4in15: A touch of summer

It's a long way to go just to get your hair washed.

I kind of like the snow. But I suppose mama and papa don't since they woke us up a three o'clock in the morning a few weeks ago and took us straight to the airport. They put us on a plane and headed off as far as they could. The other end of the world even. Twenty-four hours later we rolled up to my Mimi's rockin' new pad in Miraflores. It was summer there. I'd never been to deepest, darkest Peru, though my sister had.

From Holy Lima!

The skies there reminded me a lot of Paris in November, but without the rain. Of all the luck, I go to Peru when El Niño decides to make a rare appearance. But this was no ordinary trip. No lazy vacation in the land of Inca Cola. No jungle expedition to lost civilizations. I was being baptized, and the gray skies weren't getting in the way of my one-way ticket out of Limbo. No siree!

After the ceremony I could breathe easy knowing I would join my papa in heaven (he thinks) once the big journey is over. But my buddy Milo still had an important ceremony ahead of him. A couple of weeks later Papa walked up the Morro where his umbilical cord was buried next to Luma's. It was quite a celebration and I'm happy that they are together after all this time. Milo's mama and Papa are too.

From Christmas in shorts

This is my very first summer Christmas ever. I suppose it's my second Christmas ever so I've spent half my Christmases in light cotton. Hot or cold, Mimi knows how to do it right! I directed a careful decoration of the Christmas tree and provided light entertainment. New Year showed up six hours late, but it did arrive. And when it did there is nothing like a lightly-regulated country to place huge amounts of explosives in the hands of small children. I was a little upset that my parents didn't go local on that one. Still, I enjoyed the show.

Now my sister told me quite a bit about Peru. She told me of the Inca's and the pre-Inca cultures. She described the beautiful colonial architecture that adorns many of its cities. She talked about the streets, the people, the jungle, the high Andes and the dry coast. But she didn't tell me what really mattered. No, to know Peru, to really know Peru - or at least Lima - you must have a grasp, an understanding, a personal experience - you must know Wong.

Yeap, you got your Ceviche and Lomo Saltado, white houses in Asia, ATVs and SUVs, suntan lotion, baby alpaca, Mount Huascaran and the Ucayali River, Regatas, Frontón and bull fights; you have pisco sours and cerveza cusqueña, Larco Mar, Trujillo, Miraflores, San Isidro, La Mar, Astrid y Gastón, Pescados Capitales and La Gloria, corrupt legislators, balconies, funky sculptures, pan flute music, el cajón, the bridge where people no longer sigh, traffic, butifarras, garúa, Vargas-Llosa, pollution, potatoes and blue corn, taxis honking, mudslides and earthquakes, green parks in the desert, chicha, Villa El Salvador, Octopus and adobe. But forget it. You want to live the ultimate experience? Get yourself to Wong!