PERU, Lima, Wednesday 7th November

In a tinny, clattering chaos, Lima reared its head from the cloud of overcast smog as we trundled towards it in the jostling stream of shabby traffic. I emerged from the bus depot and picked out a yellow taxi (supposedly the legit. ones, although mine was more a shade of home-painted orange) from the throng attempting to get me, and my bag, into their back seats.
We made our way towards Miraflores, the smart part of town, along a duel carriageway that acts as a main vein for traffic to and from the centre of the city. Sloping grass banks mown into advertisements and large billboards lined the roads. Back in a big city...
Lima looks to be one of those cities where growth has taken it by surprise and consequently sprawls outwards in a tumbling chaos of concrete and wiring.
Only when I ventured into the very centre of the city did I find some grand, ornate Spanish architecture.

I arrived yesterday half deaf after the dramatic drop in altitude from around 2,000m to sea level. From rustic, rural calm to fume-filled mania. But I am a city girl and rather enjoy big, noisy, smoky metropolises for some reason. I like the challenge of digging out their treasures.
My hostel, Flying Dog, greeted me warmly and I settled in. Miraflores is an area full of hostels, cafes, bars, restaurants and shopping centres. Smart Lima-dwellers (Limainans?!) strut or sip coffee and it feels safe after dark, thanks to the abundance of out door cafes brightly lit.

Today I taxied it into the centre. We battled through the traffic and finally a building not resembling a concrete shoe box appeared, as we passed a large corrugated-iron construction site which promised to be the new, shiny Estacion Central.
From the PLaza San Martin, banked on all sides by serious, grand stone buildings, I dodged the attentions of a beaming business man and went down the pedestrianised shopping street towards the Plaza de Armas and running the gauntlet of young men offering me tattoos, piercings, grass or charly and, failing that, just trying to talk to me.
Tucan, it turns out, are arriving in Lima early, so I left a note at their hotel arranging to meet them later. Carla is a Lima girl born and bred and I jump at the chance for a nocturnal tour of the city with a local.
I then joined the throngs in the Plaza de Armas and hopped into the Cathedral for some peace and quiet. The decor in the Cathedral was that of a calmer Spanish Catholicism than of that in Cusco. There was, of course, the usual gilt and colour but set in a cooler, high arched modesty. There was also some impressive carved wood to counteract the sparkle.

I composed this blog sitting in a smart cafe in Miraflores, served to me by a very genteel old waiter. It was my 3rd cafe con leche of the day and it has made me jittery. Time for another wander methinks...