Bucket Lists aren't really my style. Oh, there are things I want to do, but Bucket List has a certain connotation to it, as in, I'd better hurry up and do x because my days are numbered. Not my style. Still, if I were to have such a list, and I told you that one of the items on it had to do with Peru, 99% of you would assume I was talking about Machu Pichu. And you'd be wrong.
The 1% of you who said, "I bet it's the old, 'see the inside of two South American police stations in one day' " would be right. How did I manage to get an insider's view of the workplace of both Trujillo's and Lima's finest in the span of 8 hours? Glad you asked.
In Trujillo, we were driving from lunch to the hotel and were planning to stop to pick up some souvenirs. Trujillo is a coastal city with an active surfing area, and along that part of the beach are some little shops setup in booths, like a mini open-air Plaza Fiesta. We were driving north on a road that parallels the southbound-only coastal road, looking for the right cross-street to take to get to these shops. The son of the mine owner (or coke dealer as you may recall from earlier posts) was driving. We took a left down an alley, coming out on the coastal road about 3 bocks south of the target. Percy Jr decided to make the right turn anyway, continuing our northward treck on what is now a 2-lane one-way street - the wrong way. Now, given some of the driving I'd seen in my 2 days in Peru, this neither surprised nor concerned me, but the Pisco Sours may have clouded my judgement. As we cruised along cautiously, I tried to read the signage on the buildings. As luck would have it, just as I translated the one that said Oficinas Municipales de la Policía, a nice man in a uniform toting a small firearm pointed at our Toyota with a "what exactly do you think you're doing" look on his face. We pulled to the side and when PJ explained he was visiting from Venezuela, the apparently Chavez-weary officer asked him for his papers and had PJ follow him into the station. PJ's cousin followed and I sat in the car for a while, but eventually I wanted to see what was up, so I (foreshadowing) grabbed my laptop bag and made it close enough to the open doorway of the police station to see inside while Percy paid his $3 fine and was freed on his own recognizance (Words with Friends 100-pointer if ever there was one!). I took some pictures on my phone and (foreshadowing again) began to make plans for holding them over Percy Jr.'s head. Yes, we eventually did make it to the souvenir shops, where I felt sorry for the lady who sold me bracelets for the kids and therefor did not negotiate off the 3 for $7 offer she made.
We flew to Lima around 6 pm and had about 5 hours to kill before our red eye to Atlanta. Somebody suggested the hotel bar across the street from the airport since we'd stayed there two nights earlier and knew the place would be more quiet than anything inside the airport. Exhibiting Skipper-like leadership, one of our group declared the food wasn't too good at the hotel, so we should just go to the airport (because, you know, the food there is usually so memorable). We ended up in a cafe on the pre-security side of the terminal, re-watching Real Madrid vs Barcelona from earlier that day. Quick aside, Messi is a stud, and most other players on both sides deserve Oscar consideration for Best Flop When Lightly Touched By an Opposing Player. Somehow, as six of us sat there with the bags piled up immediately behind two of the guys who were sitting with their backs facing the concourse, somebody managed to make off with two laptop bags, one of which was mine. The perp got my smartphone, a watch, my bluetooth unit, and the company laptop. Fortunately all my work documents are backed up so I didn't lose anything there. He also got my all-time favorite laptop bag.
We found a Police Officer who ultimately agreed to walk us over the the station so I could file a report for insurance purposes. One of our Spanish-speaking cohorts came along and we sat with a detective who seemed mildly annoyed by my reporting this relative minor crime. After 30 minutes or so, he printed out the report, stamped it and signed it. Then he stamped and signed again, and a third time for good measure. As we walked back, I examined the signatures. Three different names, 3 different looking signatures, and 3 different seals, all made by the one guy. I was glad I hadn't tried to thank Senior Hurtado and/or Castillo and/or Munez by name.
See the inside of two police stations in two South American cities in the same day. Check!
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