In addition to the ever intriguing cheek kiss, there appears to be even more complications with the greeting culture in Peru.
Two weeks ago, I was sitting in another teacher's classroom when her teenage daughter walked in. I was reading a magazine and the girl rushed over to her mom and began to animately describe her day. Her mom stopped her mid sentence and said, "Greet Miss Meghan." The girl rushed over to me and greeted me with a kiss.
Last week, I walked into work at 6:35am, greeted the secretary and rushed over to read the schedule. I was struggling to carry all of my books, dreading teaching so early in the morning and intently looking at the schedule. Within a few seconds, the cleaning lady waved her hand in front of me and said, "Hooolllllaaaa, Meghan. How are you?" with a slight twinge of frustration in her voice. It wasn't until much later that I realized that she was offended that I hadn't greeted her. A similar encounter like this has played out twice the same woman.
In several instances, when Alvaro and I have rushed into his house or been working intently and not greeted someone individually, we have been on the receiving end of a correctional conversation with his mom.
I finally asked him about this and he said that without a doubt, if you do not greet every single person in the room and/or house, you have just offended all who are present. It's an interesting cultural note because I am not used to such formalized greetings, especially in everyday settings with individuals I do not know very well. Though it's sightly uncomfortable, I think that my discomfort speaks to the individualized American in me that has been cultured for the past twenty three years.
What cultural differences have you encountered when it comes to greetings?
Showing posts with label Culture Shock. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Culture Shock. Show all posts
Fish Market
Lima smells like fish.
When I walk outside in the early morning or later in the evening, I am hit with an overwhelming smell that resembles that of the fresh fish section at Publix. Actually, I don’t even have to leave my apartment to enjoy the sweet stench rolling in from the ocean. Thanks to the lack of sealant in most Peruvian apartments, my windows are not completely sealed. Sure, they are closed, but there are small open spaces that allow for the horrid smell to be the first thing my senses register in the morning.
These small openings not only welcome this smell, but also an abundance and dirt and dust. Never before have I so genuinely appreciated the cleaning power of rain. Since it never rains in Lima, and the city is next to a desert, everything is coated in a terrible brown dust. Somehow this dust manages to find its way into my apartment. My entire apartment requires a weekly dusting and frequent vacuuming. Between the dust and Emmaline's hair, I feel like I am losing the war for cleanliness in my place. I now am beginning to understand why nearly every Peruvian family has maid.
The fish smell seeps into my apartment and wishes me a delightful good morning. In the evenings as I walk to work, the smell returns and accompanies me on my walk through the park. I have absolutely no idea why this phenomenon occurs. Alvaro says that it means winter is coming, but I’m not convinced that’s the source. It’s seems like one of those interesting associations that Peruvians use to describe every weather change and illness. My personal favorite is this on from Alvaro’s mom: “If you drink ice water, you will certainly get an immediate cold.”
When I walk outside in the early morning or later in the evening, I am hit with an overwhelming smell that resembles that of the fresh fish section at Publix. Actually, I don’t even have to leave my apartment to enjoy the sweet stench rolling in from the ocean. Thanks to the lack of sealant in most Peruvian apartments, my windows are not completely sealed. Sure, they are closed, but there are small open spaces that allow for the horrid smell to be the first thing my senses register in the morning.
These small openings not only welcome this smell, but also an abundance and dirt and dust. Never before have I so genuinely appreciated the cleaning power of rain. Since it never rains in Lima, and the city is next to a desert, everything is coated in a terrible brown dust. Somehow this dust manages to find its way into my apartment. My entire apartment requires a weekly dusting and frequent vacuuming. Between the dust and Emmaline's hair, I feel like I am losing the war for cleanliness in my place. I now am beginning to understand why nearly every Peruvian family has maid.
The fish smell seeps into my apartment and wishes me a delightful good morning. In the evenings as I walk to work, the smell returns and accompanies me on my walk through the park. I have absolutely no idea why this phenomenon occurs. Alvaro says that it means winter is coming, but I’m not convinced that’s the source. It’s seems like one of those interesting associations that Peruvians use to describe every weather change and illness. My personal favorite is this on from Alvaro’s mom: “If you drink ice water, you will certainly get an immediate cold.”
Pirate Market
In the past four months, I have learned a great deal about social norms. In Lima, it’s socially acceptable to arrive over an hour late to a social gathering. Generally speaking, it’s acceptable for men to turn their heads in a full 180º to check out a woman that has just walked by. The most surprising, however, is that it is socially acceptable to buy pretty much everything from a pirate market.
The two biggest pirate markets in Lima are Polvos Rosados and Polvos Azules (Pink Dust and Blue Dust, respectively). These two shopping malls are housed in a large warehouses complete with separate kiosks, snack machines, ATMs, actual shopping bags, business cards and police protection. Unlike the shady fake Louis Vuitton handbag purchases that take place in a dark corner of a New York subway station, pirate markets in Peru are not afraid to stand out. This is particularly obvious by the pink paint covering the exterior of Polvos Rosados.
When Alvaro first took me to Polvos Rosados several months ago, I entered the warehouse and my jaw dropped. I was in disbelief at the sheer number of products available for sale. Backpacks, electronics, movies, CDs, clothes, shoes, pet supplies, books- you want it, they have it. Alvaro goes to the same kiosk every time to purchase movies. Each movie kiosk is equipped with at least one decently sized flat screen TV on which customers can test their movies to check for quality. Our trusty pirated movie salesman can find a movie in a matter of seconds. They sell everything. From the most obscure foreign film to the movies that still haven’t arrived in Peruvian theaters, they have it. This kiosk sells movies for S./5 each, but if you buy four then you get a fifth one for free. About two months ago, Alvaro purchased the second Wall Street movie to watch for a class project. We started to watch the movie, only to discover that it was in black and white and the entire menu screen was in Russian. But no worries, our pirated movie salesman is so honest that he offered to switch out the movie for us at no additional cost. And my copy of Enchanted that wouldn’t play in English? No worries, he switched that one too and even threw in an extra movie for free, to compensate for “our trouble”.
Buying pirated movies in Peru has become so socially acceptable that the it seems ludicrous to buy your movies anywhere else. Video rental stores are non-existent in Lima. Forget Netflix and Redbox, they would be too expensive. Why rent a movie for $1 when you can buy it for $1.60? The movie selection at electronic stores and supermarkets is abysmal and if you were to find the movie you wanted, it would cost you at least $30. In a society in which the middle class has nearly disappeared, buying a movie is simply too expensive for a large majority of Peruvians. Which is why the pirate markets make sense, the movies are cheap, in wide supply and the demand in these markets is greater than in any other. Such a phenomenon has carried over to movie theaters. An adult ticket to a new release on a Friday night costs barely $5, if theaters in Lima were to charge the outrageous prices found in US, no one would go to the theaters. Why pay close to $50 to take your entire family to the movies when you can buy the same movie for less than $2 at Polvos Rosados?
Alvaro interns at one of the largest law firms in Lima and works in the Intellectual Property department. He spends his days writing cases for Adidas, Hello Kitty, Donkey Kong, Juicy Couture, Spongebob Squarepants, Louis Vuitton and Chanel, supporting these companies when knock-offs of their brand make it to the shores of Peru. Last week he went to a raid where he spent the better part of the day counting pairs of fake Chanel earrings to include in the evidence reports. For forty hours a week, he is surrounded by law regarding trademarks and branding, but yet last Sunday we came home from Polvos Rosados with seven movies. When lawyers and police accept something as a norm, I guess everyone else has no choice but to follow.
The two biggest pirate markets in Lima are Polvos Rosados and Polvos Azules (Pink Dust and Blue Dust, respectively). These two shopping malls are housed in a large warehouses complete with separate kiosks, snack machines, ATMs, actual shopping bags, business cards and police protection. Unlike the shady fake Louis Vuitton handbag purchases that take place in a dark corner of a New York subway station, pirate markets in Peru are not afraid to stand out. This is particularly obvious by the pink paint covering the exterior of Polvos Rosados.
When Alvaro first took me to Polvos Rosados several months ago, I entered the warehouse and my jaw dropped. I was in disbelief at the sheer number of products available for sale. Backpacks, electronics, movies, CDs, clothes, shoes, pet supplies, books- you want it, they have it. Alvaro goes to the same kiosk every time to purchase movies. Each movie kiosk is equipped with at least one decently sized flat screen TV on which customers can test their movies to check for quality. Our trusty pirated movie salesman can find a movie in a matter of seconds. They sell everything. From the most obscure foreign film to the movies that still haven’t arrived in Peruvian theaters, they have it. This kiosk sells movies for S./5 each, but if you buy four then you get a fifth one for free. About two months ago, Alvaro purchased the second Wall Street movie to watch for a class project. We started to watch the movie, only to discover that it was in black and white and the entire menu screen was in Russian. But no worries, our pirated movie salesman is so honest that he offered to switch out the movie for us at no additional cost. And my copy of Enchanted that wouldn’t play in English? No worries, he switched that one too and even threw in an extra movie for free, to compensate for “our trouble”.
Buying pirated movies in Peru has become so socially acceptable that the it seems ludicrous to buy your movies anywhere else. Video rental stores are non-existent in Lima. Forget Netflix and Redbox, they would be too expensive. Why rent a movie for $1 when you can buy it for $1.60? The movie selection at electronic stores and supermarkets is abysmal and if you were to find the movie you wanted, it would cost you at least $30. In a society in which the middle class has nearly disappeared, buying a movie is simply too expensive for a large majority of Peruvians. Which is why the pirate markets make sense, the movies are cheap, in wide supply and the demand in these markets is greater than in any other. Such a phenomenon has carried over to movie theaters. An adult ticket to a new release on a Friday night costs barely $5, if theaters in Lima were to charge the outrageous prices found in US, no one would go to the theaters. Why pay close to $50 to take your entire family to the movies when you can buy the same movie for less than $2 at Polvos Rosados?
Alvaro interns at one of the largest law firms in Lima and works in the Intellectual Property department. He spends his days writing cases for Adidas, Hello Kitty, Donkey Kong, Juicy Couture, Spongebob Squarepants, Louis Vuitton and Chanel, supporting these companies when knock-offs of their brand make it to the shores of Peru. Last week he went to a raid where he spent the better part of the day counting pairs of fake Chanel earrings to include in the evidence reports. For forty hours a week, he is surrounded by law regarding trademarks and branding, but yet last Sunday we came home from Polvos Rosados with seven movies. When lawyers and police accept something as a norm, I guess everyone else has no choice but to follow.
More of the same
I have bouts of optimism that typically last anywhere from half a day to a full 24 hours. Then I wake up the next morning and realize that nothing significant has changed during my time in Lima and just like that- my optimism is gone. The most frustrating part of my entire experience here is feeling like everything comes with complications.
Obtaining my work visa has been an epic struggle. Thankfully it is now in Immigrations as I wait for my application to be approved. Getting it there was no easy task and I still don’t have it in my hand. I won’t scream victory until I am holding my card in my hand. Which is still anywhere from 3-6 weeks away.
I have now lived here for three and a half months and am better able to understand the reality of my expenses. After taking a closer look, there is no way for me to survive off my soon-to-be job with this particular institute. I had hoped that other Institutes would pay more, and they do, but only handful of soles, which is equivalent to, more or less, one American dollar.
I can’t look for other jobs because: a. I am still not able to legally work and b. I don’t speak fluent Spanish. I feel like I have been sentenced to work in an underpaid, under appreciated job as an English teacher for the rest of my time in Lima.
Teaching private students was both interesting and financially promising, that is, until most of my students decided they were “too busy” and started canceling all of their classes. A private teacher doesn’t make money if there isn’t a class. I went into Business Meghan mode and developed new payment and cancellation policies. These new policies were too late, all my students were long gone by then.
I can’t make friends my own age because the English speaking, 20-something year old, Expat community is small, if not simply limited to me. I need friends but then we have to speak Spanish. Which I could most likely handle at this point, but then comes to issue of transportation. I simply can’t move around in this city. If it’s not close enough to walk, I have to arrange a fleet of taxis to take me to dinner and frankly, just the thought of this arrangement makes me want to stay home.
Even if I decided to deal with the taxis and traffic and stress of going out without my own car, most likely Alvaro’s mom and Aunts would jump in before I could do so. His mom would probably drop me off and pick me up. A sweet gesture because I then feel safe and don’t have to deal with the taxis. However, that also means that I feel like I am 15 again and that I have to coordinate with my parents for every social event. Only this is worse because I’m not 15, I’m 22 and my “parent” is a woman that I hate to inconvenience and that I can barely speak to. His Aunts shudder at the thought of me doing anything by myself. What if I want to walk thirty minutes to their house by myself? It’s unacceptable. What if I want to walk ten minutes to a larger grocery store? It’s too dangerous. What if I want to wait fifteen minutes for Alvaro at a nearby Starbucks? Again, too dangerous, I am to wait in the car with them. Just as I have begun to overcome my fears of this strange, scary city, his Aunts jump in and tell me that what seems perfectly safe to me is simply, “too dangerous”. Even when I am feeling brave enough to embrace my independence, it is strictly forbidden.
If one more person tells me to “be patient, it will all work out,” I just might lose my mind. From what I have learned so far about Peru, being patient provides zero promises.
Obtaining my work visa has been an epic struggle. Thankfully it is now in Immigrations as I wait for my application to be approved. Getting it there was no easy task and I still don’t have it in my hand. I won’t scream victory until I am holding my card in my hand. Which is still anywhere from 3-6 weeks away.
I have now lived here for three and a half months and am better able to understand the reality of my expenses. After taking a closer look, there is no way for me to survive off my soon-to-be job with this particular institute. I had hoped that other Institutes would pay more, and they do, but only handful of soles, which is equivalent to, more or less, one American dollar.
I can’t look for other jobs because: a. I am still not able to legally work and b. I don’t speak fluent Spanish. I feel like I have been sentenced to work in an underpaid, under appreciated job as an English teacher for the rest of my time in Lima.
Teaching private students was both interesting and financially promising, that is, until most of my students decided they were “too busy” and started canceling all of their classes. A private teacher doesn’t make money if there isn’t a class. I went into Business Meghan mode and developed new payment and cancellation policies. These new policies were too late, all my students were long gone by then.
I can’t make friends my own age because the English speaking, 20-something year old, Expat community is small, if not simply limited to me. I need friends but then we have to speak Spanish. Which I could most likely handle at this point, but then comes to issue of transportation. I simply can’t move around in this city. If it’s not close enough to walk, I have to arrange a fleet of taxis to take me to dinner and frankly, just the thought of this arrangement makes me want to stay home.
Even if I decided to deal with the taxis and traffic and stress of going out without my own car, most likely Alvaro’s mom and Aunts would jump in before I could do so. His mom would probably drop me off and pick me up. A sweet gesture because I then feel safe and don’t have to deal with the taxis. However, that also means that I feel like I am 15 again and that I have to coordinate with my parents for every social event. Only this is worse because I’m not 15, I’m 22 and my “parent” is a woman that I hate to inconvenience and that I can barely speak to. His Aunts shudder at the thought of me doing anything by myself. What if I want to walk thirty minutes to their house by myself? It’s unacceptable. What if I want to walk ten minutes to a larger grocery store? It’s too dangerous. What if I want to wait fifteen minutes for Alvaro at a nearby Starbucks? Again, too dangerous, I am to wait in the car with them. Just as I have begun to overcome my fears of this strange, scary city, his Aunts jump in and tell me that what seems perfectly safe to me is simply, “too dangerous”. Even when I am feeling brave enough to embrace my independence, it is strictly forbidden.
If one more person tells me to “be patient, it will all work out,” I just might lose my mind. From what I have learned so far about Peru, being patient provides zero promises.
The Cheek Kiss
Thankfully, before I arrived in Lima, I had been properly warned about the traditional greeting and departing gesture: the cheek kiss. Though this warning was appreciated, I don’t think it could have prepared me for the onslaught of kissing that occurs and every social gathering in Lima.
At first it was just with Alvaro’s family, a simple cheek kiss to say hello and then again to say goodbye. Easy enough. It gets tricky, however, when a large group of people arrive at the same time and need to greet another large group of people. When Alvaro’s three aunts, cousin and grandfather arrive at his parent’s house they must greet Alvaro, his parents, his sister and me. Custom says that they must greet each of us with a traditional cheek kiss, which means there are almost thirty kisses. Unlike the United States, you can’t simply walk into the room and project a simple, “Hhheeeyyy!!!!” to everyone present.
The greater challenge? What if everyone is already sitting at the table when you come in? Well, then you must walk around the table individually kissing each person. If you are to leave early, you must do the same.Forget trying to sneak away unnoticed- it’s impossible in Peru. It’s also helpful to plan your exit about fifteen minutes before you actually have to leave because it will take that long to properly kiss everyone.
I find some benefits to this. For starters, I like that it is well known in Peru that you will only give one kiss. When I was in Germany, I was greeted by students from all over the globe, some of which came from cheek kissing countries. It was also a little game to try to discover if this person was going to go in for one or two cheek kisses. More than once I deftly dodged an almost very awkward meet-in-the-middle kiss from misjudging their customs. Secondly, it takes away the awkward how-well-do-I-know-this-person moment. You know the feeling. When you get ready to leave do you shake hands? Simply say goodbye? Go in for an awkward, maybe unexpected hug? In Peru, you kiss everyone, no questions asked.
The weirdest thing for me to adjust to is that you even cheek kiss complete strangers. A few times, Alvaro and I have been out and run into someone he knows. With Peruvian introductions a cheek kiss is just as common as a “nice to meet you”. I think that most American’s appreciate the 12-18 inches that a handshake separates them from this new stranger. In Peru, you’re up close and personal from Day One.
I’ve yet to figure out how this works in more delicate situations. What happens if you run into an ex? What about that girl from class that you always clash with? What if you are meeting because you’re in the middle of an argument? And how do you say goodbye after a breakup? For me, a cheek kiss is intimate, but maybe for Peruvians it is not.
And finally, the best part of this whole cheek kiss thing: usually the responsibility falls on the guy. So 50% of the time, I don’t have to worry, I just wait for them to make the move and it’s smooth sailing from there.
Culture Shock has arrived
Prior to departing for my semester abroad, I was giving a folder of information from the Belmont International Studies office. In that folder was a myriad of information regarding travel plans and insurance and dangers to be aware of for the student traveler. There also was an article on culture shock and how to deal with its symptoms. I, however, took no notice of that article.
I was very fortunate to experience very little culture shock during my semester abroad. I found small cultural differences to be quirky and sometimes annoying, but I never dealt with extreme feelings of insecurity, loss, homesickness or confusion. It’s safe to say that I have never truly experienced culture shock. Until now.
Before moving to Lima, I was prepared to face this mysterious idea of “culture shock” mostly because I had a small taste of it during my two week visit last July. Even then, I wasn’t able to recognize the symptoms. It wasn’t until my friend and Germany travel companion Erin very calmly said, “I think you’re experiencing culture shock,” that I began to see its effect. Now that I can label myself as an American expat living in Lima it’s safe to say that culture shock is in full swing.
Yesterday marked two months of being in Lima and I am well past the Honeymoon phase. Though I’m not sure I ever really was in that phase, mainly due to my July trip. Also, I’m in a relationship with a Peruvian, which means I have been exposed to wide range of Peruvian culture long before deciding to move here. The exact names of the phases vary according to the source, but I believe that I am now somewhere between the “negotiation” and “adjustment” phase.
A couple weeks ago I was right in the middle of the negotiations. Each day was a constant struggle between the Meghan that wants to be brave, learn Spanish and overcome my fears and the Meghan that wants to give up and return to the comfort of the United States. Even as I watched the two Meghans battle, I knew that the brave Meghan would win. Not necessarily because she’s brave, but because more than anything else, she’s stubborn.
And I was right, stubborn Meghan won and she’s now in the adjustment phase. One major factor of adjusting to life in a new culture is to develop a routine. Unfortunately, I do not yet have one. Due to circumstances out of my control, my employment has been delayed over and over and over again. I now have hope to begin work in mid-February. Until then, I need a routine. I’m thinking about developing a self imposed schedule consisting of time for errands, yoga, reading and deliberate Spanish practice. More than anything, my sanity can not handle four more weeks of my vacation lifestyle. I crave more meaningful accomplishments than finding a new recipe and vacuuming my apartment.
I have learned that culture shock is very real. It seems to me that the term can be thrown around in any number of circles, but when it has taken hold of you, it’s very, very real. I have started to notice small changes in my behavior that are a result of the simmering stress and anxiety that I have yet to claim. This stress has somehow seeped into subconscious and become a part of me, making me realize that it’s the kind of stress you don’t notice until it’s no longer there. It is my goal to confront that stress so that I can more easily adapt to Peruvian life.
The next phase in culture shock is the “mastery” phase. I look forward to that time when most people begin to experience a sense of “biculturalism,” adaptation and independence.
Here’s to my self imposed routine relieving my stress and Immigration employees who process my visa quickly.
I was very fortunate to experience very little culture shock during my semester abroad. I found small cultural differences to be quirky and sometimes annoying, but I never dealt with extreme feelings of insecurity, loss, homesickness or confusion. It’s safe to say that I have never truly experienced culture shock. Until now.
Before moving to Lima, I was prepared to face this mysterious idea of “culture shock” mostly because I had a small taste of it during my two week visit last July. Even then, I wasn’t able to recognize the symptoms. It wasn’t until my friend and Germany travel companion Erin very calmly said, “I think you’re experiencing culture shock,” that I began to see its effect. Now that I can label myself as an American expat living in Lima it’s safe to say that culture shock is in full swing.
Yesterday marked two months of being in Lima and I am well past the Honeymoon phase. Though I’m not sure I ever really was in that phase, mainly due to my July trip. Also, I’m in a relationship with a Peruvian, which means I have been exposed to wide range of Peruvian culture long before deciding to move here. The exact names of the phases vary according to the source, but I believe that I am now somewhere between the “negotiation” and “adjustment” phase.
A couple weeks ago I was right in the middle of the negotiations. Each day was a constant struggle between the Meghan that wants to be brave, learn Spanish and overcome my fears and the Meghan that wants to give up and return to the comfort of the United States. Even as I watched the two Meghans battle, I knew that the brave Meghan would win. Not necessarily because she’s brave, but because more than anything else, she’s stubborn.
And I was right, stubborn Meghan won and she’s now in the adjustment phase. One major factor of adjusting to life in a new culture is to develop a routine. Unfortunately, I do not yet have one. Due to circumstances out of my control, my employment has been delayed over and over and over again. I now have hope to begin work in mid-February. Until then, I need a routine. I’m thinking about developing a self imposed schedule consisting of time for errands, yoga, reading and deliberate Spanish practice. More than anything, my sanity can not handle four more weeks of my vacation lifestyle. I crave more meaningful accomplishments than finding a new recipe and vacuuming my apartment.
I have learned that culture shock is very real. It seems to me that the term can be thrown around in any number of circles, but when it has taken hold of you, it’s very, very real. I have started to notice small changes in my behavior that are a result of the simmering stress and anxiety that I have yet to claim. This stress has somehow seeped into subconscious and become a part of me, making me realize that it’s the kind of stress you don’t notice until it’s no longer there. It is my goal to confront that stress so that I can more easily adapt to Peruvian life.
The next phase in culture shock is the “mastery” phase. I look forward to that time when most people begin to experience a sense of “biculturalism,” adaptation and independence.
Here’s to my self imposed routine relieving my stress and Immigration employees who process my visa quickly.
Taxi, taxi!
Hailing a taxi in Peru is an adventure unlike any I have ever had before. To be fair, before my time in Lima, I don’t think I had even taken a taxi by myself. I remember a few taxi rides from my first trip to London when I was just a little ten year old, but of course, my dad was with my. During my time abroad, I mostly took other forms of public transportation: trams, trains, buses. The few occasions that I did take a taxi was due the to unbearable weight of all of my luggage and that was only to move from airports to hotels to dorms. Even then, myself and several other people all crammed into one taxi.
Unlike the bright yellow, easily distinguishable taxis on New York City, Lima’s taxis are much more subtle, usually the only identifiable symbol is their taxi number in yellow on the side and perhaps a light on top that reads “taxi”. Though New York City has an abundance of taxis, it is quite possible that Lima has more taxis per one hundred people than even the Big Apple.
And what about those fares! They are outrageous, sometimes several dollars just for stepping in the cab and then more than a few cents extra for each quarter mile and passing minute. In Lima, it’s all about the bargain. After hailing down a taxi, you tell the driver where you would like to go. He’ll usually tell you a price one or two soles above what it should be. At that moment, it is up to you to decide whether you want to bargain or simply get in the taxi. If the transaction doesn’t work out, the taxi driver then drives away, the pedestrian flags down another taxi and the process starts all over again. It’s usual to overcharge tourists, my light brown hair and American accent give me away, so Alvaro has kindly given me the appropriate fares for each of my destinations, I’ve been channeling my inner Peruvian and lately have been quite a successful bargainer.
The biggest rule of taking a taxi in Lima is always, always agree on the price before you get in. Otherwise you’ll end up paying a much larger fee once you reach your destination.
Favorite taxi moments so far:
Unlike the bright yellow, easily distinguishable taxis on New York City, Lima’s taxis are much more subtle, usually the only identifiable symbol is their taxi number in yellow on the side and perhaps a light on top that reads “taxi”. Though New York City has an abundance of taxis, it is quite possible that Lima has more taxis per one hundred people than even the Big Apple.
And what about those fares! They are outrageous, sometimes several dollars just for stepping in the cab and then more than a few cents extra for each quarter mile and passing minute. In Lima, it’s all about the bargain. After hailing down a taxi, you tell the driver where you would like to go. He’ll usually tell you a price one or two soles above what it should be. At that moment, it is up to you to decide whether you want to bargain or simply get in the taxi. If the transaction doesn’t work out, the taxi driver then drives away, the pedestrian flags down another taxi and the process starts all over again. It’s usual to overcharge tourists, my light brown hair and American accent give me away, so Alvaro has kindly given me the appropriate fares for each of my destinations, I’ve been channeling my inner Peruvian and lately have been quite a successful bargainer.
The biggest rule of taking a taxi in Lima is always, always agree on the price before you get in. Otherwise you’ll end up paying a much larger fee once you reach your destination.
Favorite taxi moments so far:
- The driver who called me “preciosa” as I got out of the cab. You can make the translation. Not necessarily my favorite moment, but it was nice to have Alvaro waiting for me on the sidewalk.
- After leaving lunch, two days ago Alvaro hailed a taxi for me. I sat down and immediately realized that the taxi driver looked like a Peruvian version of my dad’s brother! The resemblance was uncanny. And better yet, he was listening to the Micheal Bublé Christmas Album.
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