living on the edge

Before coming here, when I thought South America, the first thing that came to mind was danger. That is probably this continent´s biggest stereotype, especially among North Americans. The typical traveling family says, ¨Yes, I know there is beautiful scenery down there, incredible diversity, interesting culture, but (tightens lips and takes a breath) it´s dangerous.¨ The fact is, it IS dangerous. I´m sure there is a lot of crazy stuff that happens here that I don´t even know about. Warnings to not go near that district after dark or never, or to never go walking on those streets are very typical, and I´m sure for good reason. I find myself living in the district of San Borja, highly reputed as one of the most safest and subdued areas of the city. Just the other week some dude started moaning and yelling outside someone´s house on my block. It wasn´t more than 2 minutes before two police cars and a moto-cop rushed to this seemly harmless domestic disturbance. My roommate Incio went outside to get a closer look and returned to tell me horrifying news of a love triangle gone wrong, ending in a fatal stabbing. Of course, I believed him (with my preconceived notions of South American crime) and thought ¨wow, here in San Borja? huh...¨ I knew my parents would be scared for my safety when I told them. But, you know it´s kind of cool to live on the edge here in a dangerous neighborhood. Minutes later Incio told me he was joking and he actually had no idea what happened, but nothing bad. I felt deceived and slightly disappointed...I mean I´m really glad no one got hurt.

Limeans, at least here in San Borja, do not joke around with security. Bad neighborhoods are miles and miles away, but better safe than sorry, right? I´ve been quite impressed with some of the creativity these people imploy in securing their houses. For instance, instead of barbed wire on the top of a wall or fence, they just find a whole bunch of pieces of sharp glass, point the sharp end up and then set it in cement (see photo). Also, spikes are very popular as well as electric wire. But sometimes I think they take it a little too far. Actually, I interviewed a burgular about it (translated from Spanish of course).

¨So I went to rob this guy´s house, but he had like mad security. First I escaped the 3 levels of sharp, rusty spikes. Then I slithered through the electric wire. Next, I outran the 2 trained-to-kill pitbulls, then finally picked the lock to his front door.¨

Do I make my point? Isn´t just one layer of spikes or an electric fence enough?

I recently enjoyed a very nice dinner at my friend Francisco´s uncle´s house. It was billed as a barbeque, so I was very excited to see what that actually meant here. We met at the supermarket, where Fran´s uncle picked up a HUGE piece of meat...ribs, legs, basically the whole back half of the animal. I later found out it was young goat. Back to his place and after a few chilcanos (pisco and ginger ale), it was time to start cooking. The ¨grill¨was actually a smoker. A giant, black metal barrel heated below by carbon coals. They hung the goat on meat hooks and in two hours, it would be time to eat. Unfortunately, it was 10pm and I was hungry! Fortunately the fish and mushrooms that were cooking by the same method only took half the time. But when it was finally time to eat the main course, it was well worth the wait. Great flavor, meat falling off the bone, all served with a nice red from Catalunya (Spain). My first but certainly not my last time eating goat. Hey...don´t my grandparents have a goat farm??

Until next time...