Gringo In Peru

Since just about every other post here is about my latest adventures at some random market, I figured it was time to talk about Peru’s supermarkets.

There are two big ones, Wong and Plaza Vea along with a few smaller chains owned by the pair.

(One note, I’m going to compare these stores to chains where I’ve lived, so unless you’ve spent time in the midwest or mid-south the references will be lost on you).

First stop on our tour de grocer is Wong. Like a good American success story it began as a small family-owned grocer in Lima and is now the country’s largest chain.

Wong

Wong’s slogan is “where shopping is a pleasure” and is by far the nicest of the big two. It reminds me of Fargo-Moorhead favorite Hornbacher’s, except with booze and everyone speaks Spanish.

Just about everyday is sample day at Wong. Product reps are always handing out bite sized cheese cubes, sausage cuts and dixie cups of milk, yogurt or coffee.

Here grocery store employees don’t dirty their collective hands with things like samples. Instead people working for the companies do all the sample work. They are usually dressed in a company-issued shirt or whole outfit with the logo pasted all over it. This phenomena continues at department stores where checking out can sometimes be impossible. In any given department there may be 20 people working, but only one actually works for the store and can operate a cash register.

Wong employees wear crisp red and white outfits (combinations differ depending on what department he or she works in.) It even has bag boys who wear what look like chef’s coats and tight red beanies. Wong workers genuinely seem happy to work there.

Then there’s Plaza Vea, which is more like a Cub Foods and a poorman’s Super Target.

Plaza Vea

Plaza Vea has better variety and better prices, but its a big box with little personality.

(Whenever we drive by a Plaza Vea I start singing the name over and over again to the chorus of the 80’s hit “Rock Me Amadeus” complete with the “oh, oh, oh, Plaza Vea”. Try it, its catchy.)

Sunday’s at Plaza Vea are fun because that’s when just about every product rep is working. There are so many samples to be had, the store becomes a processed food tapas bar complete with wine samples to wash it all down.

Plaza Vea offers more general merchandise than Wong, but both sell TV’s, housewares, school supplies (Wong actually has a surprisingly nice stationary department) and appliances. There are no all-under-one-roof stores (like Wal-Mart or Target) here so Plaza Vea seems to fill that void.

One thing Peruvians seem to go crazy for at the grocery store is fresh bread. Sure you can buy pre-packaged wonder bread type loaves (here its Bimbo, which you can buy in the U.S.), but that’s not what people line up for.

At both stores customers grab paper bags and pick various small loafs and rolls out of wicker baskets. The bread comes in white, intergral (whole wheat), pita, crusty, chewy about 20 varieties in all.

There’s a sign on the wall telling when the next “fresh” batch will find its way out of the oven and into the wicker baskets. We’ve been at the store when this happens and its a yeast-fueled frenzy of bread buying. People push their way towards the bread like it was the last food on earth. During peak times this happens every 15 minutes or so.

I can’t write a grocery store story without mentioning Metro. It’s Wong’s dirty sister. Everything there is self-serve. Including the butcher counter. Laying out in coolers where the usually nicely wrapped steaks and chicken parts live are piles of meat. Customers grab plastic produce bags, a set of tongs and fill the bags up with the cuts they want. A worker behind the counter weighs it and tags it with a price.

Think of your favorite grocery store at its busiest and make it two floors. That’s Metro everyday. If Wong is where shopping is a pleasure, Metro is where shopping is combat with a cart.

Sunday we took in Peru’s first ever international gastronomical festival. Some of Lima’s best restaurants took over a former army barracks for hand to mouth culinary combat.

Getting inside was half the fun.

Besides the crazier than normal traffic, parking was another adventure. People parked where ever they could. It was a lot like Kentucky Derby day when people living around the track open up their lawns charging top dollar for a spot. Here nobody was making any money, instead drivers tried to squeeze their cars where they could, lawns, the narrow spaces between houses and dead end alleys.

We had to weave our way through traffic, the maze of parked cars and an semi-angry mob to get to the door. For some reason, hundreds of people were waiting outside the gate. Now, I’m not sure if they wanted tickets (which you had to get in advance at a Lima grocery store) or if they just wanted to hang out to beg. The line of non-ticket holders wrapped around and doubled back around two blocks.

We had tickets and walked right in.

Inside we had some of the best anticuchos (for those of you new readers, its cow heart marinated and grilled) ever, some sort of pork dish, fried and mashed bananas, fresh civiche (raw fish marinated in lime juice, onions and peppers) cut to order and other delights.

All of it was good and we all ate way too much.

We arrived around noon and it was busy, buy the time we left at 3 p.m. it was wall to wall people.

As we were leaving, running through traffic and navigating through the cars parked on the sidewalk, I asked Vanessa “You know what Peru needs?”

“Order,” she replied.

“I was thinking a parking ramp,” I said, surprised. “but order is better.”

This weekend we also hit the mall where Sony was showing off its newest cellphones with cameras. Vanessa and I let one of the product reps take our picture. I’ve posted it in the gallery to prove to all of our friends we are still alive.

Today marks Vanessa and I’s two month anniversary.

Two months ago we were in Fargo-Moorhead getting married.  A little over a month ago we were moving out of our fabulous St. Louis Park apartment. Now we are in Lima, Peru 4,200 miles later.

Who would have thunk it?

From coast to coast, shuttered factories dot the U.S. landscape.

We hear politicians all the time talk about how we need to bring those jobs back to U.S. shores.

I have a plan.

Turn all those empty factories into TV, movie and music studios. What folks from D.C. to Main street don’t understand is popular culture is our largest export and its time to cash in.

Here in Peru American programs are all over the dial.

Syndicated U.S. shows on the Peruvian channels (canals in Spanish) are dubbed. Newer subtitled shows are aired on canals owned and branded by studio (Warner, Sony, Universal, Fox) usually a few weeks after they air on American networks

For example, the Daily show and TMZ both air here. The daily show is two weeks behind, one episode also airs on CNN Saturday mornings a week late. Same thing with TMZ, but Peruvians don’t need to hear all the gossip from Hollywood, they’ve got Chollywood.

Every night at 9 we turn our TV to Magaly TeVe Peru’s own gossip show.

She is a one woman TMZ, sending cameras out to follow Peru’s home grown “celebrities”. It’s one of the highest rated shows here for 11 years running.

Most of the show is our host Magaly talks about what she thinks about the person she has video of while her producer types phrases poking fun at her that show up at the bottom of the screen.

One of my favorite parts of the show is the promo for “chisme fono” gossip phone. Call your tips into the crow.

Magaly isn’t the only Pruvian produced TV show. Prime time is full of telenovelas (nightly soap operas, mainly set in Lima), studio type variety shows and interactive type game shows.

There are also the nightly rock throwing reports (news) which are a bit different. While the anchors don’t read ads, the monitors behind them feature camera-friendly logos, during some segments a product (cell phone, cup of coffee, box of juice) is placed next to anchor while they read.

This is starting to happen in the U.S. on a limited basis. Looks like the lines of journalism and commercialism are already being crossed around the world.

Sunday I tried cuy.

Cuy is guinea pig. It’s a traditional South American meat served mainly in the rural regions of Peru and Bolivia.

We didn’t have to travel further than the meat counter at the supermarket for ours.

Cutting the cuy

Sometimes you see them served and sold skinned with the head still attached. Thankfully this one had been cleaned and looked more like a really thin chicken breast.

It didn’t taste like chicken, but the meat (what little there was) had a “mouth feel” a lot like dark meat chicken. The taste wasn’t bad, but it didn’t remind me of anything.

After the initial tasting Vanessa’s uncles prepared me a piece with lime juice and salt. That did taste better, still I wasn’t terribly impressed. I’m glad I tried it. It wasn’t disgusting.

As you can see Vanessa’s mom hosted a barbecue Sunday afternoon. In all there were about 20 aunts, uncles and cousins eating, drinking and socializing.

I’ve discovered there are many stages to the Peruvian barbecue.

Like any good party it starts with drinks. It was mostly Coke and Inka Kola. Although her family did tear through two brand new bottles of Bailey’s in record time.

Contrary to popular belief not all Hispanics like hot food and Peruvian food is nothing like Mexican. It’s a common misconception even I had before meeting Vanessa.

Meat (clockwise from top) Chicken, cuy, chorizo, chicken

First comes the chorizo (which is like an Italian sausage) which is spit and put on a round bun (like a hamburger) and smeared with condiments. Ketchup and mustard are represented along with huacatay (wak-a-tie) a green pepper sauce (a mild burn), rocoto a red pepper sauce (hot), and aji de gallina a yellow pepper sauce (not hot) which is served with everything here, its  as common as ketchup is in the states.

Then came the salads. Then the chicken. Then the cuy and beef. We finished with ice cream. Hurray!

Hamburgers are not popular back yard fare here. In fact, ground beef isn’t used very often. If you really have the hankering for a burger all the American fast food all the favorites are represented here.

A good time was had by all.

During the barbecue it really sunk in I’m now related to people on another continent. Chances are my North American family and South American family will never meet.

This morning we went to Asia. Not the continent or the rockin’ 80’s band (“Heat of the moment” anyone?).

Asia is the area where Vanessa’s parents have their beach house, near the Pacific Ocean.

You’ve got to remember it’s still winter here in the Southern Hemisphere. After we got out of Lima proper the highway to the beach was nearly empty. It was littered with more pueblo neighborhoods, tall mountains topped with sand and the skeltons of empty billboards the size small drive-in movie screens.

Fresh bread going in

Vanessa tells me during the summer time (that starts after Christmas) the roadside is packed with little stores and restaurants. One of the few things open today was a bread stand. The stand itself wasn’t much more than concrete and a thatch roof. No name or sign. Just a off to the side were two big wood-fired clay ovens. One was for the bread the other for the meat.

Behind the counter were three women making the bread. Twisting piles of dough into pita-like loves and breadsticks filled with olives or cheese. Each order came fresh out of the oven in a brown paper sack. It was fresh, hot bread, what’s not to like.

After the bread stop, we continued on to the playa (beach house). The house is on a private beach, meaning its part of a group of houses belonging to one beach. We had to drive through an outer security wall and an inner security gate to get inside the compound. Inside there are four levels of beach house, A is the closest to the ocean, D is the furtherest away. Vanessa’s parents house is on the A level.

The beach house compound

It was a lot like visiting the lake country during the late fall/early spring. Not much activity except for some construction crews and maids getting homes ready for the summer.

The house may be an “A”, but its not like the ocean is right outside the door. You have to walk a good 150-200 yards to the Pacific. So I took off my shoes and made the trek. The sand is really soft and fine and littered with little shells. The waves were crashing hard and there were a few surfers brave enough to take them on. They didn’t last very long. I didn’t get close enough to dip my toe into it. I know from experience, its cold.

On our way home we stopped at a small town named Mala to take in another market.

Beach house ocean view

Now this is what I thought South America would look like, dusty streets, crowded by businesses and motorcycles.

This market was unlike anything I’ve seen so far. Fresh fish, fruit and lunch counters. Vanessa had a fresh juice. The girl behind the counter cuts up fresh fruit, adds some water, sticks in a blender and voila fresh juice.

Deep inside the market we came to one of many vendors offering fresh fruit and she wasn’t afraid to share.

Want a Mango? She cut us off a piece. How fresh are the Bananas? Here try one for yourself.

It was awesome.

A guy who spoke English also offered me some fresh octopus two women were chopping up at the time. I passed, worried about what I like to call the “Inca Revenge” which, I’m happy to report hasn’t happened yet.

While we strolled through the market, we were followed by three boys who were about 10 years old. They wanted to carry our bags full of fruit to the car, for a price of course. Even though they were told they weren’t needed, they still followed us.

Once again there’s a slew of pictures for you to enjoy at the bottom of the post.

Also, feel free to leave a comment or send me an e-mail. It’s always good to know somebody somewhere is reading the blog.

Another day another market.

Vanessa mom and me went to Gamarra a clothes horse’s dream.

Before we went I was warned not to bring my wallet or camera. Apparently pickpockets work the neighborhood, despite a major police presence.

All the streets are blocked off, because it didn’t take too long for them to get full. Gamarra is lined with four and five stories buildings, inside are small store fronts offering shoes, major label clothing, costume jewelry, and the raw materials to make the outfit and or necklace of your dreams.

On the street there more people hawking more things. There are also guys with business cards offering in a thick Hispanic accent “Lacoste, Tommy (Hilfiger), Dolce and Gabbana”. Those “barkers” were trying to get you to go inside to a certain store and they get a commission.

We barely saw all the goods Gamarra had to offer. We went into a few buildings. It’s quite overwhelming. You would be surprised how many possibly-faux garments you can pile into a building. Now, I can’t be certain these were knock-offs. Many shirts had inside tags with the correct brand names on them, plus paper price tags that look like what you would see in Macy’s.

Each vendor offers slightly different versions of the same thing, at different prices. We talked with one woman who was selling Lacoste and Polo “branded” shirts (with $98 department store looking price tags) for about $17. They looked legit to me. Unfortunately, I have no money.

It is my understanding that these shirts may in fact be the real thing. There are a lot of sweatshops (clothing factories) in Peru. Sometimes sweatshop owners make more garments than the company that hired them (Polo, Aeropostale, DKNY, Old Navy, etc.) needs. Those extras end up on the “street” so to speak, in places like Gamarra.

If I’m wrong, please correct me.

While I didn’t take pictures, through the wonders of the Internet I did find a flickr page that captures the scene.

Add Gamarra, to central Lima as places I need to revisit.

Last night we were invited to the home of a friend of Vanessa’s family for dinner.

One thing you have to understand about eating here, most people have “supper” around 8 or so.

Percy and Pocha treated us to a great backyard barbecue.

The food and conversation were outstanding and we left around 11:30. I would love to be invited back.

Last Sunday we got up early and went for a little ride.

First we stopped at a restaurant called KIO for some breakfast.

This wasn’t your usual eggs and hash brown day starter. (Actually, you rarely find what we American’s call breakfast here. Vanessa’s family likes toasted sandwiches for breakfast. Now, I don’t know if that’s common or just plain weird. The up side to Peruvian breakfast is all the fresh juices. Mango, papaya, pineapple, orange just to name a few).

Pork and Coffee breakfast of champions

We had Chicheron (which is probably spelled wrong) sandwiches. Which are a fried pork, laid on a bed of fried sweet potatoes piled inside a French-bread type roll. They were yummy.

If you don’t think this sounds like breakfast, let me tell you the place was packed for 9 a.m. In fact, there were just four dishes on the menu: chicheron, hamburger, hot dogs and chorizo (a spicy brat-type sausage). Chicheron was by far the biggest seller.

From there we drove around North Lima.

These were areas one would classify as working class bordering on poor. This was the South America I’ve seen on the news where there are people and garbage everywhere and if you looked close enough people pissing on the street. (Not a joke).

Don’t worry mom, we were on the main road so nothing bad was going to happen to us. Looking up the mountain there were for lack of a better word squats or as they are called here pueblos. Rows and rows of them. I’ve been told by many people that the poor tend to just build on this land with no real regard for property rights. Land owners don’t seem to mind until they want to do something with the land. That’s when the people revolt, and rocks are thrown.

One interesting note about TV coverage of the riots. When they happen the photographers are right in the middle of it all. When they are over, crews follow the injured to the emergency room. So the TV news is plastered with shots of people getting stitches, large gaping head wounds, people writhing in pain and if its bad enough body bags and toe tags. In my 12 years of working in TV you would never have that kind of access or the license to show that footage.

Lima is also home to the Rimac river. Which people also squat along. The problem with that is the banks are constantly eroding, so their shanties eventually fall into the river or dry river bank depending on the season.

Hubcap anyone?

Along the road there were a lot of auto parts dealers. This wasn’t anything like NAPA or Checker. Vendors would set up along the streets in kiosks selling everything you could imagine. There were some guys with “trees” of mufflers standing by with torches ready to make a roadside repair. My father-in-law tells me you go to these guys if you need something done quick and cheap.

Most people in this area don’t drive. They get around using the combies. Those are mostly over sized Volkswagen buses and the occaisonal real bus that act as a make shift mass transit. Combies don’t run on a regular schedule, but do run routes. On the side of each combi are the “stops” it makes. You stand by the side of the road at make shift shelters and if the combi is going where your going you get on.

Combi drivers put teenagers who pile friends into Dad’s Buick to shame. It’s an amazing feat of physics and economics to see these guys operate. Nobody said it was safe, but it is necessary for many Peruvians.

In the middle of this all was a bright shiny, new mall. What I’m told is the mall was built so the people in the area would hopefully stay away from the “other” mall which is in the rich area. Gentrification truly knows no boundaries. If that story is true, I wonder how many pueblos were destroyed to build it.

In order to form a more aesthetic website I’m now going to include a gallery of picts at the end of the post. Featured shots include the beach, a combi line and a look at the pueblos from a distance.

During our extended stay in Peru, we’ve been printing off and filling out paperwork to make my wife an American. (Let me tell you, UPS shipments to the U.S. are not cheap).

Today our lawyer asked for a copy of Vanessa’s birth certificate. So, Vanessa’s mom and myself went down to city hall in the district where she was born for a copy.

The whole process took about 5 minutes (very unlike the states).

Now we have yet another piece of paper to send back.

It seems like it will never end.

Saturday night we toured downtown Lima.

This was only the second time I had been in the actual city of Lima. Like any major city this is the reason why all the suburbs exist, but I’ve found people rarely venture down there. Few have reason to. Miraflores is the commercial center and where most tourists stay. Downtown is mainly government buildings and churches. Although there was plenty of activity Saturday night.

Outside San Francisco

Tourists and backpackers however are drawn to central Lima because of the train station and cheap hostels.

This was just my second trip to Lima proper. It looks like the South America I had pictured in my mind. Large squares bordered by palatial buildings and churches connected by a maze of narrow side streets with small shops tucked in every corner.

We stopped at the church of San Francisco. It was about the same size as the basilica in Minneapolis. Even though there was mass going, we were just some of many folks milling around the church. Like the basilica there were shrines to various Catholic saints. These were colorful displays that were about 10 foot wide and seven or eight foot tall. Each had a rather graphic depiction of the saint’s life or how he died.

On the floors were grates leading to the catacombs. Many were marked by the good ol’ skull and crossbones.

I think on a normal day one might be able to go down there through another door. I didn’t take many pictures, after all this visit came mid-mass.

Inside San Francisco

Afterwards we visited my father in law’s other bar/restaurant Rincon Cervecero which translated means “corner of beer”.

It was a typical bar/restaurant with a German beer hall theme. You can see in some of the pictures on the website one of the more unusual items on the menu, the barril. It’s a 5 liter mini keg filled with your favorite beer.

The only other time I made it to Lima Center was to take in the buffet at my father in law’s other bar Estadio F.C. or stadium football club. A three floor mecca to all things soccer.

One floor of Estadio football fun

After our little jaunt downtown Saturday night, Vanessa and I made a vow to return during the daylight hours and take better pictures.

You’ll see the results of our future trip when we actually go.

Me and a Rincon regular