Today we got to Second Home. We were on an overnight plane. I had really bad leg problems, they really hurt which made it hard to sleep.We arrived at the airport, got our luggage, then went out and found the person who was driving our taxi to Second Home. I could not understand anything because it was all in Spanish, but luckily Mom told us some things that the taxi driver was saying.
When we got to Second Home I was really excited because it looked really fun and in the courtyard it had a big centerpiece that was a tree with some yellow flowers. There was also a little pond that was not filled and was made out of little pieces of glass and was in the shape of a dragon. To the side of that, there was a big wall that was made out of pieces of glass, too. Then there was a walkway that goes around and some cool sculptures like a horse and some swings. To the side of the wall was the kitchen where we ate breakfast. We could not go in our room because some people were still in it. In the back yard there were some sculptures, too, including a turtle, a horse, a bull, some fish, and a bird. The back had a view of the ocean.
The house is on a cliff and the ocean is down at the bottom. The person who owns this place saw us looking at the ocean and took us to her father’s workspace where he does all his sculptures and paintings. There is art all over the house – on paintings on the walls, sculptures in the garden and in the halls, and flowers everywhere. It is like living in museum in paradise.
When we got to see our room, which was around one o’clock, we were really tired, so we took a nap. Earlier we got sunburned while walking around town and on the beach. When we woke up mommy and daddy were all red. When we walked around town, Darius took lots of pictures of flowers and other things.
There are two dogs that live at Second Home. One is named Zeus and the other is Yanna. We played with Zeus a lot after our nap.More from Mike:
There is never enough time. Nearly everything was packed five days ago. There was a short list of tasks to finish around the house before leaving for the airport. Still, the last hour was a mad dash. It didn’t help that it rained on the two days we hoped to finish raking the lawn and the now freezing temperature granted permission for leaves to cling stubbornly to the ground. Meanwhile, the phone was set on permanent ring as our short to-do-list refused to accept adulthood and insisted on continuing to grow. But, like our days in school, we were saved by the bell. Three o’clock came, we jumped into the car, and were off.
I can remember when red-eye travel was intriguing. Climb onto a plane, train, or bus, find a comfortable position, fall asleep, and then wake in an exciting new place. No more. Perhaps it is more difficult to get 40 year old bodies comfortable in cramped airplane seats. Perhaps our ears are more attuned to the unwanted noise of flight attendants querying whether sleepy passengers want pasta or chicken at one in the morning. Or perhaps the warmth of a child’s body pressed against your side is not as appealing at 37,000 feet as it is in a king-sized bed. But the night sure was long.
Landing groggily in Lima, we feared that our plan to escape the cold winter weather was foiled. Through dripping windows, we watched groundsmen scurrying across tarmac bundled in thick coats and hats. What happened to the weather report? It was supposed to be sunny and 60! If it is this cold at sea level, our thin Polartec jackets will never cut it at 12,000 feet! But then we realized, Limeans must be stitched of a fabric similar to Cochabambinos – a fabric so thin that the slightest touch of non-tropical air triggers an instinct to bundle oneself in a thick layer clothing. Blanketed in thick morning fog, the temperature was the comforting 60 degrees we eagerly anticipated!
At customs, the kids got a taste of long cues. At the baggage claim, it was fear. Where is our bag. Around and round the luggage track went. The one bag packed tight with the few things we were allowed to bring was no where to be seen. Then a deep sigh rose above the bustling sounds of fellow passengers fighting over-stuffed bags and carts parked unnecessarily close to the track as our bag appeared on the track.
Outside, we eyed Fermin, our driver, holding high a sign with our name scribbled on it. Insisting on carrying our bag, he nearly fell to the floor. His ability to navigate the already bustling streets of Lima proved much better than his weight estimation skills. In short order, we passed through the typically unappealing neighborhoods that surround airports, dissected a residential area, and then followed the coast past the cliffs of Mariflores before ascending to Baranco. Awaiting was Second Home, a tranquil retreat recently restored by Lilian, the daughter of a now famous artist in residence.
Inside the large, bronze gate was a courtyard filled with sculptures and other artwork. On a bronze horse a morning dove sang its sad song. Above us, a other birds chirped, cooed, and whistled as we made our way into a large kitchen with a massive handcrafted wooden table set for breakfast. Tired and hungry, we took in fresh breads spread with jam, worked our way through a bunch of sweet little bananas, and savored coffee laced with thick cream. As we ate, Lilian gave us a short history of her home. The child of an artist, her family had been evicted from place to place for several years as her father endeavored to support them through art. Then, in the early 1970’s he was discovered. Overnight, their family went from displacement to stability. Soon after, her father acquired a small studio on a cliff overlooking the Pacific. Lilian began babysitting for a family that lived in an estate down the street from the studio. A few years later, the estate went on the market and her father purchased it, converting rooms on the second floor to his studio. Over the years, he expanded the structures on the property, building a new studio into the cliff, a small pool, a metal working area, and other small residences. Then, in the 1990’s, he decided to relocate to New York and Europe. While away, other artists who lived in the estate became more immersed in their work than they did in maintaining the property. Ten years later, Lilian and her brother decided to reclaim the family’s estate. Bringing their father home, they converted the main structure into an art studio and a bed-and-breakfast by the sea. With 16 foot ceilings, the first floor is full of her father’s paintings and smaller sculptures. The second floor contains a large sitting area that spills onto a balcony looking over a lawn filled with large sculptures and which drops abruptly 200 feet to the sea. Surrounding the sitting area are large bedrooms decorated with simple wrought iron frames and dark wooden furniture. The windows are wide open letting in the soothing sounds of the sea. After a long night on a cramped plane, Second Home is paradise.
Outside the estate’s walls is the quite neighborhood of Baranco. A block away is a park filled with flowers and a bridge passing over a pedestrian road that descends to the sea. On the other side is a the central plaza filled with fountains, gardens, and several benches that attract elderly men and young families that gather to talk as they watch their townsmen pass by. Around the plaza is a theater, a moderate sized church, and several restaurants. After a walk down to the shore, where we listened to the rocks clatter and clap as waves recede, we followed a recommendation for a place called Canta Rana – singing frog. Our travel book (as well as the B&B cook) gave it a big thumbs up, but said its small sign made it hard to find. And it was. We passed by twice before asking for directions from an elderly woman who followed us to be sure we got in. Inside, Canta Rana looked like a questionable place, particularly for our fist day! Hungry, we braved it. Making Liana’s Bolivian family cringe, Mike ordered a mixed plate of cerviche and a beer. The kids split a bowl of pasta with sauce on the side. Liana ordered chicken. Soon, we were sipping the sauce with our spoons as though it was the most delicious tomato soup we had every experienced. The kids helped Liana polish off her chicken, while Mike savored the spicy, citrus flavor soaked into his raw squid, octopus, and several types of fish. If you are every in Baranco, look past the décor and enjoy Canta Rana’s great meals!
Full, we returned home for a long nap. That afternoon we lounged around, playing ball with a 3 month old puppy named Zeus, playing cards, and reading about things to do in Lima. As the sun set, we got to talking with a family from Oregon who had just returned from the Sacred Valley. We continued conversing over dinner at a small, well decorated restaurant on the square. Afterwards, we strolled around the plaza, watching a wedding spill out of the church, kids playing on the cobble walkways, and vendors selling their jewelry. On the way home, we walked among teenagers exploring their freedom, families spilling in and out of restaurants, and the ubiquitous spray paint artist creating his works. Before falling into a deep sleep, we lounged on the balcony listening the wave’s song as Cayla created her first blog entry. What started off as a rough ride ended with a deep sigh and excited anticipation for the many adventures to come.
