this sweet, affectionate mexican hairless dog seemed to live at the museum
this sweet, affectionate mexican hairless dog seemed to live at the museum
also, a mini-collection of daemons stabbing humans in the neck. note rickety, earthquake-unsafe shelving.
and good landscaping!
one of the highlights of the MASSIVE collection at the last lima museum we went to, pueblo libre’s Larco Herrera museum: a whole loom-weaving scene from Chancay!
churín sob story: we were going to stop in a little resort town that the rough guide mentions having hot springs. we called the midrange hotel from trujillo, because it has cheap offseason rates and a website (listed below for you to BOYCOTT), to ask how to get there. they said bus to huacho, then take combis out. we got there hours late becuz of bus delays, and when we call the hotel from huacho to say we can’t get there until 3am, and to ask if they’ll wait up for us, the asshole (same voice as day before) says, i’m all alone cuz the hotel’s empty and it’s the offseason, so no, i won’t open the door at 3, stay the night in huacho. fuck that! whatever you do, don’t give one red cent to these assholes:
best food of our entire northern journey was this one. a housewife was cooking with a propane burner on a streetcorner (avenue and residential street) a block from where we were surprised by a closed restaurant we’d found online. andrew said he knew he could trust the place, despite the limited menu, because the chicken looked well-fried (caramel brown, not sleazy gold). and damned if she didn’t make a great stewed duck typical of the north! we ordered three plates and two desserts (perfect rice pudding, while we’re singing her praises), the grand total of which came to US$3. anyone passing thru trujillo should totally go to manco capac and av las americas in las quintanas and find her, she’s a national treasure.
laredo is a crazy company town, and that company is a colombian-owned sugar concern whose giant factory (depicted in the only picture i could take before security got antsy) makes the ENTIRE city stink of sweet, burning cane. we came here cuz josé watanabe was born here, and because chan chan and huanchaco weren’t enough daytrips for one day.
they eat vinegary lupini beans here (i.e., northcentral perú)! they add cilantro and call it “chocho”, wierdly enough.
worst restaurant name ever. so bad we didn’t even eat there (plus the food looked gross).
this is that green patch barely visible a few photos back. those tiny black specks are a red-beaked variety of mudhens, my spirit animals.
this is ONE of about TEN hypothesized sections around the same size
in this shitty photo, you can’t see the amazing cartoon roosters painted all over the walls, but these are the walls of a “turistic” coliseum devoted specifically to COCKFIGHTING in the now-bourgie beachtown of Huanchaco, an outlying neighborhood of trujillo where we somehow found ourselves paying an ungodly 20 sols for ceviche (taxi drivers’ recommendations are completely worthless in this fucking country).
