The beach house

Tere has a beach house about an hour south of Lima where she and her family spend the weekends. This weekend, her niece Micha, Micha’s husband Eduardo, their 3-year-old daughter Amira, Tere’s brother Herman, his wife Angie, their younger daughter Viviana and her boyfriend Mario joined Tere and me. It struck me at some point in the evening that we were all going to have to find a place to sleep in the cozy 2-bedroom bungalow.

We enjoyed most of the afternoon and early evening on the beach. As is most of Peruvian society, the beach reflected the striking contrast between the lifestyles of the wealthy and the poor. When Tere purchased the beach house, she hadn’t taken into account that it was located just barely in front of the side of the beach where the poor Peruvians set up their umbrellas. Thus, we had to walk through this part to make it to the wealthy section of the beach, in front of a racquet and swimming club. Slightly on edge since I had been warned to beware of run-by theft, I noticed as we transitioned to the wealthy side the difference in swimwear. The poor generally swam in actual clothing, though not to the extent that I noticed in Indonesia where woman swam fully-clothed due to Islamic restrictions, while the wealthy sported the trendiest Quicksilver and Billabong designer swimwear and Arnette sunglasses.

The ocean water had something of a cleansing effect on my sinuses, which had been suffering horribly from Lima’s smog. Amira, who I connected with very well, was kind enough to spread sunblock on my back. I also noticed that many on the wealthier side looked as if they could be European in their skin tone and facial structure. I was surprised when all of them answered “Lima” when I asked where they were from.

That night, we barbecued several different meats for dinner and I won a game of Gin Rummy to 500 points. Tere had told me that there would be a party at the club and we could hear the latin rhythms in the distance. After most of the family had gone to sleep for the night, I walked over to the club with Mario and Viviana to see if it was worth checking out. It was around midnight and the couple, clearly in love with each other and in no need of the distractions of a loud party, decided to pass. I decided that I would go on my own.

In the open air of the beach where we had sunbathed earlier in the day, there were about 300 people, most of whom sat at tables surrounding the giant dance floor. A band played various cumbia, salsa and merengue tunes, some of which I recognized. Many of the young people I had spotted on the beach were gathered in the back by the bar and I began to try to infiltrate them. Some of the girls were dressed up in flowery costumes to compete to be “queen” of the party. There were about 50 young people and I felt like I was at a fraternity party. It seemed they were a very tight group, since apparently they had grown up their whole lives coming to this beach and spending time together every summer. Several were very kind to me and others uninterested. I wondered how the poorer folks on the other side of the beach were celebrating the weekend.

Taking Tere’s advice that it would be safer, I decided to stay out until sunrise. It turned out to be a good plan, since I got back just as Herman was waking up and I was able to rotate into his bed.

The next day’s lunch was possibly the best meal I had had in months. Angie’s rice with cilantro, the special aji sauce with the baby potatoes, the fresh linguado fish with a squeeze of lime, pork ribs that had been roasting on the barbeque all night, fresh chicha morada juice, all were absolutely delicious. It occurred to me why Tere’s father was still living an exciting life at the age of 94 and why many in the US lived stressful lives and died early. Time spent with family on a regular basis, an emphasis on fresh, natural foods, and a lifestyle that appreciated nature and the need for rest and relaxation. This was the life, I thought as I laid back in the hammock.