This sixth installment of William White’s move 7 thousand miles south from Seattle to Lima concludes the series.  Bill, however, will continue on as “Our Man in Lima” somewhat like Berangere is “Our Woman in Paris” except that she is also included in our name: dorpatsherrardlomont.  Bill will, at his pace, send us more travel writing, but pretty much sticking to Peru.  Hopefully, He’ll make it up to the Andes.  Kel, we know, has a car and is an excellent driver.  Meanwhile, we will be looking for other correspondents in far-flung places.

And here is a pretty view of the street where we live, taken from the window of our apartment:

Here is crumbling vista seen from the parking lot of the municipal building.  Most street parking is officiated by attendants running up and down the streets issuing tickets to people while they park, and then catching them upon their return to collect whatever fees have been incurred.  There are no parking meters; everything is done on a person to person basis, resulting in the occasional arguments over charges. At one point, we were charged for simply pulling into a parking space, then deciding not to stay there, It took some doing for Kel to win her argument with the fee collector, who hadn’t even written us a ticket yet, but ran out in the street at us as she say us pulling out.

In the markets, free agents hawking bags of asparagus compete with the established vendors for a sale.  Sometimes they offer a better deal, but often their sudden appearance can lead to an impulse buy that is not the wisest purchase one could make. Shopping in Lima is a process of looking around for the best goods at the best prices before deciding on what to buy.  Among the stalls of fruits of vegetables of variable quality and expense, the foods necessary to making a delicious dinner are waiting to be chosen by the cautious buyer.

And this is what an expertly prepared Peruvian meal might look like:

Even prettier is the person who prepared it.  For those who have not met her yet, here is Kel, dressed for work at the clinic, after having enjoyed a breakfast of fresh-squeezed orange juice, which is my job to prepare for her when she awakens each morning.