Lima seems an awful long time ago now, but following a gentle prompt from the ever vigilant and concerned Señor Cuthbert, I feel the abrupt ending to the last post did a great injustice to the whole South American experience, which has, in spite of he previous post, been the most extraordinary journey of my life. There are some great photos to show from Peru, and the healing power of time has made me think differently about the country now. Which is just as well, because having abandoned thsmblog for some time, I'm going to pick up where i left off, in Lima, Peru.
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No thanks to the incompetence of my travel agent in Hong Kong (who has, as some of you will know, been spoken to), the flight out of Lima had to be postponed several times before I was confirmed on the Taca Airlines all-dayer to Costa Rica and Los Angeles. You could say I was a bit punchy during those few days in Lima, so when I arrived at the airport to be told I couldnt board because I needed a Visa Waiver ESTA code to enter the country, you can imagine the scene. I shan't go into it here, but suffice it to say, the world of business class travel has seen better moments.
You might also imagine my reaction when, applying for an ESTA at the airport Starbucks, I realized that I in fact HAD one all along. Another day in Lima, but at least now I was good to go.
All through this journey, it has amazed me how random strokes of good fortune and the most interesting encounters have arisen from seemingly disastrous mishaps. And so it was to prove on this occasion. Had the one-day delay not have occurred, I would not have walked on the connection plane in Costa Rica (fuming from business lounge bloody marys) to find myself sitting next to a self-made, old-timer entrepreneur in the concrete business by the name of Paul. Equally relieved to be next to a kindred spirit, he proceeded to order drink after drink. Conversation surrounding my three of my favorite topics - sport, tech, and road trips - made the five and a half hour flight an absolute pleasure. Since he lived in Orange County, and seeing as I was heading in the direction of San Diego, he offered me a lift as far as Irvine, saving me from the depressing prospect of arriving without a hotel, car or friend of any sort (at midnight), and a good day of navigating the beastly Los Angeles sprawl.
Being a golfer, fly-fisher, and regular road tripper, Paul was extremely knowledgeable about all the best places in America to go to and the most scenic roads to take, so I milked hid knowledge for all it was worth. Although clueless and a little unsettled in Peru, by the time i checked into the Courtyard Marriott just off Highway 5, I knew what my plan was with cast iron certainty. First, though, I had to pay an old friend a visit.
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