Leaving the Andes

A bit sad to be leaving the Andes for good today. For the past five months, we've been more or less in them or right alongside.

 This morning we left San Pedro de Atacama for our first two hour flight to Santiago; now in the airport awaiting our connection to Buenos Aires. I'm excited - I've always wanted to go to BA. And I'm looking forward to moderate weather and a bit of humidity. But I'm going to miss the mountains.

Here are some of the last views from the plane, as we crossed the Andes from Santiago to BA:

Traveling day

Very sadly, we're leaving the Andes and heading to Buenos Aires tonight.  Flying from Calama in Chile's Norte Grande, we passed through Santiago one last time.

The giant lollipops in Duty Free are still there.  

And Neil got his Starbucks fix.

Happily, I got to flush toilet paper at the airport...who knows what Argentina has in store for us on the flushing front?

It's sunny out!

Ive seen a few of these solar powered uv monitors in Peru and Chile. Never seen one in the US though. 

Back in Chile

“Aquí termina la aventura,” said the driver who met us at the Bolivia-Chile border. The adventure ends here.

Me, somewhere between Bolivia and Chile

He wasn’t kidding.  After a week in Bolivia, the last few days spent bouncing around the Altiplano on barely visible jeep tracks, we were on a well-paved desert road, with signage and guard rails that wouldn’t be out of place in Arizona.  From the border crossing, the road descended an amazing 2000m over about 40km (so essentially, straight down) to the desert town of San Pedro de Atacama.  The very first people we met spoke curtly and in slurred, almost unintelligible (to us) Spanish.  We were back in Chile, the land of potable water and fast wifi.

Bolivia

Oh Bolivia, we barely got to know you.  I wish we could have stayed longer.  Journeying through Bolivia in just under a week was both fascinating and highly disorienting.  Just our eating alone was all over the place.  We went to the mall and ate at Subway.  We had salteñas (like empanadas) and the most delicious limonada con leche at a neighborhood joint.  We ate salt-marianated chicken that had cooked for 8 hours in an oven.  We had room service at the Ritz.  One night, we had delectable swiss fondue and spaetzle. 

Ruby is ready for the desert

Our accommodations ranged from a friendly and basic hostal in Copacabana to the Ritz Apart Hotel in La Paz (home of the best shower in South America).  One night, we slept in a hotel made out of salt.  We also slept at the most basic of hostals in the southern Bolivian desert at 14,500’ of elevation.

Our room at the Palacio del Sal in Colchani, Bolivia

Salt block ceiling

Our activities?  We mixed with Good Friday pilgrims in Copacabana and got blessed with holy water at the conclusion of Easter Mass at La Paz’s San Francisco Cathedral.  We humiliated ourselves at a carnival game that required us to kick a soccer ball and knock down stacked cups a mere two feet away.  We wandered the witch’s market in El Alto and sampled cherimoya (my new favorite fruit). 

We attended the Sunday afternoon ritual of cholita wrestling.  Lest you feminists get bent out of shape, the cholitas (indigenous women in traditional garb) totally rock.  They hoist their opponents over their shoulders and throw them down.  They also sit on their faces and light their pants on fire. 

Aerobie Pro!

We played Frisbee on the world’s largest and highest salt flat (12,000 square kilometres).  Ruby and I played violin (Bach) on said salt flat.  

Bach on the Salar de Uyuni

Resting on Isla Incahuasi, a coral island in the middle of the salt flat

We also met an odd mix of people.  There was the Swiss waiter in La Paz who is married to a Bolivian, telling us how Bolivia is so much more entrepreneurial than Europe (not hard to believe). But, in Bolivia, it’s better to have just enough money for your business rather than too much.  (How much is too much?)  There was Hilario, the lovely but most introverted and low-talking tour guide in the world.  And how could we forget the young British couple we met cycling in the desert?  They’re on 3-year bicycle trip that has already taken them through Europe and Africa.  Right now, they’re en route to Alaska from Ushuaia.  They’re blogging,

There was also the large tour group from Hong Kong who we met in the middle of the salt flat and two lovely German/Chinese couples at the salt hotel.  It was the perfect opportunity for the kids to practice their key phrases in German and Chinese:  “Gibts du mir die butter, bitte,” (please pass the butter) and “Ching ni zhuao wo di be” (please scratch my back).  

At the end of this crazy week, what will I remember most vividly about Bolivia?  The altiplano. 

Long before I came to Bolivia, I had developed a fascination with the altiplano.  One of the highest plateaus in the world, the altiplano is a lonely place that is good for growing potatoes and herding alpacas and llamas, and not much else.   La Paz, a city of almost 2 million, rests on the altiplano.  We traveled across it by bus from Copacabana to La Paz.  The only signs of human habitation for hours after we left Lake Titicaca behind were small settlements of adobe and red brick houses, mostly unfinished, and animal pens with adobe fencing.   Groups of people harvested potatoes and washed clothes in the rivers.  Every once in awhile a soccer field would appear.  A wall of huge snow-covered mountains loomed in the distance.  The altiplano is an incredibly harsh environment that makes you feel tiny.  I’m simply in awe of the people who eke out an existence on the Bolivian altiplano.  

During our Salar de Uyuni tour, we experienced the altiplano on steroids.  In the high Bolivian desert near the Chilean border, all signs of human habitation disappear.  It’s just mountains, volcanoes, a few hardy grasses, rocks and dirt.  Our last day in Bolivia, we drove for 8 hours in that harsh, lunar landscape.  The altitude ranged between 12,000’ and 15,000’.  Spending the night at 14,500’ was quite an experience (little sleep, much gasping for air).  Our car came with a satellite phone and oxygen, but fortunately we needed neither.  

We saw a surprising number of vicuña grazing in the dirt, a handful of ñandu (ostrich-like birds), and one fox.  Every once in awhile we’d come across a lake, which would be filled with flamingos, ducks, and other water birds.  

Flamingos like the sulphuric waters in the desert

The lagunas seem otherworldly too, as they are colored with minerals such as borax (white), sulphur (yellow), and copper (green).  At 15,000’, we walked among geysers and boiling mud pots.  It was scary to hear the loud hiss of steam all around, and to feel the vibration of all that pressure underfoot. 

Boiling mud 

Ruby and Neil enjoying the thermal waters

During an entire day of travel in this super extreme altiplano, we crossed paths with just a few vehicles.  No airplanes passed overhead.  It seemed like the quietest, most remote place on earth.   I don’t know if I’ll ever be back, but I’ll definitely never forget the altiplano.

Machu Picchu Backwards and Forwards

Guest blogger Alicia Villarosa

I met up with the Platt Wu’s in Cusco and spent 3 days exploring the city and eating delicious food including unbelievable ceviche. On Palm Sunday we set out on our own pilgrimage via mini van to Ollantaytambo where we caught an afternoon train to Aguas Calientes, the point of departure for the train to Macchu Picchu.  I was sooooo excited to see one of the new Seven Wonders of the World. 

Despite it’s touristy proximity to the famous ruins, AC is a pleasant, scenic, kinda hippyish town. After grabbing a bite we called it a night to rest up for our early morning 3 1/2 hour hike up and down the mountain. But in the middle of the night I was woken by torrential rain. Gatos y perros it poured all night! The next morning I rolled outta bed, disappointed, thinking the hike was off and we’d be stuck watching spanish language TV in our hostel. Wrong! Yo, Neil, Ruby and Oscar were eating breakfast dressed in rain gear and ready to go so blathered some random gung ho phrase, grabbed something waterproof and followed them to the train. 

Luckily Pacha Mama was benevolent and by the time we started our ascent the sky was clearing and only a light mist remained.  Full disclosure I AM NOT A HIKER and it was challenging clambering up rain slicked the rocks and up the side of the mountain but the flora along the way were spectacular.  

Colorful orchids lined the path and we were surrounded by lush tropical vegetation.  And the beauty on the way up made of for the lack of view at the top because at the summit we were enveloped in fog, visibility zero!  It was strange and cool.  

After a few Proof of Life shots its was time to descend. This was very bad news for my very bad knees, so I decided to go backwards. I tucked my dignity in my fanny pack, turned around and ass first and hands down, I backed, walked and crawled my way down.  Oddly this put me at eye level of people going up and I’d call out a cheery greeting.  Several (older) people nodded in understanding and said in numerous languages “ knee problems right?” Some else called me spider-woman.  Back on level ground and face forward I swear I saw other people copying my technique.  Perhaps I’ve started a trend which I will patent and with my new business partner Oscar.  We’re planning a line of accessories starting with gloves. Ouch!

La Paz

In my mind, Bolivia is about as far into South America as you can get.  It's landlocked, isolated and poor, with an extreme landscape of forbidding mountains, enormous deserts, the freezing Altiplano, and a big chunk of the Amazon rainforest.  Well over 60% of the population is indigenous, many of whom continue to wear traditioal clothes everyday.

La Paz, the capital, is a striking place, if not an altogether pleasant one.  The location is stunning - it started out along a riverbank at the bottom of a valley surrounded by high steep walls.  Over time, the city expanded up and over the cliff walls and kept going.  Unlike a lot of cities, in La Paz, the wealthiest parts are the lowest ones - presumably due to the significant difference in climate, with some 2000' variation from the bottom to the top.  The poorer areas are near the top or over the tops of the hills.  We've had the opportunity to go up and down several times, and the views over the city are amazing, particularly when it is clear enough to see the snow capped peaks just beyond the city.

Even the wealthier, lower parts of the city, including where we are staying, have a sort of worn-out 1970's feel to them.  Stunning location aside, it would be hard to call La Paz a beautiful city - many buildings are run down or half-finished, there's a lot of garbage and very little green space.  And there's not all that much to do here, so we're keeping it pretty short, using it as a rest stop on our way to the Salar de Uyuni, the salt flats in southern Bolivia.  We've decided to give the typical hostels a rest, and are staying in nicer digs than usual here, a 2 bedroom hotel suite, which is a nice change.

Today, we went on a very good walking tour that covered most of what I wanted to see in four hours - the small colonial center, the San Pedro prison where foreigners used to come and go on tours, some lasting days (interesting to me because I've just finished Marching Powder, a prison memoir by an English drug smuggler who spent five years there in the 90s), and the markets of El Alto, the city beyond the top of the cliffs.  The section of the market where you can buy all sorts of materials for witchcraft and offerings was particularly interesting - llama and donkey fetuses, strange potions, blocks of sugar shaped like money, and the like.  Of all the city tours we've taken in South America - Santiago, Valparaiso, Lima - this was my favorite.  

Here's a shot of Oscar feeding the pigeons near the Presidential Palace.  If you have food, they will come up and stand all over you.

But the real highlight of our visit was last night, when we went to El Alto to see the "Cholitas Luchadoras" or Cholita wrestling.  From the start, this sounded odd.  Cholitas, indigenous women in traditional big skirts, braids and bowler hats, matching off against each other in a WWF style wrestling competition.  Well...that's exactly what it was.  Good guys (technicas), bad guys (rudas), sneaky biased referees, badly coreographed fights that often spilled into the audience.  The first fight we saw ended when the technica set the rudo's pants on fire and he ran through the audience to put them out.  Crazy.  Apparently it started off as a local women's empowerment thing, and has since grown to become an offbeat tourist attraction (maybe half the crowd was tourists).  Having seen it, I don't understand it any better, and I'm not likely to return home a professional wrestling fan, but we definitely had a good time.  (Check out Oscar's more detailed write-up of the action here.)

We're off tomorrow for Uyuni - 5am pickup for the airport.  So this afternoon is devoted to catching up on work, blogs and naps.

Machu Picchu (a bit out of order -- we visited April 14)

One of the world's most famous views, early in the morning

I was prepared to be underwhelmed by Machu Picchu.  We've all seen the photos and the site has become as iconic as the Eiffel Tower or the Parthenon.  How could it possibly live up to its reputation? Despite iffy weather and a plethora of tourists, it was incredible!

The morning did not get off to a good start.  We awoke in Aguas Calientes, the sorriest tourist town I've seen in yet in South America, to a steady rain and dense fog.  We had bought Machu Picchu entrance and train tickets far in advance, so we had no choice but to wolf down breakfast at 7 and join the soggy pack of tourists lining up for the 20 minute bus ride up to the site.

Arriving at the parking lot at the top of the hill was like entering a mosh pit of visitors from all over the world.  As we conferred under an awning -- should we hike Machu Picchu mountain or not? -- I heard fellow travelers speaking Mandarin, Spanish, English, German, Japanese, French, and more.

We had arranged to meet a guide at 1 p.m., so we decided to climb the mountain and hope the clouds would part for a view.  Even though the lady at the gate said, "no vale la pena" to climb, we did so anyway.  Fortunately, the rain stopped just as we started.

The hike was two hours straight up well-preserved staircases built by the Incas, with orchids, birds, and the occasional glimpse of green, jagged mountain tops all around.  We heard the Urubamba river roaring below, first on the left, then on the right, as it snaked around the mountain.  (Sadly, a tourist died rafting the Urubamba the day after we were there.  With our Futaleufu rafting trip still fresh in our minds, we studied the river during the train ride from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes.  In our humble opinion, it looked mostly unraftable).

I'd be lying if I said the climb was easy.  Less than 10% of the 5,000 daily visitors to Machu Picchu climb the mountain.  The few who do so are quite fit.  A father/son duo from Bogota actually ran by us during our ascent.  In all fairness, and we checked the climber registry upon leaving, most of the hikers that day were in their 20s and 30s.  Ruby tied for youngest climber of the day.  And Alicia probably did the first ever backwards descent of Machu Picchu mountain -- perhaps starting a worldwide trend for folks plagued with knee issues (patent pending).

Machu Picchu mountain supposedly has a commanding view of Machu Picchu itself, as well as sizable mountains all around.  We shared the top with a straggly group of tourists and lots of clouds, but the experience was well worth it.  Because the weather was so lousy, many of the staircases at the top seemed to float in and out of fog.  It was mostly beautiful, and only a tiny bit terrifying.

Upon descending, we wolfed down the rest of our sandwiches.  We had only a few minutes to rest up before we met Chris, the archaelogist brother of Javier, the tour guide recommended by my parents.  Chris took us back to the top of Machu Picchu and we then spent the next three hours descending and exploring every nook and cranny.

What were the highlights?

1.  Getting a sense of the incredible planning that went into Machu Picchu -- 60% of the site consists of underground foundations, drainage, etc.

These terraces have held up over the centuries because of sophisticated construction techniques that layered gravel and soil to permit drainage.  

2.  Taking a close work at the different styles of stone work -- the finest reserved for royalty -- and learning how the Incas built walls to survive earthquakes.

This has been described as "the most beautiful wall in South America"

Amazing stonework evocative of marshmallows

3.  Given that archaeologists know relatively little about the Incas, learning about different theories and seeing how much is left to discover.

Hiram Bingham called this the "jail," but archaeologists now think it is a condor and has spiritual significance

 
To carve this torch holder (?), the Incas had to remove the stone surrounding it.  
They accomplished this without metal tools or wheels -- just stone on stone.

Incan mummies probably fit better than modern day 13 year olds.

Our day at Machu Picchu was exhausting, wet, exhilarating, and definitely hard on the knees.  Neil, Alicia and I rewarded ourselves with massages and a special cuy (guinea pig) dinner in Aguas Calientes.  The kids had screen time and hamburgers.

Food Court

Yes, somehow, after traveling in South America for almost 5 months, we have reached the food court of a mall in La Paz.  I'm waiting for my fried chicken now, while Yo and Ruby pick something up at Subway.  Poor Oscar is missing this, in the hotel, recovering from a stomach thing.

Copacabana

It's hard to believe, but Copacabana, Bolivia (population 6,000, elevation 12,500 feet) was the inspiration for the famed Copacabana Beach in Rio.

We rolled into the original yesterday morning after a 3 hour bus ride from Puno, Peru.  The dreaded border crossing was fine.  We had heard that the Bolivians go out of their way to hassle Americans.  They treated us just fine!  Maybe our crisp dollars had something to do with it.  While everybody else goes through quickly without a need for money or much paperwork, we had to photocopy our passports, fill out a visa application form, and hand over $540 in impeccable bills.  That's the famed "reciprocity fee" many South American countries have started charging US citizens, since we charge their citizens so much to apply to enter our country.  I suppose there's a certain logic there.  At least we were certain we'd get in.

This looks like photoshop, but it's actually us at the border

Not only is Copacabana firmly on the gringo trail as a base for exploring Lake Titicaca (that means grey puma in Quechua!), but it is a huge destination for Bolivians on Good Friday.  Yes, our timing was perfect.  We also arrived on Good Friday.  Thousands of people make the two day pilgrimage from La Paz to Copacabana to visit the twelve stations of the cross and then the cathedral.  As our bus rounded the bend on the hill overlooking town, we saw tents, colorful stalls, and what can only be described as Coney Island-type crowds in a small beach town.  Oh my.  

The most incredible feat of the day was our bus stopping in the middle of Copacabana's biggest intersection (which is not that big, but still), and managing to turn 180 degrees to double park next to the terminal terrestre.  It was like a 30-point turn that took 15 minutes to execute in front of an audience of hundreds.  Hats off to Bolivian bus drivers.  

The hardest thing we did yesterday was loading ourselves up with all our luggage and walking 4 short blocks uphill to our hotel.  We can easily carry our stuff under normal circumstances, but the altitude here makes you gasp for breath at the merest exertion, plus poor Oscar was running a slight fever.  Even though we spent a lot of time at high altitude in Ecuador, Oscar has developed a sensitivity to it in Peru and Bolivia.  He's a good sport but it's no fun feeling headachy, nauseated, listless and feverish, especially when on the move.  

After settling into our hostal, which provides coca tea and snacks round the clock, we felt ready to explore Copacabana.  (Oscar stayed in bed -- we have some common sense!).  We secured a lunch spot outside on 6 de Agosto, the main drag leading downhill from the Cathedral to the beach.  A three course menu del día with delicious quinoa soup and trout cost a mere 20 bolivianos ($3).  

We then proceeded to enjoy the most diverse street parade imaginable.  I read that 60% of Bolivia's population is indigenous.  Lake Titicaca is home to Quechua and Amarya people, many of whom were out for a stroll.  We also saw middle class Bolivians (I haven't seen so many dogs on leashes since Ecuador), the ubiquitous Argentinian backpackers, and gringos of all shapes and sizes.  The pilgrims were easy to spot -- most carried wooden staffs and carried backpacks with sleeping pads.  It was nice to see so many Bolivians in the crowd and to see the gringos and hippies outnumbered for once.

Neil, Ruby and I also wandered up to the Cathedral, which was surrounded by indigenous ladies selling Easter stuff -- intricate flower arrangements, crosses etc. woven out of reeds, and what I can only describe as shiny Catholic tchotchkes.  

Two smurfs

Vendors had also set up carnival games for the pilgrims and tourists.  The funniest thing that happened to us was our very public and humiliating turn at a soccer carnival game (see below).  Ruby almost won by kicking over 4 out of 6 metal cups.  Neil missed them completely.  I got one on the rebound.  We have found Bolivians to be more reserved than Peruvians.  But our inept athletic display elicited huge laughs from the vendors and the friendly crowd.  

It's harder than it looks!

We also played pinball on an ingenious homemade board decorated with rapper stickers, a bike bell, and other obstacles sized for marbles.  It was much more challenging than a regular pinball machine. The other carnival games were impossible to decipher.  

Despite our dismal performance at the carnival games, I really loved exploring Copacabana on Good Friday.  Imagine Occupy Wall Street-like tents overtaking an entire small beach town.  There was a festive family atmosphere.  Every business in town was selling baño access and a few entrepreneurs were selling mattress space.  Street vendors were selling sopa de gallina, salchipapas, chicha, and my favorite -- the biggest assortment of puffy, crunchy snacks (chicharrones, yuca, etc.) you could imagine.  

Vendors near the bus station

Due to Oscar's illness, we skipped the day-long excursion to Isla del Sol in order to push onto La Paz.  I'm sorry to miss out on the biggest attraction here, but it just gives us a reason to return.  Besides, we hadn't booked the fancy hydrofoil tour, and I read that the regular boats don't usually have enough life jackets for the 3-4 hour ride.  I'm not generally an uptight person, but, really?  Why take any chances?  Besides, I can only imagine what it would be like to go on the lake today with the Easter crowds.

Onto La Paz -- the 2,000 foot descent will hopefully do Oscar some good.  The hotel we booked for tomorrow can't take us tonight, so we booked the nicest hotel we could find as a special treat.  The staff at the hostal in Cococabana could not have been more helpful to us.  They've arranged a taxi and are not even charging us the extra night.  We're off, plastic bags and Imodium in hand.  

Bolivia is landlocked but maintains a navy on Lake Titicaca.  Here's a member of the Bolivian Armada directing traffic at the ferry crossing.

That's a lot of chicha!

We couldn't leave Peru without stopping into a chicheria.  Folks indicate they have the homemade fermented corn drink available for sale by hanging a red plastic bag outside their doorway.  Here are Alicia and Neil enjoying local chicha in Ollantaytambo.  Two glasses set us back 3 soles (about a dollar).

Two chicherias can be seen here on a quiet street in Ollanta.

Happy Pesach!

Feeling a bit sad about missing out on a real Passover this year. If we had done some better planning, we might have made it to the huge Chabad Seder in Cusco, where some 3000 Israeli youths convene during their post-army trips. (Yes, there are literally thousands of young Israelis in Cusco!). And while that would have been an experience to remember, there's really nothing like Mom's brisket...

Anyway, said brisket not being available, we borrowed a page from the famous painting of the last supper (a Seder, as we know) in the Cusco cathedral showing Christ and the disciples sitting down to a feast of Andean guinea pig, or cuy. Yes, last night we finally decided to try the roast rodent. I'm glad I did, but I can't say I'm in a hurry to do so again. Gamy, oily and bony. I think I'll stick with brisket. 

36 hours in Lima, mas o menos

Posted by Alicia Villarosa, guest blogger

All photos from Lorry's book.

I left New York Tuesday afternoon on my way to Cusco.  In around 48 hrs I would  meet up with La Familia Wu-Platt.  But first a side trip to Lima to visit my sort of brother in law Lorry Salcedo…for details in the exact nature of our relationship you’ll have to ask Yolanda. Two movies (Nebraska and World War Z) and 10 hours later I touched down in Lima and it was just before midnight when Lorry welcomed me Pisco in hand to his beautiful apartment in Barranco.  Fifteen minutes outside of Lima, Barranco sits atop a cliff overlooking the ocean.  It’s the trendy but laid back area where lots of artists live and is VERY different from its Miraflores, the next town over.  Imagine Barranco like Brookyn with a hip, cool vibe while Miraflores screams Miami Beach.  When I arrived Lorry was busy working with his assistant/man servant Marco prepping for his a big party the next night to celebrate the release of his photo book about the Huamachuco region.  The Pisco and my long day of travel kicked in and half an hour later he wished me buenos suertes and was fast asleep. 

The next day Marco and I crisscrossed the city running errands in traffic that makes the LA freeway look as uncongested as the Autoban and Marco informed me that rush hour was “every hour”. Back at the apartment I decided to go for a pre party run which essentially means running down a winding path to the ocean, a brief jog along the water and then in a lung searing ascent back up the hill to the apartment.  With lungs in hand I collapsed un-gloriously in a sweaty heap, at the door.  Time for cerveza and siesta.  Revived and dressed (up) I met Lorry at the party that overflowed onto the street with over a hundred people.  It was a blur of introductions, presentation of diplomats, honorees and featured an exhibit of Lorry’s colorful portraits of native Huamachuquinos.  Wine and including finger  sandwiches were served made with egg salad, ground almonds, olive spread and the national condiment, mayonnaise, oddly delish.

I was shoveling in sandwiches and practicing my terrible Spanish when Marco whisked me away to an intimate dinner for family and friends at a fancy restaurant across the street.  Our private room was lined with earthen Pisco jars and the moment we sat down, pisco, wine and appetizers began a nonstop rotation.  Lorry’s sisters and (other) sisterinlaws spontaneously broke out in traditional Peruvian songs and someone from the restaurant brought out a drum as accompaniment.  I knew the evening was just starting.  Just as my bedtime rolled around we ordered dinner.  One look at my seafood cazuela and my appetite rallied and I ate every bite.   Midnight marked the arrival of multiple deserts and drinks and also the end of the rally. No Mas!  Finally El Jefe, a man at the head of the table who appeared to be in charge called for toast.  He thanked Lorry, and EVERYONE in attendance and made a speech but by that time I could barely keep my head off the table.  At 2am the party finally broke up and  EL Jefe drove us home in his chauffeured car. Goodbyes were said, and after he gave me sloppy kiss I remember him saying to Lorry how much he liked me but it could never work because I was “mas alta” too tall.

The next day as I departed for Cusco Lorry told me the story of El Jefe.  He was from Huamachuco and become a multimillionaire in the fishing industry and was still very connected to the region.  Lorry knew he was someone who like to be flattered and set out to court him by dedicating an entire page in he book to him as well as in honoring  him at the party. El Jefe in turn had paid for the entire dinner, bought 100 books on the spot and purchased the whole collection of photos.  As I congratulated Lorry on a job well done, he said “just another a typical night for me here in Peru.  That’s why I’m coming for a visit next month to New York, I need to rest.”