions and potatoes he must go buy them at 10:00 PM. The rest of the vegetables he buys at 3:30 in the morning. He takes a cab to get the goods. Each day around 7:00 or 8:00 in the morning he is back at the push cart and open until 3:00. Sunday's are for the family.

The cart has provided for his family all these years with small sales each day. When I went to get my ingredients for my salad that day I only spent S/.3.80, or about $1.36. I got wonderful organic lettuce, cilantro, a tomato, some limes, carrot, and choclo: a white large kernel sweet corn you blanch for a few seconds and add to the salad. Carlos cut the corn off the ear for me there while I waited.

When you see him he may be clean shaved or scruffy faced, but he always is upbeat and happy to see you. I remember one day asking him what lettuce was best to make a salad. He quickly quipped with a grin, "Americana" (iceberg). I wasn't sure if he was teasing me re not, as he has a sense of humor.

When you come to Peru you can get great vegetables almost everywhere. The supermarkets, the mercados, even the bodegas (markets and small grocery stores) have them. Some are fresher than others depending on the day. The supermarkets tend to be more expensive, but have a wider variety. If you want not only produce, but an experience, come to Jose Gonzalez between Ocharan and Colon. There you will see Carlos and his offerings: fresh vegetables with a sense of peace. A joyful experience.

Manna from heaven- Our daily bread

It is almost impossible to walk 10 or more blocks in Lima without passing a panaderia: bakery. Daily fresh bread is a staple in the community. Loafs of bread are available in the panaderias but the bulk of the offering is a variety of individual breads slightly larger than rolls. One has their choice of dozens of styles of breads to choose from daily.

This morning I was faced with deciding between:

• Yema
• brioche
• flauta y salvado
• salvado
• ciabatta (3 varieties)
• frances

Some are sweet. Some have herbs or sesame. Some are savory. All are fresh, baked daily: twice a day in many cases, morning and afternoon. 

The four major grocery chains, Metro, Vivanda, Totus, and Plaza Vea, all have bread made on the premises. Each with the bread ovens in plain sight. The aroma when the bread is baking is enticing. In these chains, customers select their breads from bins using tongs. As baking trays are wheeled to the bins the bread is then slid directly into the bins. Those with the tongs in hand, and a paper bag in the other, have the upper edge: getting the fresh warm bread as it arrives. Once collected the customer takes their bagged bread to the counter to be weighed for pricing: usually about S/. 5 a kilo (about 81 cents US a pound). 

In the panaderias the breads are behind glass display cases. Here you call out your orders as an employee bags up the bread. My experience has been that the panaderias sell the bread per piece averaging 15 to 30 centimos (7 to 11 cents US) per bread. Some have a caja (cashier) where you pay in advance. Others have you pay after you select the bread.

The bread street merchants, dressed in white bakers clothes, invade the residential parts of town. On the street in the morning and afternoon you will find bread carts: white covered boxes measuring 2 meters by 1 meter by 1 1/2 meters on wheels, attached to the front of a bicycle or pushed manually like an old New York push cart. The cost for the bread from the carts is similar to the panaderias. 

What you get in convenience from the bread carts, having the bread on your corner, you give up in quality. I think it is the humidity the bread is exposed to outdoors. While it doesn't make the bread taste stale, it loses its freshness. I prefer to walk an extra block to the panderia for fresher bread.

The smell of bread is throughout the city. I remember 2 Sundays ago being on a combi. I had my eyes closed and the windows on the combi were slightly open. As we drove I was aware of the fresh smell of bread along the way twice: each time opening my eyes to see a panaderia.  

The smell of bread seams to provide some therapy for me as well. Whenever I smell the warm, yeasty scent of fresh bread I feel a sense of home, calm, and security. Bread is an aroma that allows you to close your eyes and instantly taste it in your mouth. 

My preference has been  (shown to the left) ciabattas of various varieties, plain, herbs, sesame, or whole wheat, and yema. The ciabattas have a hard crust with a soft center and the yema is soft thoughout with sesame seeds and a slight sweetness. Slicing them in half with a spread of butter it is such comfort food. I am not sure if I am eating for taste, which is wonderful, or for the calm comfort it brings.

I have been eating too much bread lately. I tend to buy more than I should eat in a day. It looks so good when I select it that my eyes want more than my body should have. Then I end up eating it all because day old bread doesn't provide the comfort that same day bread does. 

One delightful feature about the bread here is that if you buy too much you can make budin: a sweet bread pudding with cinnamon, clove, sugar, and sometimes raisins, nuts, or both. The panaderias all sell budin. This delectable dessert ensures that there is plenty of fresh bread for sale daily. If the panaderia's sales for the day leave left over bread it can made in the budin: eliminating waste and loss for the panaderia. However, adding to my waistline because I love the budin.

When you come to Peru be prepared to smell and eat bread. Fresh, warm, personal breads that you can choose daily. It is part of the experience of Peru: an experience I am going to leave you for now. The bread I bought to make the pictures in the blog is calling me and it would be a sin to have it turn into day old bread. Mmmmm  could you pass the butter, this is manna from heaven. 

  

Time for a change: The china is more powerful than the luca

I find I carry lots of change in Peru. It is not uncommon for me to have 20 coins in my pocket. Soles (S/.) is the currency of Peru. Soles come in bills and coin. Bills are denominated in S/.10, S/.20, S/.50, S/.100, and S/.200. Coins include S/.1, in slang called a luca (sounds like LUka), S/.2 and S/.5 as well as cents or centimos: 1, 5, 10, 20, and 50, known on the street as a china (pronounced as chEEna).

Most daily purchases, food, transportation, etc. cost less (much less) than S./10. As a result having lots of change in my pocket is not uncommon and in many respects, necessary.

The necessity comes from merchants not having enough change to effect a transaction. As an example, think about the breakfast merchant . She offers breakfast for S/.2. As each customer pays for their meal they will hand her change. If each one had a bill, with the minimum being S/.10, she would need to carry kilos of change to accommodate all of the customers.

The other evening I was waiting to get arroz con leche and mazamorra from a street merchant I call Mazamorra Wendy. Arroz con leche is rice pudding: warm, sweet, and creamy. Mazamorra is similar to a jelly made from purple corn, cinnamon, sugar, plumbs, and other delectables: served warm, tart, as a side or topping. Together the sweet and creaminess of the arroz con leche and the tart of the mazamorra make a wonderful, hearty dessert on a cold evening. I will write more about Wendy in a future vignette.

A patron purchased S/.2 of arroz con leche from Wendy and then presented her with a S/.50 bill. This created an issue. Wendy sells portions from S/.1 to S/.6 with the average sale being S/.1 to S/.2. Being presented the S/.50 bill was like watching an accident on the interstate. Everything immediately came to a halt. People in line became onlookers to the wreck: the need for change. Everyone knew this was going to be awhile, tossing their heads in disbelief. Almost out loud you could hear the thoughts, "a S/.50? What is he thinking? Is he crazy?"

Wendy was now having to find change. First she looked at those in line as if secretly hoping one of us could break the S/.50 bill. Instinctively those in front of her started shaking their heads, some after touching the outside of their pockets and others quizzingly peering upwards. You could imagine the thought bubbles above their heads saying "do I have change for a S/.50" before they looked forward and moved their chin from side to side acknowledging they did not. Wendy, with a line of patrons at her street cart, was off to find the balance that represented 24 times the purchase. She went from one bodega to the other, finally to emerge with the change needed.

Everyone carries change. Using bills for small purchases is considered a nuisance and a disruption to the normal flow. Change is the oil of transactions in Lima. Change is also power. Having change empowers the purchaser to get what they want at a price they want.

As you have read I ride the combis. The fare for the combi is some amorphous calculation of distance between stops. Each combi, privately owned, has its own fare structure. They are all similar, however, the job of the cobrador is to extract the maximum fare the market will bear. Not having the exact amount of change that you want to pay puts you at the mercy of what the cobrador wants to charge. I have been known as saying "la china tienes mas poder que la luca." Roughly translated from my poor Spanish, the 50 cent piece has more power than the 1 sol coin.

Two routes I take daily on the combi are not well defined fare areas: one slightly beyond a zone and the other just within two zones. My first combi everyday is a route that the cobradors will 9 times out 10 accept 50 centimos without asking for more. But if I hand them S/.1 I will be, in many cases, begging for my change. The second route I take is technically S/.1 but I have found if I have 70 centimos and announce where I am going that all will accept this. Though if I hand them S/.1 I will never get change.

I always make sure I have change, small change, because la china tienes mas poder que la luca. Change becomes a bargaining chip. Not only on the combis, but the taxis and the mercados (markets) too.

Change is a safety issue as well. It is important to understand the economies of scale. Consider that all bills in Lima are considered large bills, it is important to not be on the streets flashing a lot of money. If you were in New York City on the street you wouldn't be obvious with your large bills. The same holds true in Lima, a city like New York, with over 8 million people. Change purses or pouches will be carried by men and women in Lima: keeping their bills out of site.

With 2 chinas in hand, 20 coins in my pocket, and my bills in the other pocket, I feel empowered by my change. That is a nice way to start the day and go off to work, where I am going now. Enjoy your day. It is time, for a change.

Public transportation in Peru: the dance of the cobrador

Public transportation in Peru, like people, comes in many forms. Taxis, buses and combis are the common forms of public transportation. While you may be familiar with taxis and buses, the combis, or micros, are vans or minibuses that travel various routes throughout the city: making it possible to virtually get anywhere from anywhere in Lima.

The size of a combi varies. They range from older vans, traditionally designed to carry nine passengers, to minibuses with 20 to 30 seats. The older vans have been converted inside to include seating for up to fifteen passengers.  The conversion adds padding behind the the front seats for three to sit backwards and in the rear of the van is a bench seat for three passengers. Two passengers can sit up front next to the driver. The rest of the van has three rows of seating. On the left side are seats for two passengers, an isle in the center and a single seat on the ride side: except for where the side door opens. This area is reserved for the cobrador or conductor.

The cobrador has many functions. The cobrador collects the fares, directs traffic and tells the driver when to stop and go. Sometimes he will instruct passengers to move seats to fit more into the combi and he assists people getting on and off as the combi is in a constant state of motion.

In the small combis the cobrador will be seen hanging out if the window of the sliding door. While traveling with the speed of traffic, the cobrador will be yelling the route of the combi to attract riders: not unlike a barker at the circus. However, this barker is doing so at 50 kilometers an hour.

The combi, traveling along its route, stops, or slows, along the way to pick up and drop off passengers. While there are some paraderos,  bus stops, most stops are where a potential passenger happens to be standing and raising their hands. With his hands and head hanging out of the window, the cobrador will let other vehicles in traffic know that the combi is changing lanes in front of them to either drop off or pick up a passenger. It is not uncommon to see a cobrador actually reach out and place his hand on another vehicle to make them aware that the combi is coming into their lane.


The cobrador is the one in control of where the combi stops and when it proceeds. When one wants to get off the combi they will announce next street corner, "esquina," traffic light, "semáforo," or gas station, "grifo." The driver rarely stops at the corner, stop light, etc. unless the cobrador announces it to the driver to stop or baja. When the cobrador sees a potential passenger he will tell the driver baja. As passengers get on and off you will hear, almost as if singing, "sube, baja" (get on, get off) as indications for the passengers and driver of the combi stopping or going again. 

During these stops you can watch the dance of the cobrador. It is like a ballet as the van begins to stop with the cobrador swinging the door open, placing a foot on ground and doing a pirouette, as so not to fall from a vehicle in motion. As a final passenger on the stop gets their last foot into the van, the cobrador will  tell the driver to advance. Reversing his spin he will get back on the combi as it is speeding off. Then sliding the door shut and out the window again with his heads and arms: repeating the chorus of the route only to turn around and ask for your fare.


I love the combis and travel several per day. They are cheap and they are always an experience. You can travel for as little 40 centimos (15 cents US) to one to two soles (35 to 70 cents US) depending on distance you will travel.

On a typical day I will take two combis to my fiancé's apartment and two combi's back. When I umpire I travel to the ball fields in a combi. When I go to work or an appointment for teaching I will ride the combi. However, I must caution you, combis are not for everyone.

Combis will almost always be dirty, usually crowded, and sometimes scary. The combrador's job is to get as many fares as possible. Having standing room only crowds on a combi is not uncommon. When it is crowded you will hear him say "avance avance" which means move to the rear of the combi. Move to the rear really means pack it in. The combi may be packed to an unsafe number of people, making traveling at a high speed worrisome.


One part of the experience is always trying not to "avance" to the back of the combi if your stop is near. Getting to the door through the standing crowd can be difficult. If you have ever seen the original Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, it is similar to the scene when the children and parents first enter the factory: entering the small room with no door at the other end and trying to get back out the original door they all went through. 


The video below is from my travels one day last week to a teaching appointment. The daylight trip was the ride out and the nighttime scenes are on the way home. It is about a six minute video without music. As you watch it listen to the constant chatter of the cobrador and cobradora. You will see the dance in some scenes and get a sense of the size of the vehicles used in public transport. Watch the video and take the ride with me, Señor Mark: Expatriate in Peru.

Breakfast Anyone?

Monday through Saturday from 6:00 AM to 11:00 AM in Surquillo, Lima, Peru, at the corner of Avenues Inca and Angamos, is a street breakfast merchant: two employees, mother and daughter, that reside about one half block from the corner on Inca. Each day they wheel a vending cart that consists of two gas burners for cooking, pots, pans, cups, spices, coffee, eggs, onions, cheese, potatoes (sweet and regular), oatmeal, vegetable oil, water, and bread. The bread is fresh, and often hot out of the oven, French bread rolls from the bakery across the street.  

During their hours of operation they prepare from the cart breakfast for local residents and business personnel. In front of the cart is a bench and from behind the cart the mother cooks fresh eggs and potatoes. A pot of coffee and oatmeal sit waiting for customers. Bread is bought daily. The menu is limited: fresh and the quality is consistent. Any day one can get a fried egg and French bread sandwich with coffee for S/. 2.00 (two Soles): S/. 1.50 for the sandwich and S/. 0.50 for the coffee. 

The daughter will deliver or pick up. Delivery is of food. Pick up is for cups. All cups are ceramic: a heavy mug. If one had delivery or picked up their meal and took it to their work, the daughter would stop to pick up the mug. One nice feature of the ceramic mug, coupled with the food being fresh and cooked by the mother, is that the customers feel more like they are having a home cooked meal, instead of a fast food take out.

  

The bench in front of the cart becomes a seating area for those to eat their meals. You will see the same people gathering for breakfast or coffee at the same time. The street breakfast merchant creates a social satisfaction as well as supplying low cost meals.

Having developed the customer base, the merchant can purchase supplies daily with confidence and not be concerned with excess: keeping everything fresh. The food that is offered allows for a quick production time. Customers still get their meals quickly and receive a higher quality because it is cooked to order. They come daily because of consistency, both quality of food and hours, delivery, and the camaraderie that are offered by the merchant's stand.


The camaraderie became apparent to me one day when she did not bring the cart out. I found I missed not only my coffee but the morning conversation. The next day her daughter was alone to open the cart. Instead of delivery, this day the daughter had on the familiar apron of her mother and was cooking alone. I asked her where they were the previous day and why she was cooking instead of her mother. She explained that her mother was very sick and that while she was not accustomed to cooking she had to open so no other merchants poached their spot.


That day I realized that cart was more of a coffee stop and part my community: similar to a Facebook friend you take for granted until you realize they are not in your friends anymore. So I went to the mercado (market) and bought some flowers. That day I delivered them to the mother at the home on Inca and told her to get well soon because she was missed.

The mother is well, the cart is there and I am getting my coffee daily. I also get a sandwich when I don't have time at home for breakfast. Recently, in addition to the fried egg or sweet potato sandwich, she started offering fried fish. I found I love the fish: again only S/. 1.50 for the sandwich.


One morning, recently, she asked me what I wanted and excitedly said she had the fish I liked. I was in the mood for an egg sandwich, but didn't want to disappoint her. So I said let me have a fresh fried egg and the fish on the French bread roll. It was delicious. I have named the sandwich, but not to offend anyone let's just say I call it the name of a famous Peruvian cartoon: pezweon. For more information on that I have included a video here below.





I will be telling you about the other street food experiences I've had here in Peru. I have found that I am lover of street food: cheap, fresh, and always an experience. For today you had breakfast. Stay tuned for lunch. 

I hear the whistle:run for your knives.

Once a week I will hear in Miraflores, Lima, Peru, a familiar whistle. This is a distinctive whistle: one that is known to all as the whistle of the knife sharpener. The knife sharpener is a one person business. Production, sales, marketing, and customer service are all provided by the same individual: walking through the streets with a device designed to spin a stone for knife sharpening.

 

The device consists of a metal frame with one large wheel that is attached to a pedal. It is engineered so the sharpener may walk with the frame in his hands as the large wheel rolls it through the streets. There is a sharpening stone that is in the shape of a circle. When put into use, a leather belt is used to transfer the power of the large wheel to the smaller round sharpening stone. Using his foot, the knife sharpener pedals the large wheel, with which the belt spins the sharpening stone: at the same time he sharpens the customer’s knife.

Weekly the knife sharpener will walk through the streets. Each day of the week consists of the same route for that day: Monday one route every Monday and Tuesday another route every Tuesday, etc. As the knife sharpener walks through the street the familiar whistle is blown over and over again. Residents on the route are made aware that the knife sharpener is available by hearing the whistle. The consistency of the route and the sound of the whistle are the marketing and sales for the business. I can personally attest to this as I had my knives sharpened because one week I heard the whistle. It was so distinctive that I went outside to see what it was. After learning that it was the sharpener, the next week when I heard the whistle, I ran outside with three knives (sharp points down) to be sharpened. The cost for the service was three Soles[1] per knife.

The knives are sharpened quickly, expertly, to the point of shaving the hairs off your arm: something that I have never been able to do on my own. What appears to be a simple skill with simple equipment is really a wonderful example of personal service, convenience, craft, and art form. Imagine standing one foot with a knife in your hand, peddling the other foot like a bicycle, with two spinning wheels going round and round, and you are sharpening the knife to a fine edge. That is an art form. 

I hear the whistle. I’m off to the kitchen drawers to check the knives. Come back soon. Next time I will tell you about the breakfast street merchant and the sandwich I invented. Chau.

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[1] Sol or Soles is the currency of Peru. As of September 13, 2010  the exchange rate is S/. 2.79 per $1.00.

Señor Mark?

Let me introduce myself. My name is John Mark Wallach. I have used my middle name, Mark, my whole life: or as long as I can remember. When asked why I use my middle name my response has been I am John Mark, a son of Mary: just like the prophet Mark. If it was good enough for him, it is good enough for me.

Living in South Florida since 1985 I was married for 21 years, have 3 children, all grown, and a grandchild. In early 2007, I was divorced and shortly after my business was failing. I was in the mortgage business. I held on to the business about 2 years too long. Finally ending it in 2009. Alone, broke, and without opportunity, unemployment was over 12%, I decided to return to university online.

I made another decision at the same time. I realized that one can be rich anywhere they want to be. One can be poor anywhere they want to be. They just can't be middle class anywhere they want to be, because they are holding on to too much "stuff." I definitely wasn't rich, but if I was willing to give up my "things," I could be poor: where I was happy.

So I did. In December of 2009 I gave it all up and embarked on an adventure and moved to Lima, Peru. Arriving with all I could put in 2 suitcases, I began a new life in South America with minimal Spanish and a renewed optimism.

I learned quickly that for most Peruvians the name Wallach was difficult to pronounce and possibly even write. The local supermarket chain has a rewards card for discounts. I signed up for the card and subsequently noticed that when I would use it at the register the name that would show up was Señor Mark. Apparently the person processing the card had difficulty understanding the name and chose to put my name Mark in the computer as opposed to Wallach.

When I would come home to my apartment the watchman would struggle with my name. Each time I would enter the building he would say hola Señor Walsh, or Wayak, or some other pronunciation. In Spanish, the double LL and the CH create a problem for pronouncing the name Wallach: having different rules than in English.

Ultimately, he began calling me Señor Mark. Others in the building began to hear the doorman. Within a short period of time, many were calling me  Señor Mark. I have even found that those I meet in public would call me Señor Mark. The sense I get is a real genuine desire to be respectful coupled with the inability to pronounce the name. Instead of being rude, they decide to call me Señor Mark.

So Señor Mark it is. As Señor Mark, an expatriate in Peru, I will be sharing stories of the people I meet and the experiences I encounter. The taxi driver, the combi cobrador, the street food merchants, all present amazing stories of people and the lives they lead. I will share them with you in this blog.

As you follow my adventure I ask that you understand things are different in Peru than in North America. Open your mind to the vignettes presented understanding different is not better nor worse. It is just different.

The differences are amazing because I have found they demonstrate our similarities in life, walking an alternative path. Walk this path with me: Señor Mark an expatriate in Peru.