Here it is for real this time. All of these photos were taken by the kids of Fairmail. Check ‘em out, help ‘em out.

Yomira





Elmer





Betty





Jorge





MariaFlor





Juan Carlos





Patricia





Juli





For more info on Fairmail go to http://www.fairmail.info/

Check out all of my selections of their photos on my Flickr Page.

This is our last day in Huanchaco…for now. We are moving on and leaving some friends behind. We have spent a lot of time working with the Fairmail kids and developing our future media empire, so we didn’t get out much. However, our tans are darker and we have spent some quality time on the beach, but we haven’t forged any great bonds with other travelers or locals. I think this is a travelers mentality or just how it happens when you jump from town to town. I cherish the friends we have made in Huanchaco, and I hope we’ve made a big enough impact on them to insure that they will remember us when we return. Good by Huanchaco, we had a lot of fun and thank you for everything.

Perfection is what I desire, so when we stumbled across these, I knew I needed nothing more in life. The snow-cup, you might call it, comes with your choice of flavors: Strawberry (fresa), Mango, Tamerind, Guanábana, Mint, Piña, Limón (Lime). Forget about those High Fructose corn syrup mixed with some kind of chemical snow cones of your past, Dante’s has only fresh squeezed freshly pureed freshly sugared tasty goodness.



We met Dante for the first time near the beach when contemplating the ice cream in the ice cream shop across the street. I said, “Jessie, we should stop eating all of this ice cream, it is bad for our health.” So, we called on Dante and a Woman, who seemed to be running the show, to fulfill our needs. Dante did the scoopin’ and She did the pourin’. Jessie remembered seeing their cart being painted and fixed in the street near our appartment, and then so did I. They seemed busy, so I ordered a Fresa solo and Jessie experimented with a Mango and Coconut, telling ourselves that we must return and maybe write about it. Interesting.



Yesterday, I snuck out under the pretext of “Internet cafe/photo upload” and sampled their goods again, Fresa with Coco. And it was good.



Today we stopped by their permanent location across from the city Municipality. Dante was working solo, but there always seems to be a good group of people hanging out whenever we walk by. It quickly became obvious that Dante’s spot was the spot for locals and expats alike to re-fresh in a very fresh-fruit way. He told us his Mother has been doing this same thing for 40 Years. 40 Years, that is a lot to think about for a traveler. Back to the Solo Fresa for me and a Mango Coco for Jessie and just for fun a Limón (Lime) and Coconut for us (me.) They were great. And so is the sugar high.

Today, class, we will be talking about Fairmail, with photos. I decided late last night to switch from a photo essay of the Fairmail kids photos to a photo essay of the fairmail kids. Enjoy.
Roberto.

Elmer with MariaFlor in the background from a Depth of Field lesson.

Juli up close.

The pack decends on Huanchaco.

Class starts and we look at photos that the kids took earlier in the week. This day it was on the beach.

Jessie and Yomira talk about camera stuff.

Camera straps have more than one purpose.

MariaFlor and Yomira after a surprise soaking.

Yomira.

Still on the beach.

MariaFlor explains it to me.

Over looking Huanchaco.

Patricia up close.

Patricia in the not-get-wet stance.

Yomira checking her photos.

Betty and Juli shooting down the beach working on telephoto shots.

Yomira taking photos in the Huanchaco cemetery.

Jessie posing for a wide-angle portrait lesson.

I’d been dying to get on the neon green “Bs. Aires – Arevalo” bus whose sides are airbrushed with six-sided starbursts. The paint job made Buenos Aires, a little coastal community whose name we’d seen on maps and the sides of buses, look exotic and fun. I was intrigued.

We took our usual “Huanchaco” bus to the Ovalo Mansiche, a confusing knot of streets and overpasses. We knew that the Green buses passed through here, but we had no clue as to where, so we stood back and watched traffic for a while.

Trujillo’s bus system is a bit less complex than Lima’s, in that each company takes a single route, and all similarly-styled buses are going to the same place, but it still takes some doing to make sure you’re on the right bus.

After ten minutes of waiting for a Green bus, we gave up and caught a white-and-blue bus labeled Buenos Aires. As usual, we were the only gringos on the bus. The wrangler and driver glanced at each other when they let us off at the end of the line.

Buenos Aires has the feel of something that had been built to be much grander than it had turned out to be. The main road is a wide boulevard with palm trees and flower-bordered sidewalks, and on each blog sits an uninviting cement gazebo ,painted garish blue. The garden areas were well-taken care of, the grass carefully trimmed and shaped around the floral border.

The Malecón Colón (waterfront park) also looks as though it has seen better days. A rusting play area sits hopefully, the wood splintered and weatherworn. It’s hard to tell how old it might have been, since with the weather and the salt winds, things corrode so quickly here. The play area is a collection of forts and ladders and bridges that would never have been allowed to exist in the U.S. It looks hella fun.

There are a few bodyboarders in the waves, and a few just leaving, dripping wet trails behind them. A couple of families have come to picnic on the beach, which is a narrow strip of sand at the base of the 3-meter high sea wall. For about three blocks the walkway is still intact, stretching alongside sculpted garden areas with dry wading pools in front of empty restaurants.

The long malecón looks more defensive than recreational. To our left the sea wall ends and men with jackhammers are breaking up an eroded and collapsed section, whose foundation has been washed out from under it.

The smell of the ocean is strong here, the vegetable matter of the sea churned up by the waves, rotting dead things at the hide tide mark. I sit on the top of a stairway that leads down to the beach while Rob goes down to take photos; here it smells also of urine and abandoned trash. The cement steps are pitted and corroded, and there was once a railing, but the metal posts have been sawn off at the quick to form rusting pits in the cement, filled with sand. The base of the sea wall is piled high with small jagged boulders and pieces of blood-colored brick, discarded plastic bottles. The broken half-moon of a discarded cement culvert juts through the sand by Rob’s feet as he crouches to take a photo of the waves.

After a few moments the Seguridad Ciudadana comes by to warn us that it’s dangerous. The officer is a young man with smooth round features and a friendly face. He tells me that here there are people who would assault and rob us, and that although right now it’s not bad, that drug addicts come out at night. He gestures down the coast. “Over in Huanchaco it’s better. It’s calmer.” I thank him and assure him that we only plan to spend a little bit of time here, just a few more photos. He lets us know that they’ll be making the rounds and will keep an eye out for us. He shakes our hands and gets back in his pickup.

The Seguridad Ciudadana pickups are armored beasts, steel grilles welded over all the windows, even over the windshield (though you can flip it up if you need to drive). They drive a few blocks away, then stop. Rob and I are moving slowly even farther down the coast, taking photos.

Only one restaurant is open, and all the others seem abandoned. They are all the same varying shades of dirty white with colorful trim—green, blue and yellow, all the same cool tone, the same matte lack of luster.

Rob is taking a photo of a rusting swing set when the S.C. pickup’s reverse lights come on. I’m vaguely hopeful that they’ll insist on giving us a ride back into Trujillo, but that’s not the case. Pablo (he introduces himself now) is sitting on the passenger side. “Mira,” he says. “Are you planning to walk farther down, or just about to here?”

At the end of this block the malecón ends in a dirt road strewn with rubble and trash. The sea wall continues as a crumbling barrier. It looks like a war zone.

“Just to here,” I say. “Just a few more photos.”

Pablo nods. “You can tell it’s dangerous there, can’t you?”

I agree. They roll along beside us as we walk back the way we came. Pablo asks how long we’re in Peru. Six weeks in Trujilo volunteering, I say. I tell him that we have an apartment in Huanchaco, and he looks satisfied. “Huanchaco es mas tranquilo,” he says again.

I ask him the history of the area. He tells me that there were once pre-inca temples here, and one of Peru’s oldest churches was built here. “In taxi you can get there in four minutes.” He gives me a look. “Si, en taxi van,” he repeats.

I tell him that we expected this to be a rich part of town, and he looks incredulous. I tell him that in the U.S. if there was beachfront property this close to a city it would be quite expensive.

He shrugs. “There are really great people here, really friendly. But also there are the bad ones who would assault and rob you.” He gestures to Rob’s camera. “You need to be careful with your equipment.” Rob nods, sí, sí, sí. It’s a daily warning for us.

Finally we convince them that we’re about to leave and they make their way down the road, waving goodbye. We continue walking slowly, past the dry dolphin wading pool, past the old man and woman sitting beneath the sea-creature print umbrella selling papas rellenas and empanadas from a rusty orange cart.

We catch my Green “Bs. Aires – Arevalo” bus, and it takes us back to the gringo “Huanchaco” line. We’re back where we belong.

Check out Robert’s Flickr page of our visit to Buenos Aires.

Three months in Peru, already?

For those of you who are new to the blog, who were snoozing, or merely just can’t get enough of what the Kittilson-Kwak team is up to (have you been wondering what KnK Explore meant?), we put together a little retrospective on the month of November.

HUANCHACO



This has been a good month full of catching up and thinking ahead, and saving money. Summer’s been heating up in Huanchaco, and it seems like every day there are more and more tourists in the street—both Peruvian and foreign. On sunny weekends, especially, the beaches fill up—I wrote about the contrast between the weekends and the weekdays, but really at any time you can find people walking the beach.

We’ve been diving into our new home a bit more, visiting the local sights such as the temple of Arco Iris or the Casonas Antiguas of Trujillo, talking with one of Huanchaco’s oldest families, and just sittin’ around the front porch.

FAIRMAIL



Volunteering has been going well. I haven’t written much about it because we’ve still been getting into the groove of things, but the problem with volunteering for such a short amount of time is that once you get in the groove you’ve got to move along.

Fairmail has eight students right now, five girls and three boys. Some are more advanced than others, and it’s been a challenge to find a teaching style that works for such a group. Mostly we’ve just been dealing with each kid individually, downloading their homework photos and discussing them with the kid, then sending them out to take more.

We’re both learning more Spanish by the day—useful phrases like “tiempo de obturadora” (shutter speed).

We’ll be putting together a photo essay from the kids soon so you can see who we’re dealing with here.

Speaking of….

PHOTO ESSAYS



Rob’s been busy at work since we introduced Peru With Three Lenses, our Sunday photo essay feature. In case you missed any, here they are:

• Huanchaco
• Trujillo
• Lima
• Market Time

MIDWEEK SNACK

We also launched the Midweek Snack this month, which has forced us to go out and eat a lot of delicious food for the sake of documentation. We’ve explained how the Peruvian “set menu” works, then how to make cancha. We’ve also paid visits to a couple of our favorite Huanchaco restaurants, including Generous Sandwich and El Anzuel.

THE FUTURE

We’re looking toward the future here, at creating a site aimed toward providing information to travelers of the type that we are—folks getting off the beaten path, looking for information on places that aren’t listed in guidebooks or for whom the information is scarce.

The idea is still fermenting in our heads, but we’ll let you know more when we have a better grasp. But for now look for a new and improved KnK Explore in January. It’ll still have the writing and photos you know and love, but with better organization and more deliberately useful articles and information.

Our plan is to fly home in March in order to make some more money, then return to Peru sometime around November 2010 to continue gathering information about travel, and to see everything we haven’t gotten to yet!

Welcome to the Midweek Snack, a weekly feature in which Jessie and I will explore Peruvian cuisine. Each week this might take the form of a restaurant review, a featured regional dish, an interview with a local chef, or a recipe. From time to time we’ll also write broader pieces, which we’ll call “Peruvian Cuisine 101.”

In today’s episode: El Anzuel and Chicharron de Pescado

I thought I would start this weeks Midweek Snack with a photo…

No that we are all salivating, let us move on.

We have enjoyed this plate at El Anzuel (730 Av. Victor Larco, Huanchaco Peru) a few times now and have lusted for it since the first taste. Other restaurants, almost all, serve this dish, but no one else in Peru can stand up to the Heavenly pillows of deep fried goodness that are produced here in Huanchaco.

I followed this dish from beginning to end in an attempt, as always, to get the secrets about a dish and then make it myself. This dish is relatively simple, but oooooooh so good.

Yucca is a staple in peru and comes as a compliment on many dishes. However it is poisonous unless you boil the stuffing out of it. So if you try this at home, please be thorough.

First, Pour a bunch of oil into a big pan and heat it up and fry the Yucca. While you are doing this you can watch excerpts of X-Files or you can bread the fish. I suggest breading the fish so you can eat it sooner, but that is just my stomach typing. The fish El Anzuel uses are cut in chunks that measure 5×3x3 centimeters.

Once breaded, fry that fish buddy. The cook fried the fish for five to seven minutes until the batter had become Bien Dorado (Well Golden).

I had a hard time keeping control of my urge to dive in to the hot, still sizzling, chunks of delight. Looking through the lens offers a slight detachment that probably saved me from burning my mouth.

Serve over a nice bed of Yucca and some veggies, for color, and very soon your belly will be full and your addiction satisfied, for a minute of two at least. Yum.

The Chicharron de Pescado here at El Anzuel cost S/.18 or about Seven dollars. Dishes ranged from S/.16 to S/.38 with most around twenty soles. Based on this, I would say that it is the quality and quantity of each dish that makes it a bit more pricy, not just the beach front location.

We spoke with the owners mother, Hayde Bracamonte Flores, and she was a very kind and helpful person with the stern look of a hardened book keeper.

After a quick food coma we headed out for a bit of Ice cream to kick off the second half of the day. Cheers!

Robert

Wow! what a great weekend. This Photo essay is a day late because we had to go to Ecuador to renew our tourist visas. The jump off point for that is a town called Tumbes, and the power was out there all day Sunday. So, once we got our stamps we headed directly for a place called Mancora. Mancora is a party town with one great wave and a perfect beach. Also no power hence no post.
P.S. The water is warm here!!! Enjoy this Photo Essay about Huanchaco.
Roberto

The way to travel in Huanchaco

The Menu

Peruvian Legos

Muchik surf school official vehicle

Spices

fans of KnK Explore

Inpenetratable

Little market

Margarita

Surfing+Huanchaco=Hamburgers?

The End

Flickr Slide Show

Flickr Page

Photographs page

We walked into the Muchik Surf School yesterday to ask a few questions about the surfing scene in Huanchaco, and ended up whiling away the afternoon in the company of Margarita and Chicho Huamanchumo.


While we were waiting for Chicho (who along with brother Omar is the main surf instructor), Margarita told us that if we had any questions about Huanchaco she could help us, as she’d been born here.


Huanchaco is a town that is growing at an increasingly breakneck pace, and so to hear that she had been born and raised here piqued my interest. “How long has your family lived here?” I asked.

“Over four thousand years,” Margarita said with pride. “We’ve lived in Chan Chan since the pre-Inca times.” Two and a half hours and 6 pages of scrawled notes later, Rob and I emerged into the sunlight with a much deeper picture of the area’s history from some of its most knowledgeable inhabitants.


We first met Margarita the first day we arrived in Huanchaco, when we stopped by Muchik looking for leads on an apartment. She called Johnny, who eventually took us to the place we’re renting now. We’ve exchanged smiles and waves from then on, but this was the first time we’d really sat down and talked with her.

She’s a friendly woman with a passion for this place and a deep knowledge of the place which she attributes to her grandfather’s stories. The Huamanchumo family is one of two remaining families still living in the Huanchaco area.


Chicho told us this story about their origins:

They say that the god Naylamp was sailing down the coast, from Tumbes to Lima, discovering new places and founding new cities. When he came to the peninsula of Huanchaco they saw that the cove was filled with abundant and delicious fish, types they had never seen before.

Naylamp and his warriors made an offering and called the place “Wuankarute,” which in the Muchik language means “The lagoon of the golden fish.” Naylamp left to continue his quest down the coast, but three warriors stayed to found the village of Huanchaco, and the civilizations of the Moche and Chimu.

The warriors were Guaman-Chumu, Shilmaza, and one more whose line has disappeared. The descendents of Shilmaza live now in Huanchaquito, and those of Guaman-Chumu (which means “the bird that flies,” said Margarita) now run a surf school in Huanchaco, just a few meters off the beach where the warrior originally set foot in his new homeland.

Welcome to the Midweek Snack, a weekly feature in which Jessie and I will explore Peruvian cuisine. Each week this might take the form of a restaurant review, a featured regional dish, an interview with a local chef, or a recipe. From time to time we’ll also write broader pieces, which we’ll call “Peruvian Cuisine 101.”

In today’s episode: “Cancha”

Cancha, pronounced (Cahn-cha) and Canchitas (Cahn-chi-tas) are the tasty Peruvian treats received before lunch and dinner in most Peruvian restaurants, especially in Huanchaco. (P.S. they go great with a frozen [cold] beer).

Warning! Do not make the mistake of calling it Concha or Conchitas for this is a reference to the female anatomy and will no doubt bring you a few laughs and perhaps a slap in the face.

At my first introduction to these nuggets of goodness I would devour them instantly, making Jessie fight for the last few and hide them from my frothing mouth. Then I discovered you can just ask for more. It even happened that at a few restaurants we made a lunch out of Canchitas and a few beers…each. Maybe you’ve had some similar lunches at a Mexican restaurant enjoying Chips, Salsa and few Margeritas? No? I don’t believe you… I digress. Anyway, like most GREAT food I come across, I need to learn how to make it for myself. So, I did.

There seems to be many types of Cancha, but at the local market we found only two: Cancha Serrano, with little bits of red skin still attached, and Maiz Paucho, a harder version which we see at most restaurants. Good luck finding this anywhere else other than Peru, but if you are here, this is how you do it.

First, you must purchase it. You might try stealing it, but the authorities will track you down like Hansel and Gretel, for bits of corn will be streaming from your pockets. Second, you must cook it. Oil, not butter, is the way to go because you need to use high heat. Pour enough oil in a pan (one that has a lid) to cover the amount of Cancha you will be using. Be generous. In the past I have used a small amount of oil like you might use for popcorn, but this technique will burn the Conchitas (although I still ate ‘em). Once the oil is heated to popping temperature (a.k.a. really hot) dump the Cancha in and begin the shaking. Don’t stop shaking until the popping slows, then cut the heat and drain the excess oil. Dry the Canchitas and add a plentiful helping of salt. Mix and serve.

Viola! You now have Canchitas and god willing a full belly in a few minutes time. Don’t forget the beer and someone to help you eat them. If you ruin them, don’t worry, just head down to a pub near the beach, grab a chair and a beer, and enjoy their Canchitas while you watch the waves.

Salud, Roberto

What a change a Cloudy Monday is from Sunny Sunday in Huanchaco.

Sunny Sunday:

Bodies colorful in bathing suits glut the beach and spill into the cold waves with squeals and shrieks. Children in sand-filled underwear build castles at the water’s edge to be lapped by the waves. Young couples lay close together on blankets, half-naked and oblivious of the rest of the world.

Massive tour buses have trucked in people by the hundreds to buy trinkets and splash in the ocean, eat ceviche and lie in the sun. All of Huanchaco is out to watch them, sell to them, wait on them. Taxis prowl the streets, and ice cream vendors are doing rapid business every few feet. Bars and restaurants Rob and I have eaten at alone for weeks now don’t have a single free table.

Impromptu soccer games spring up everywhere along the beach, bare-chested young people diving for the ball in sprays of sand, flinging themselves into the waves to fetch uncontrolled kicks. Keepers make grand saves that bury themselves in the sand.

Cloudy Monday:

Today there are only a few surfers practicing in the shallows, and a pair of elderly European tourists walking on the edge of the waves, hiking shoes in hand. A few little boys with bodyboards play by the pier, oblivious to the cold.

The empty beach is lain with fishing nets as the fishermen check them for holes, gather them carefully into bundles. A man in tattered surf shorts mends his net with a pointed wooden shuttle wrapped with translucent green filament.

Today the fishermen are unmolested by tourist cameras and halting questions in broken Spanish. Yesterday they made their money taking tourists out on their caballitos de totoro, keeping to the shallows but still illiciting screams of delight as the unstable little boats rocked with the waves. Today it’s back to fishing. They’ve lost their glamor.

A lone Lamborgini ice cream vendor sits on the curb, not even bothering to solicit the few people who wander by, and the man selling sticky-sweet neon orange turrones motions at them half-heartedly as we walk past. A few of the feather earring and hemp necklace vendors have come out, but there’s no one here to buy their wares.

Huanchaco is quiet once again.

Sunset at the beach.

Jag har legat på stranden och läst sista halvan av Barack Obamas memoarer Min far hade en dröm. Den läste vi i bokklubben, men jag skummade sista halvan av boken för att hinna färdigt. Jag tänkte att den nog var värd en bättre och mer noggrann läsning, och det var den! I synnerhet den sista tredjedelen, som handlar om Obamas första besök i Afrika tyckte jag mycket om. I bokklubben kom vi överens om att vi gillade första delen om hans barndom bäst, men nu ändrade jag mig och gillade sista delen om Afrika var bäst. I mitten finns en del som handlar om hans liv i Chicago precis efter universitetsexamen, där Obama försöker jobba som organisatör och efter mycket slit gör succé. Det var också läsvärt och visar kanske allra mest på hans stenhårda övertygelse, men det kändes inte lika personligt som första och tredje delen. Det är helt otroligt att denne kloke, begåvade och ödmjuke man är USA:s president! Och tänk att USA har en president som har sovit på en trappa i New York utan knappt en krona på fickan! Det är nästan för bra för att vara sant. Nu blev jag sugen att läsa fortsättningen The Audacity of Hope också.

Stranden i Huanchaco är egentligen inte så himla fin, men den är ok. Det är egentligen mer en fiskarstrand och surfarstrand än en badstrand, men den är bra ändå trots att vågorna är höga och vattnet är iskallt. Jag vet inte hur många grader det är i vattnet, men man kan på sin höjd doppa sig och sedan rusa upp. Sanden är nästan svart och stranden är lång. Igår när jag gick ganska långt längs stranden så stötte jag på en stendöd strandad jättesäl, eller om det var en valross. Stor var den i alla fall. Jag såg inte vad det var förrän jag var nästan ända inpå den, även om jag tyckte att det luktade lite skumt. Jag trodde att det var en klippa i sanden, så jag blev helt förskräckt och vände genast helt om. Det nästan allra bästa med stranden är att man får vara ifred utan att en massa folk kommer fram och ska försöka en pracka på en saker att köpa, för det är man inte bortskämd med. Strandpromenaden är Huanchacos hjärta. Det är där det händer, om det händer. Längs strandpromenaden ligger en mängd restauranger, säkert ett 30-tal. Där finns också glassförsäljare, fruktförsäljare, kakförsäljare och godisförsäljare. På söndagarna lever byn upp och stranden och strandpromenaden fylls med helgfirare från Trujillo och turistbussar. Folk med bil gillar att köra ut på stranden och sitta och picknicka bredvid bilen, vilket jag har lite svårt att förstå.

Huanchaco är en fiskeby, som nu också ser en del turister. Fiskarna kör ut i små vassbåtar som har sett likadana ut i hundratals eller tusentals år. Fast jag såg faktiskt att de hade frigolit under vassen, och det kan de väl inte ha haft för tusentals år sedan? Men det är ändå imponerande att de ror ut i de här små vassbåtarna och fiskar varje morgon. Och fisk finns det sannerligen. När tidvattnet kommer in så kan man med blotta ögat se hur fiskstimmen hoppar i vattnet. Detta innebär såklart att de serverar fantastiska fiskrätter på alla restaurangerna här. Mina favoriter är ceviche (den peruanska nationalrätten – vit fisk som marineras i lime med chili), Arroz de Mariscos (risotto med skaldjur) och Pescado a la Plancha (grillad/stekt fisk rakt upp och ner). I synnerhet Arroz de Mariscos är spännande. Inget snålande med skaldjuren här inte, utan man får en tallrik som svämmar över av mer eller mindre mystiska kryp och krålare från havets botten. Räkor känner jag igen, och bläckfick och musslor, men vad allt det andra är har jag ingen aning om. Det är bara att tugga, njuta och vara glad! En lustig sak är att man alltid i Arroz de Mariscos får typ Findus majs-ärtor-paprika blandning, precis som i risotton i skolmatsalen. Jag har tänkt ta foton på goda maten flera gånger, men sedan när maten står på bordet så har jag varit så hungrig att jag har glömt bort det. Någon som är förvånad? Om man äter en menu vid lunchtid så består den av tre rätter, och kostar mellan 6 och 12 soles (= ca 15-30 SEK). Det peruanska standardpriset är nog egentligen 6 soles. Som hittat, får man säga.

Vassbåtar i Huanchaco

Huanchacos strand

Lunch på stranden i Huanchaco

Skolklass som badar. Dessvärre hade de inte gått i Mulle eller scouterna, för det såg ut som fan när de gick därifrån med flaskor, papper och plast överallt.

Solnedgång Huanchaco

Försäljare på strandpromenaden

Welcome to the Midweek Snack, a weekly feature in which Rob and I will explore Peruvian cuisine. Each week this might take the form of a restaurant review, a featured regional dish, an interview with a local chef, or a recipe. From time to time we’ll also write broader pieces, which we’ll call “Peruvian Cuisine 101.”

In today’s episode: The Man Behind “Generous Sandwich”

Rob and I went out restaurant hunting our first night in Huanchaco–we had a few favorite places from our earlier visit, but we wanted to try something new. We saw light flooding into the street from open doors and hovered, attracted like moths. There was something about the large cartooney hamburger that was friendly and inviting.

We went in.

Generous Sandwich is a beacon of light in the darkness

Generous Sandwich. It’s a cozy place, one that we’ve come to frequent in part because of the delicious hamburgers and in part for the company of Luis Felipe Uceda Montero, the 27-year-old surfer and restaurant-owner who has sated our hunger oh so many nights.

Peruvian hamburgers are different from those we’re used to in the US. Sure, they come with beef and cheese and lettuce and tomatoes and buns (although like most things Peruvian, the buns are sweet).

Luis Felipe poses with Rob's queso doble burger

Hamburgers: Terms you need to know

• Simple: beef, lettuce, tomato
• Royal: + a fried egg
• A Lo Pobre: + a fried egg, ham, and sweet plaintains
• Italiana: + chorizo, italian sauce and oregano
• Peruana: + cheese, egg, and sliced hot dogs
• Queso Doble: beef, cheese, beef, cheese, lettuce, tomato

I’m a big fan of the Hamburguesa a lo Pobre, though the plantains always try to mush out of the bun. Rob always goes for the Queso Doble, and when prodded, Luis Felipe admitted that the Hamburguesa Italiana is his favorite.

Luis Felipe’s burgers are notable for two things:

• First: the buns aren’t sweet. Rather, they’re plain and hardy, the better to hold all the goods in the burger.
• Second: the sauces.

Ketchup and Mustard? Pshaw. Luis Felipe provides his customers with a whole slew of things to spread on their buns, including my personal favorite, chimichurri (garlic, parsley, S&P, olive oil). He also makes a chimichurri with pineapple, which I haven’t been brave enough to try yet.

Delicious homemade chimichurri

Luis Felipe opened the Generous Sandwich two years ago, when he got tired of his job managing a restaurant in Trujillo. When I asked him what he liked most about owning his own place, he grinned. “No bosses.” He looked around his restaurant and shrugged. “It’s like my home, my family’s close by, and my friends can come by. I can turn the television on whatever channel I want.”

It is like home: the walls plastered with surfing posters, “Friends” playing on the TV, Luis Felipe cooking up burgers while his patrons sit and chat.

Generous Sandwich is only open after six o’clock, because like most of Huanchaco’s young men, Luis Felipe is a surfer, and has been since he was a kid. He’s being kept out of the water for a few months due to an illness, but once he’s back on his board Rob will surely regale you all with a photo essay.

And even if you don’t make it to Huanchaco, put a plantain and a fried egg on your next burger. I promise you won’t regret it.

Jag försökte utröna vilken sorts sköldpaddor som bor här på Hostal Naylamp i Huanchaco. Det finns två stycken, en stor som heter Cassiopeia som är riktigt framfusig och en lite mindre som jag inte vet vad den heter som är väldigt blyg. Det enda jag kom fram till var att det är någon slags landsköldpaddor, och det var kanske inget jag behövde slå upp för att förstå. Men jag lärde mig att sköldpaddors organ inte åldras nämnvärt: det är omöjligt för forskare att se skillnad på en femårig sköldpaddas hjärta och en hundraårig sköldpaddas hjärta! Cassiopeia är i alla fall väldigt nyfiken på mitt rum. Det måste vara något som hon tycker luktar gott här inne. Jag brukar ha dörren öppen när jag sitter ute på min lilla patio, och så fort hon ser det sätter hon fart på sina små sköldpaddeben och tar sikte på mitt rum. Sköldpaddor är inte så långsamma som ryktet säger! De är i och för sig inte snabba heller, så även i sin allra snabbaste sköldpaddeilfart så har jag inga problem att hinna först och stänga dörren. Än så länge, det är bara en tidsfråga innan Cassiopeia överlistar mig.

Huanchaco är en mycket lugn by. Efter klockan åtta på kvällen är det tyst och mörkt, förutom kanske två eller tre restauranger vid strandpromenaden som har öppet. Det är nog livligare i högsäsongen när det är varmare och fler turister. Även på dagen är det otroligt lugnt och fridfullt på gator och torg, det är bara vid strandpromenaden som det är något som skulle kunna kallas vimmel. Byn är inte vacker, men trivsam på sitt sätt. Alla är trevliga och hälsar Buenos Dias/Buenas Tardes/Buenas Noches, men annars får man strosa ifred. Överhuvudtaget är peruanerna väldigt trevliga och hjälpsamma. Strosandet blir dock begränsat eftersom man kan gå från den ena änden av byn till den andra på tjugo minuter. Husen påminner om husen i Mexico, fyrkantiga och tillbommade, men de gömmer kanske oanade oaser i sitt inre. Det finns ingen rikig affär à la supermarket i Huanchaco, men väldigt många små bodegas (kvartersbutiker). På det hela taget är detta en exemplarisk plats att bara ta det lugnt och ha det skönt (och göra utflykter, om det blir för tråkigt). Vädret är precis så som jag gillar det: cirka 25 grader och ganska soligt på dagarna, men svalare på nätterna så att man får sätta på sig sin fleecetröja och mysa till det.

Apropå djur så träffade jag en grekisk tjej som varit ute och rest i ett år. För tre månader sedan kände hon sig lite ensam och skaffade sig därför en liten vit råtta som reskamrat. Denna råtta bär hon med sig överallt i en skokartong. Förutom när hon glömmer skokartongen på lite olika ställen, som i hotellreceptionen och på restaurangstolar. Som tur är så hade ingen hittills slängt kartongen innan hon kommit ihåg den och gått tillbaka för att hämat den. När jag frågade vad hon skulle göra med sin råtta när hon ska hem till Grekland så svarade hon att nog skulle försöka smuggla hem den i behån. Hm… Jag sade att jag tyckte att det lät som en dum idé, men jag tror att hon bara tyckte att jag var en tråkig, negativ, oflexibel och allmänt idédödande människa.

Annars har jag inte sett några speciellt spännande djur. Här finns inga mygg, och det är underbart! Min solbrändhet har börjat ge med sig och jag har börjat med akut fjällning istället. Jag ska vara så otroligt försiktig utomhus hädanefter!

Cassiopeia målmedvetet sprintande mot min dörr. Ser ni hur huvudet är på skaft? Detta är en sköldpadda som vet vad hon vill.

Huanchaco

Kyrka i Huanchaco.

Bodega i Huanchaco

Bodega i Huanchaco.

Huanchaco

Huanchaco

Along the coastal deserts of Peru and, strangely enough, within the crater lakes of Easter Island, grows a unique reed that has contributed enormously to the development of civilizations in those places.  The South Americans and Polynesians have long cultivated the totoro plant in ocean-side pits, where it thrives near salt water but does not do well in moister climates away from the sea.

The reed is one of those families of plants that have enabled human societies to grow and prosper.  One can eat the hearts of its tender shoots, weave baskets and floor mats from its stalks, and even build primitive houses with its mature foliage.  More importantly, totoro has been used for eons to build small craft, together with larger sea-going vessels, to aid in both the fishing industry and oceanic navigation.

Totoro is currently found along the coast of Peru – and even as far south as northern Chile and on the shores of Lake Titicaca.

The reed is fashioned into the famous caballitos de totoro, small boats that look like a cross between a kayak and a surfboard.  Local fishermen brave the icy waters of the Humboldt Current to venture into the open Pacific to fish from these flimsy boats, yet the crafts exhibit the seaworthy qualities of vessels far superior in “technological” development.  Representations of caballitos have been found on ceramics dating back thousands of years, which goes to show “There is nothing new under the sun,” to borrow an old but wise cliché.

The boats are paddled with a single double-bladed board, usually fashioned from palm wood or other materials close at hand.  The paddles are not works of art but of functionality.

1) A group of caballitos drying in the sun near Chiclayo.  The boats do not last more than a few months after becoming waterlogged, but they are easy to construct by lashing  two bundles of reeds together, and then by cutting away a small space toward the stern for the pilot to sit and steer while he engages in fishing and surf-dodging.

I have personally seen, in Huanchaco, fishermen pull away from shore through six to eight foot surf in these craft.  Their high bows easily ride over the waves.  On their return to the beach, the fishermen slide to shore through the surf, catching waves with the expertise of the best Hawaiians. Men often used to invite me to try out the caballitos for sport, and I suspect, to have a good laugh at the expense of a gringo.  Personally I have an aversion to cold water and I always declined the offers.

In other situations I have seen the Huanchaco fishermen run their forty-foot wooden fishing boats straight out to sea through the whitewater from twenty-foot breaking waves.  These men are a breed apart, and their piloting skills would make the hearts of most American or European yachtsmen palpitate with fear.

2) Catch of the day near Chiclayo

The great beauty of these boats lies in the simplicity of their design, the low cost of their construction and their great sea-handling qualities.

4) After the workday has finished; the boats are pulled to the beach to dry.

The only question we cannot answer is this: how did the reed makes its way from Peru to Easter Island?  Individual specimens could not have floated over the huge reaches of the Pacific Ocean.  Traditions and artwork on the Moai of Rapa Nui depict great ocean-going sailing ships made from reeds.  Perhaps these clues provide the answer.

It’s a pity that totoro reed boats don’t ply the waters of Seattle and Puget Sound. An enterprising businessperson could make a thriving trade by renting or selling them to the eco-conscious kayakers of the Pacific Northwest.

Welcome to the Midweek Snack, a weekly feature where Rob and I will explore Peruvian cuisine. Each week this might take the form of a restaurant review, a featured regional dish, an interview with a local chef, or a recipe. From time to time we’ll also write broader pieces, which we’ll call “Peruvian Cuisine 101.”

In today’s episode: Peruvian Cuisine 101: How to Order the Set Menu

The set menu is everywhere in Peru, and it’s the best-value option when eating out. Most little hole-in-the-wall joints will only serve a set menu, and will run S/.4-6 (US $1.40-2.00) for your meal, but even some nicer restaurants with a full a la carte list will often have a set menu for S/.8-12 (US $2.80-4.00).

So what does “set menu” mean? It’s an all-inclusive meal with an appetizer, main course, and beverage. It took us a few tries to get the hang of set menu places, so we put together this little tutorial to help other travelers out.

Set Menu: Terms you need to know

• entrada – appetizer
• segunda – main course
• postre – dessert
• refresco – a beverage of whatever type they feel like giving you
• sopa de la casa – soup of the house
• platas a la carta – dishes that aren’t included in the set menu

Could life be better? Stuffed avocado appetizer at a restaurant in Lima.

Step 1. Look at the menu board outside the door and choose your meal. Most tiny places won’t have a printed menu, so decide what you want before sitting down. There may be two categories on the sign—entrada and segunda—so choose one of each. If there’s only one one list you can pretty safely assume that the entrada will be soup of some sort.

When the waiter comes, act fast. They’re accustomed to customers who already know what they want, and so service can seem a bit abrupt. Say that you’d like the menu, and tell them your choice from the sign outside. Sit back and relax.

The menu at Restaurante El Pacifico in Huanchaco

If there is no posted menu, the waiter may rattle off a short list of choices. After two months here , I still don’t recognize the dishes they’re offering me most of the time. Sometimes I ask, but mostly just pick whatever sounds most interesting. It’s all been pretty good so far.

To demonstrate this technique, Rob and I went out to lunch at a delicious little S/.4 menu place in Huanchaco, Restaurante El Pacífico. We really sacrifice for you folks.

We both ordered the pollo escabecho and a jar of limeade to share. Delicious.

Pollo Escharchado and limeade for lunch. Yum!

Bussbolagets informationsbroschyr Magazine Cruz del Sur var ganska ointressant. Det intressantaste som stod var att man bara får kissa på toaletterna. Om man måste göra något annat så ska man säga till chauffören så att han kan stanna någonstans där man kan utföra sitt behov. Nattbussen från Lima till Trujillo tog nio timmar, och det var mycket nio bekväma timmar. Jag reste med Cruz del Sur som ska var det bästa och säkraste (och dyraste) bussbolaget i Peru. Biljetten kostade 90 soles (= ca 225 SEK), vilket inte direkt kändes som ett överpris för en niotimmarsresa med ett sådant lyxåk. Fast man kan såklart betala mindre än hälften och åka med en vanlig skruttig Swebus-buss, men vem vill göra det när man kan åka med en Cruzero Suite? Bara namnet får en ju att tänka på ett kryssningsfartyg i Karibien, matroser i vita kostymer, paraplydrinkar och kanske lite bingo eller annan lättsam aktivitet. Cruzero Suite hade i och för sig ingenting av detta, men Cruzero Suite hade megasköna lyxfåtöljer (tänk E-Cliner 2000 som Rachel köper i ett avsnitt av Vänner) som kunde fällas bak och ut och förvandlas till en slags väldigt skön fåtöljsäng. Och så fanns det en käck värdinna på varje bussvåning som kom med te och snacks. Och det bästa av allt: alla fick individuella hörlurar till tv- och musiksystemet! Annars hade jag helt säkert tvingats lyssna till en Pan Classics from the 80’s hela natten. Jag är redan trött på panflöjter, trots att jag inte ens har varit här en vecka. Panflöjtspop spelas överallt i affärer och på restauranger, det går inte att undkomma! Jag tror att det finns ett hemligt budskap bakom panflöjterna, det flöjtas in i hjärnan utan att man märker något, sakta bryts man ned, och snart är man slav under panflöjten! Då finns det bara en sak att göra: att ikläda sig en poncho och ställa sig på Gustav Adolfs Torg och flöjta fram Chiquitita. Det är bara en tidsfråga, tro mig. Hur som helst, att checka in på Cruzero Suite var som att checka in på ett flyg. Först så checkades bagaget in på ett ställe, sedan kontrollerades pass och biljett på ett ställe, sedan kontrollerades handbagaget av en säkerhetsvakt med metalldetektor och sist kontrollerades jag själv också med metalldetektor. Och inte nog med det: innan bussen körde så filmades alla passagerarna med videokamera! Det har skett en del busskapningar i Peru, så bussbolagen har skärpt sin säkerhet. Men min Cruzero Suite gled så fint genom natten och anlände tryggt till Trujillo (utan bajsstopp, vad jag märkte). Eftersom det var mörkt ute så såg jag inte så mycket (jag sov ju så gott i min Cruzero Suite-fåtölj!), men när vi körde ut från Lima märktes vilken stor stad det är. Där satt jag i min Cruzero Suite och tittade ut på folk som letade i sopor och bor i plåtskjul. Världen är alltför orättvis. Och sedan var det mest öken öken öken, riktig stenöken. Från Trujillo tog jag taxi till Huanchaco, ett fiskeläge någon mil utanför Trujillo, och här är jag nu.

Jag hade förresten ett mycket intressant samtal med taxichauffören som körde mig till bussen i Lima. När jag sade att jag var från Sverige så började han genast prata om Volvo. Han var mycket förtjust i Volvo, det fanns faktiskt ingen ände på hans lovord. Han sade att Volvo är det enda som fungerar att köra med i Anderna och därför kör alla Volvo där. Han försäkrade mig att Volvo är extremt populärt i Peru. Eftersom jag ännu inte har sett en enda Volvo så gjorde detta mig en aning fundersam. Jag berättade i alla fall att Volvo förmodligen snart blir kinesiskt, och detta gjorde honom mycket ledsen. Det var de sämsta nyheterna han hade hört på mycket länge (malas malas noticias, muttrade han flera gånger). Hur ska det nu gå för Volvo – kineserna kan ju ingenting om teknik! Jag försökte trösta honom med att säga att utan kineserna kanske Volvo överhuvudtaget inte kan finnas kvar, man kan faktiskt säga att kineserna räddar Volvo! Men nej, detta gick han inte alls med på! Alla i Peru kör Volvo, så Volvo måste gå mycket bra! Jag försökte fråga lite försynt om han kunde peka ut en Volvo för mig under vägen, eftersom jag inte hade sett någon Volvo hittills i Peru. Och det dröjde inte mer än fem minuter förrän han på motorvägen pekade ut en jättelik lastbil! Aha, ett ljus gick upp för mig! Jaså, menar du Volvos lastbilar! Ja givetvis, svarade han. Då kunde jag lugna honom med att säga att jag inte trodde att lastbilarna kommer att köpas av kineserna, utan personvagnarna. Han andades ut och sade självsäkert att Volvos personbilar inte är något att ha – det ska vara Mercedes eller BMW. Man får säga att han hade väldigt starka åsikter för en man som själv kör runt i en mycket risig Honda. Sedan snackade vi lite om Sveriges lag i fotbolls-VM 1994 (enligt honom var Ravelli loco och Ingesson fuerte), och sedan var vi framme.