30th May 2017

Our journey to Terminal 2 at Heathrow went without a hitch. The M1 and M25 were fairly quiet, probably due to it being a Bank Holiday Sunday and the fact that we left Harborough at 1 pm. Remarkably, we only saw two caravans and hardly any lorries all the way to London.

We parked the car in a new venue for us, the Easy Hotel, a franchise of EasyJet. The hotel itself looked fairly basic, but the car park was solid tarmac and appeared sturdy enough to support the Fiesta for the duration. We had to wait around half an hour for our bus pick-up, but a driver on a drop-off run took us to the airport, as it was the end of his shift. Such kindness.

Our flight with Avianca only supported self-check-in. I agree that the process can be pretty straightforward, as long as you’re willing to give it your full concentration, are under the age of 30, and enjoy sticking very sticky paper to suitcases. Annoyingly, the check-in machines allocate seating, which is why Sue and I ended up sitting behind each other in the middle aisle of the plane, very annoying. We were later irritated when the same process using a machine was imposed on us when we bought a meal deal at WH Smiths in departures. Thankfully, we were freshly practised, and this time we managed to purchase the correct items (after some confusion, soul-searching, and questioning whether we had the will to live in this ‘do it yourself’ techno world). We ate our food sitting next to each other, in seats of our choosing.

Our flight wasn’t until 10.40 pm, so it was a long wait. It’s amazing how long you can sit sipping a single pint of beer. The Avianca flight to Bogotá thankfully left on time.

The 10.5-hour flight was not a pleasant one. Both of us were cramped between two other passengers on either side, with hardly any legroom. Thankfully, the food was great, and we did manage to get some very restless sleep. We landed slightly ahead of schedule and found our transit gate without much trouble. Once again, the flight left on time, but this time we had legroom and were seated next to each other. Oh, joy. They fed us a passable breakfast on the 2.5-hour flight into Lima.

Immigration, security, and baggage claim went like a dream, as did meeting our transfer, where we encountered quite a few ‘soon-to-be’ new friends. Then it went a bit sour. We were forced to wait a long time on the transfer bus while four of our group were searched for. It eventually transpired that they had missed the connection in Bogotá. We finally left for the Jose Antonio Lima hotel situated in Miraflores, a lovely, well-located 4-star establishment just a few blocks from the sea.

Frustratingly, the rooms weren’t ready, so as a group, we went for a wander. First to the beach, then afterwards, Sue and I went off to explore the town itself before returning to the hotel and checking into our room on the fourth floor.

After showering and changing, we set off again to explore. First, we exchanged some money and then headed back to the beach. We spent the afternoon wandering and discovering new sights: Pooh Bear, some paragliders taking off from the top of very high cliffs, and a lighthouse. We paused for a while to enjoy some very flavoursome hot chocolate, taking in the hazy views. The little islands we had glimpsed offshore earlier in the day had now disappeared into the mist, and the humid heat of the morning had given way to a much cooler breeze. As the sky began to darken, we made our way back to the hotel for a much-needed cool-down and rest before venturing out for our first authentic Peruvian meal.

Earlier, we had discovered a little plaza next to a large municipal building, conveniently located beside a picturesque park, on our foray into the city. There were a few traditional Peruvian restaurants there, and we made a mental note to return and sample their offerings. This we did. Sue opted for a chicken Peruvian dish, and I had a grilled Peruvian fish dish. Both were tasty, satisfying, and authentic. We enjoyed our meal while watching the locals promenade, and in the park, a magical little market had sprung up, attracting all sorts of characters.

Our tour organiser had recommended a drink called a Pisco Sour, so it had to be sampled. Now, I’m a beer person. I don’t like spirits or cocktails; they’re a complete waste of time, as they are: 1. Too small, and 2. Too quick to drink. The Pisco Sour, however, is cocktail-sized but has the mentality of a pint of beer. You don’t drink it quickly. The sharpness hits the palate first, causing the lips to recoil in horror, followed by a warm, smooth, mouthy, reassuring glow of ‘all is well,’ until the heat and the searing alcohol make their presence known, contorting the face into a comical smirk that brings a little titter of pleasure. WOW. I like this drink, and no, I do not want to know what goes into it (that would be far too dangerous), but I’ll gladly repeat this Peruvian zip-wire of a drink! Sue, however, didn’t like it.

Afterwards, we strolled around the park market before returning to the hotel and heading to bed.

Like most cities (except those in Canada and New Zealand), Lima truly comes alive when the sun goes down, and this is no exception. What a vibrant and exciting experience it is to walk its streets as the population emerges to eat and play. I liken it to Kuala Lumpur, and that’s high praise indeed.