Yo No Soy Marinero, Soy Capitan

Wednesday was a national holiday honoring Santa Rosa de Lima, the first saint born in the New World and patron of Peru. Rosa is famous for her extreme penitence, from sleeping on a bed of broken glass, to wearing a crown of iron thorns, to rubbing acid on her face to avoid men's leering eyes. What better way to honor this woman than to cut work and go fishing.

Jeff and Diego Bandini insisted we go to Tip-Top, a bizarrely American restaurant in Miraflores for breakfast. First, I should mention Jeff's fascination with Tip-Top comes, in my opinion, from the mistaken impression that Tip-Top is some sort of Peruvian Denny's; a Denny's without breakfast, without all-night hours, and without the Moons Over My Hammy. I had a clasico burger, which in Peru apparently means a burger with relish and mustard and nothing else. It was good, I guess, but certainly no Denny's.

A short taxi ride to Chorrillos later, we're standing on a pier haggling rates with Julian, captain of the mighty Marina, a 15 foot fishing skiff. After some half-hearted bargaining, we hop into the Marina and paddle towards the jetty. Actually, Julian is doing all the paddling, and though the sea is fairly flat, Jeff nervously offers anti-nausea medication. I decline, but Diego and Jeff refuse to take any chances.

We're fishing with lengths of line wrapped around small blocks of wood because poles are for losers. Our bait, our live bait, are small creatures collected from the beach called muymuy, and though I'm told they are crabs, muymuy look exactly like giant fleas. Whatever they are, they don't entice the fish, as we go empty-handed by the jetty. Technically, I caught several rocks, so our time didn't go to waste.

I should mention that Diego got seasick and returned his Tip-Top to the briny deep, Jeff felt uneasy, and I was fine. So far, gastroesophageal junction 1, Lima 0.

Like usual, we all came back to Miraflores and sipped espressos by Parque Kennedy on a Wednesday afternoon. Self-employment sometimes works.