I awoke at 07:30 hrs. but lay in bed reading until 09:00 hrs. Then I went out into a blazing hot morning to get breakfast. I chose Ego’s Restaurant on the Plaza de Armas, with outside tables under the arches which opened out onto the square.
The Military Police in their white helmets staked out the Plaza while I demolished two greasy fried eggs and some milky Columbian coffee. This was in preparation for a big army parade which would culminate in the raising of the Peruvian flag in the centre of the square.
A big crowd gathered on the steps of the big church to watch the parade. A street market was being set up along the main drag selling the usual array of cheap, and mainly nasty, clothes. It was really hot already, so I went back to my room to change into my shorts and sit under the ceiling fan.
Later I decided to see if the Post Office was open. Surprisingly it was so I went to look for a shop selling postcards. All the shops were open except the Liberias, which the townsfolk assured me were the only vendors of postcards. Even the posh tourist hotel on the square didn’t have any.
At the hotel I met Simon, an Englishman who I had directed to the Hostal Florián yesterday, coming out. We went for a Coca Cola in a café around the corner. He had come up from Argentina by motorbike and was continuing north. Unfortunately, his bike had broken down in Lima so he had arranged to have it transported by truck to Tumbes and had taken the 26-hour TEPSA bus from Lima, arriving here yesterday at 17:00 hrs.
We went for a walk along the main drag and through the narrow laned, low roofed market with the usual food and clothing for sale. We finished up at a café on the Plaza de Armas (the same one that I had had breakfast in) drinking Coca Cola, then beer and chatting.
At 12:30 hrs. I packed my bags and moved them into Simon’s room as check-out time was 13:00 hrs. This aroused the suspicion of the receptionist who thought we were trying to sneak two of us into a single room.
We then went out to the garage that Simon had given as the destination for his motorcycle. It had not arrived yet so we popped into a clean open-fronted café with an efficient collection of fans whirring away. Here we drank Inca Kola, a yellow fizzy pop which tasted of cream soda.
Inca Kola (also known as "the Golden Kola" in international advertising) is a soft drink that was created in Peru in 1935 by British immigrant Joseph Robinson Lindley. The soda has a sweet, fruity flavour that somewhat resembles its main ingredient, lemon verbena (verbena de Indias, hierbaluisa or cedrón in Spanish). Aloysia citrodora, lemon verbena, is a species of flowering plant in the verbena family Verbenaceae, native to South America.
Americans compare its flavour to bubblegum or cream soda. Sometimes categorized as a champagne cola, it has been described as "an acquired taste" whose "intense colour alone is enough to drive away the uninitiated."
The Coca-Cola Company owns the Inca Kola trademark everywhere but in Peru. In Peru, the Inca Kola trademark is owned by Corporación Inca Kola Perú S.A., which since 1999 is a joint venture between The Coca-Cola Company and the Lindley family, former sole owners of Corporación Inca Kola Perú S.A. and Corporación Lindley S.A.
Inca Kola is a source of national pride and patriotism in Peru, a national icon. Inca Kola is available in parts of South America, North America and Europe, and while it has not enjoyed major success outside Peru, it can be found in Latin American specialty shops worldwide. Inca Kola is sold in bottles and cans and has an Inca motif.
We then went back to Simon’s room, and I underlined recommended places for him to stay in Ecuador in his South American Handbook 1987, which cost him $40 U.S. dollars in South America. At 16:00 hrs. I went across the road to wait outside the El Dorado Bus Office.
An efficient comfortable Scania coach pulled up. A Peruvian couple bargained for a “good” rate of exchange for U.S. dollars on my behalf with an unseen woman at a window above us. I checked my rucksack into the side boot and jumped aboard the red bus which set off at about 17:00 hrs.
The bus crossed the bridge out of town, and we roared along a decent coastal road. The Pacific Ocean was just on our right and to the left were desiccated sandy hills and cracked dry earth.
At dusk we stopped at a Customs check point. A line of stalls waited for their captive customers. We had to wait while the bus was searched by two tubby Customs men in black T-shirts. The other passengers reported to a hut for a bag search, but I was waved away.
There was a magnificent sunset over the sea as I waited by the coach. Back on the road the soldier sitting next to me gave me some biscuits and fried banana chips, and the couple across the aisle gave us fizzy orange drink. This I consumed with gusto, breaking the golden rule for travellers, “never accept food or drink from strangers, it may be drugged”. Luckily, they were just being friendly and it was O.K.
I dozed off with my seat reclined as we cruised into the night, awaking for a Coca Cola at a roadside café stop at 22:00 hrs.
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