Huanchaco

Our adventure began with an 11 PM flight from Dallas to Lima, lie-flat seats and a supposedly decent night's sleep, with a bright-eyed and bushy-tailed start the next morning. It mostly kinda worked out that way, except that we had been unable to get a morning flight from Lima to our first real destination - Huanchaco, on the north coast, until late that afternoon. We had a few hours to kill, so we checked our duffels in for the next flight, and tossed our carry-on luggage in the back of a cab.

 Rather than go into Lima proper, we asked the driver to take us to a public square in Callao, a seaport district nearby to the airport. We chilled on park benches in the overcast - kicked back and semi-snoozed for a couple of hours - and watched the port machinery unload containers from a huge transport ship. Also, it turns out that the claim that you can get substantial sunburns even on an overcast day is not bullshit after all, because we did that thing.

We weren't too keen on strolling around the neighborhood of a working dock, pulling our carryon luggage behind us, so we stayed in the park until Noon, when a restaurant a block away, Cabos, opened for business.

Cabos is located in a gated marina, overlooking berthing for private watercraft, and, um, a Sierra class submarine. The sub was built for the Peruvian navy by Electric Boat Company in Connecticut, and served actively until a decade and a half ago - it is now a museum.

The menu was mostly seafood - Peru is the second largest fishing nation after China (according to a guidebook), which I guess refers to the amount of fish caught, because I suspect there are larger nations that catch fish - and so we sensibly ignored selections that weren't seafood. Above front is succulent battered and fried calamari with yellow pepper rice. The shot glass holds chunks of raw scallops in Leche de Tigre (Tiger's Milk), a citrus based marinade containing lime juice, onion, chiles, fish juices, secret spices... And it was wicked good to dip the calamari into as well. Above, a plate of delicately seasoned Asian rice, festooned with chunks of fried sea bass, and topped with a prawn omelette.

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We arrived at our hotel in Huanchaco in the early evening. Our hotel was the Caballito de Totora, where we got a "matrimonial suite". Which we gathered is simply the name for a room containing a full on king size bed, as rooms typically will contain some number of twin or double beds. As it turns out, ours also contained a ginormous raised whirlpool tub.

Tired traveler was flippin' tired...

One of the challenges we had faced killing time until our late afternoon flight was that it was not only Sunday, but National Election Day. Many of the Interesting Things we might have visited were closed, so we, you know, hung out in a park and got sunburns instead. Seriously, though, National Election Day is a huge deal in Peru. Voting is mandatory. There is an 80 Soles fine if someone doesn't vote. Also, sales of alcohol are prohibited. This made us sad, because we had not been able to order drinks with lunch.

It made us even more sad to learn from our server at dinner that night that the prohibition against alcohol sales did not end at 4:00 PM as we had elsewhere been told, but extended until midnight. This was problematic, because we had been yearning for inaugural pisco sours. The pisco sour is closely identified with South America, but its origins are in Peru. Yes, Chile also has pisco souresque claims, but on this day, in this blog, it's hardcore Peruvian.

Suck it, Chile.

As we sat waiting for our supper, all other patrons left our dining area. At which point, our server crossed himself (seriously), smiled, and made us a couple. We tipped him well.

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A brief note regarding civilization. 

Below is a picture from our breakfast table the next morning at our hotel. We asked for coffee. What we received was a small pitcher of espresso, along with a small pitcher of milk, and a large pitcher of hot water. I actually had to ask how this worked, before slapping my forehead when I received the answer. Pour as much espresso as you want into your cup. Add hot water for café americano, however strong you want it. 

What civilization looks like

It is a joy to breakfast in a civilized country.

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North of the pier, where the waves are smaller and you can learn to surf from one of the many outfits that will teach you. We were sorely tempted, and would have done it if we had more time...

Huanchaco was a sleepy fishing village and surfer hangout until it was highlighted in a couple of guidebooks on Peru. Now it's a sleepy fishing village and surfer hangout that tourists visit also. The surfing has an international reputation, and the waterfront is lined with inexpensive hostels patronized by surfers from all over the world. The town retains its laid-back vibe. It reminded me to a degree of Pacific Beach in San Diego, but with off the rails seafood everywhere you look.

This region of Peru lays claim to be the birthplace of ceviche. So we stopped in at Sombrero for a mid-day ceviche snack. Left to right: Sea bass ceviche in a yellow chile sauce, prawns in haystack tempura, and big white kernels of Inca corn. Half a pitcher of sangria for me, because I was obviously trying to hurt myself, and chilcano huanchaquero: pisco, ginger ale, and lime for the chilcano, and a splash of blue curacao to put the local stamp on it.

From our second-floor vantage point at Sombrero, we could see the waterfront below getting busy and boisterous with beachgoers. Also visible are the ends of the slender boats made of reeds, hat the local fishermen straddle and paddle out to sea each morning. In Spanish, they are called caballitos de totora, "little reed horses" - the hotel we were staying at is named after them.

A closer look shows the small reed boats leaning up against a bamboo railing, along with the nets the fishermen use each day. In the afternoons, some of the fishermen earn additional money giving rides out to the end of the pier and back. Their main work is finished early in the morning, when they return to shore with nets full of the fish that will appear on diners' plates that day and evening.

Such as this one, being prepared for our supper. This photo was taken looking down over the railing of our second-floor open-air dining patio, at the large wood fire grill that stood out in the street in front of the restaurant, and where the entrees were prepared. The fish was fresh caught that day - the name on the menu seemed to translate to "jack" although this did not necessarily look like a variety of jack - and it was sold by the kilogram. Ours was 1.5 kg. We opted to share it between the two of us.

Our server presented us with a ginormous grilled sea creature, along with a side of sweet potatoes and french fried potatoes. The fish was mild juicy, the skin crisped, salty, and enticingly seasoned. What we have noticed about all of the Peruvian cooking we have encountered so far is that the seasonings are noteworthy yet subdued; always complimentary and delightful, but without the sharp impact of some distinctly seasoned foods. Compelling, yet seemingly just out of reach if one pauses to try to decipher just what flavours are present. Probably one factor is that we're tasting things we simply don't encounter or have readily available at home. And yet, unfamiliarity alone cannot account for the impression; the impact is sublime; as if the food simply understands that it is absolutely delicious, and feels no need to show off.

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Fifteen minutes inland from Huanchaco lie the ruins of Chan Chan. Pretty much a must-see if you are a tourist in the area. It was built by the Chimú, a civilization predating/overlapping the Incas (who conquered them around 1470 AD), and it's the largest adobe settlement in the world, occupying 11 square miles. The thing of it is, lots and lots of it is just a few feet tall. This is because, although it resides in a region with a typically dry climate, there has been enough rain over a few hundred years to seriously wear it down. Thus, to really appreciate what it represents, you either need to visit it with a guide or otherwise study it in some interested detail.

But here's a couple of pictures anyway.

This is one of the nine major palaces that were built over the years (every king got his own), and is what you get to tour for the price of your ticket. There is a lot of impressive and attractive design work on the walls, which of course used to be taller. This is a small section of the interior portion, containing a number of different rooms, offices, etc. The entire palace is quite large.

This wall has been adorned with depictions relevant to the behavior of the sea and the fish - important to a people who depended in part on seafood to stay alive. Each of the rising sections corresponds to a month. There are small variations at particular points, which convey important seasonal information - note that this was a culture that lacked written records.

Here is a section in which the fish are pointed in one direction one month, and then are depicted pointing the other direction another month. Our guide informed us that this represented a change in ocean currents. Or perhaps it was the impact of an El Niño current... There are pelicans also. Alrighty, there you go!

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We were all set to go out and nail another incredible Peruvian feast, but as it turned out, many of the restaurants we wanted to visit closed mid-afternoon, or were closed on Monday - which it was. So we changed our objective to cheap/good eats, and headed to... Surfer Burger!!

Night had fallen and the streets were nearly deserted. The unmistakable aroma of recreational combustibles wafted from a couple of the surf hostels we passed on our walk to dinner. Surfer Burger is a hole in the wall, decorated with surfboards, lurid murals, and wall graffiti left behind by previous customers. The menu consists of about 14 different kinds of burgers with a couple of sides and beverages. Julia got a Hawaiian burger (which had a slice of pineapple on it), and I got a double meat/double cheese/double bacon burger. Both burgers were straight-up legit. We washed them down with a couple 650 ml pee-water pilsners. Perfection.

We left Surfer Burger in search of picarones - a fried dough delight - ideally from a street vendor. We got our wish!

The dough is made from sweet potatoe flour. The vendor took pieces of dough, pinched them in the center to make a hole, twirled the dough around her finger to make dough-rings, and plopped them in to a wok of hot oil. When they're done cooking, they're put in a paper tray, drizzled in a sweet syrup flavoured with cinnamon and spices, and served hot. They were the perfect cheap eats dessert, and we wolfed them down.

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We ran into a few Peruvian Hairless dogs in the Chan Chan area. I took a couple of minutes to bond with one of them.

This guy loved having his special ear-spot rubbed. He was a total sweetie.

The breed dates back to pre-Incan cultures. The Spanish conquest of Peru nearly caused their extinction, but they survived in rural areas, as the inhabitants ascribed to them mystical powers. Their skin feels leathery, and the hairs that exist are wiry and stiff. The dogs themselves are totally chill.

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For our last meal in Huanchaco, we selected the Umi Sushi House and Bar.

It is located in the middle of a long dirt alley, a block off the main shore-front road. There are no other illuminated doors in the entire alley. There is an "Open" sign, and what you see above. You have to knock on the door to gain admittance.

I was smiling at this place before we ever got inside. The food did not disappoint.

Miso soup, a variety of rolls both raw and cooked, sauv blanc, and custom pisco drinks with house-made ginger ale

Salmon temaki, with avocado