18.27.
At this time on certain days, Lima is drowned in ephemeral twilight. Viewed from our living room window, the sandy mountains in the South and East appear from the haze that has occluded them all day, and they make a magnificent violet and fuchsia backdrop to the high-rise buildings in San Isidro and Miraflores, the last rays of sunshine reflected in a few windows. The dome of the cathedral in Avenida de Sucre and the park two blocks away from our home hint at what the city looked like before it became a metropolis.
These are the fifteen minutes before Lima lights up for the evening; the neon lights of pharmacies, supermarkets, casinos, bars and pay-per-hour hostels, the street lamps and the statues of Jesus and the Virgin in the parks, the radio masts all over Lima and flight surveillance equipment in Ventanilla, the port lights and ships of La Punta and Callao. The heat becomes bearable with the last afternoon breeze, before the chilly evening wind brings with it the raw smell of ocean from the West. The cacophony of children, dogs and ice cream vendors with their duck lure pipes in the street dies away, the semi-public buses pass less frequently and stop advertising their destinations with such fervency. Some days even the sound of traffic is reduced around this time, and does not pick up again for a while. It is as if the city takes a long, deep breath before switching into night mode.
They are my favourite 15 minutes.
At this time on certain days, Lima is drowned in ephemeral twilight. Viewed from our living room window, the sandy mountains in the South and East appear from the haze that has occluded them all day, and they make a magnificent violet and fuchsia backdrop to the high-rise buildings in San Isidro and Miraflores, the last rays of sunshine reflected in a few windows. The dome of the cathedral in Avenida de Sucre and the park two blocks away from our home hint at what the city looked like before it became a metropolis.
These are the fifteen minutes before Lima lights up for the evening; the neon lights of pharmacies, supermarkets, casinos, bars and pay-per-hour hostels, the street lamps and the statues of Jesus and the Virgin in the parks, the radio masts all over Lima and flight surveillance equipment in Ventanilla, the port lights and ships of La Punta and Callao. The heat becomes bearable with the last afternoon breeze, before the chilly evening wind brings with it the raw smell of ocean from the West. The cacophony of children, dogs and ice cream vendors with their duck lure pipes in the street dies away, the semi-public buses pass less frequently and stop advertising their destinations with such fervency. Some days even the sound of traffic is reduced around this time, and does not pick up again for a while. It is as if the city takes a long, deep breath before switching into night mode.
They are my favourite 15 minutes.
