It is hard for me to not see the contrasts that continue across South America. Where chaos and filth ends, tranquility begins. In one hour in Lima, I witnessed the migration of humanity shift from those on the edge of survival, cold and hungry, and then into luxury, where time stood still and comforts were afforded to those who could afford it.

I started my week in Lima in the popular area of Miraflores, it is easily the safest and the most approachable place for tourists to feel incubated. You will find Parque Kennedy, high-end restaurants, and endless commercial and local shops in plenty. I noticed there were a handful of high-rises home to co-working spaces as well, making this an accessible place for nomadic freelancers. On my first day, I convinced the peeps over at We-Work to host me for the day so I could get some work done away from the temptation of the street life. Perched up on their 10th floor where mostly local employees worked was a sparkling open-office space clad with beer and coffee on tap, decadent avocado toast served up every hour, and expansive views of the city below. I hunched over my laptop for 7 hours, doing the freelance writing dance and getting a head-start on a few projects that I new could get overlooked by new travel experiences. The space was decorated with black and white stills of llamas and alpacas in the foothills, steel bins of flora and fauna and concrete and pine wood interiors for a very Instagrammable setting. Despite these comforts that my own privilege afforded to me, I decided that my preference for work is hunched in between tables at a café with a street view over being in a tower looming over the daily grind of the Peruvians. Nonetheless, Miraflores is an excellent place to start exploring the city as you have access to tour guides, historical landmarks and iglesias and fantastic eateries. But please don’t stop there.

Barranco 

If you are itching to get out of the tourist trap, I highly recommend stepping next door to Barranco on the edge of Miraflores. I discovered it by accident after deciding to go visit the MAC, Museum of Contemporary Art. I was greeted with a barrio beaming with striking colonial architecture, newly-opened pubs, artists markets, and a few museums worth noting. Although many of the colonial homes donning pastel blue and pink tones were abandoned due to lack of money to renovate them, there was a historical charm here mixed with early signs of development and growth. Talk to me in 10 years, and I think Barranco will be the Venice Beach of Lima. I ate fresh fruit sold by the indigenous women in gorgeous garb, traditional to the farmlands of Peru, and walked my way through art galleries and flowering parks with stone fountains. I discovered the MATE, Mario Testino Museum, which is home to some of the iconic fashion photographer’s best work. I have been flipping through his editorial fashion spreads for years in Vogue and Vanity Fair, unaware that he is from Peru. Highly-saturated photos of Lady Gaga and Kate Moss were blown up to cover entire walls, like a fashion-porn paint job. Testino is known for his group imagery featuring dolled up models dancing through crowds and capturing candid shots of the world’s most famous faces. I walked through the halls with wide eyes, drinking in the colors and beauty of near perfect humans in their svelte skin. Making my way to the second floor would reveal a series of Princess Diana photographs in her delicate yet striking demeanor as well as a white gown she once wore. Her moviestar smile held a tangible warmth that I didn’t find with any of the supermodels in Testino’s work in Hollywood.

The final exhibit was his images of Peruvians from a special celebration in Cusco, titled “Alta Moda” or high-fashion. Referencing the altitude of the famous city and the traditional wardrobe of his ancestors whose embroidered and elaborate design-work would rival many current textiles. I was taken aback by the shots, I stood mesmerized. Slack-jawed, I waited until I saw every image before going back and snapping some shots of my own for documentation. Colors more vivid than the last burst from caramel-colored and sun-splashed faces with almond-shaped eyes that told a story I was eager to unfold. If you ever get the chance to see his work from this project, it is worth your time. It is the intersection of modern technology capturing the richness of Peruvian textiles the people are so widely celebrated for. Back on foot and high on a visual journey, I headed down the block to see what other treasures were waiting for me. Barranca is just a stone’s throw from the steep peeks above the Pacific Ocean and is far less commercial than its neighbor, so much quieter in fact that I stopped by a 3-story gin bar that had recently opened. It was gorgeous but completely empty. They were serving looks of gilded decor from the1920’s era mixed with modern industrial elements and had a wall of alcohol more impressive than any other I had seen. Cozy residential areas were flanked by prestigious office buildings and rugged alleyways led to humble abodes connecting college students and the elderly in the same line of sight. The thought crossed my mind that I could live here for a season, summer for sure, and really sink into this up-and-coming area, pre-gentrification.

The Historic City Center

Heading to the Plaza de Armas is a must for any visitor to the city, as it was once the historical center when the Spanish reigned. There are many large history museums and landmarks if you are interested in religious art and the history of the city. It is also home to rows and rows of storefronts where cheap shoes, Nike knock-offs, and jewelry are sold by the bushel. But that is new Lima, the old Lima is marred by the conquistador’s profound mark on the city, turning it into a replica of their homeland with towering stone cathedrals for the royalty and paving the land in cobblestone. I couldn’t help but feel the weight of this reality on my heart. Yes, the grandiosity and baroque architecture is impressive, but at what cost to the native people who inhabited the land before? I look up at these beautiful buildings as merely a veneer for the bloodshed and sacrifice that came before them. Beneath the shadow of these landmarks are many people selling in the streets. I caught eyes with a young artist promoting his work and we proceeded to walk side-by-side while he showed me his leather-bound portfolio full of paintings of the ancient Incan culture that he holds close to his heart. He led me to the iglesia where I took a tour of the oldest church in Lima from the 14th-century and walked the skull-filled catacombs where thousands of Peruvians were laid to rest.

 Magdalena del Mar

My last few days in Lima were spent far from the destination spots and instead in a rough-around-the-edges barrio where I didn’t spot another tourist for days. My Airbnb in Magdalena del Mar was hosted by a beautiful Peruvian woman whose sparkling apartment was a much-needed upgrade from the last. I ate breakfast with her each morning as she hosted me with careful attendance and her delicious home-brewed coffee. She told me all about her family, spread across the world, from Chicago to Chile. She was open with me, like we were old friends re-visiting a familiar relationship. Outside of her home was a crowded and bustling barrio where I discovered the all-inclusive marketplaces unseen in Miraflores. Raw naked chickens are splayed with their legs wide and stuffed with tomates and herbs. Royal red carpets and drapes hang across the narrow walkway where short and wide women are selling bundles of yarn that span the rainbow. Broken telephones and rusted wires in piles are where elderly men run their repair shops. These junk piles look similar to my Grandpa Joe’s basement, where heaps of busted electronics and frayed cables that appeared to be trash to me and were his own secret ingredient to man’s next great invention. Adjacent to this repair shop is a glass cabinet brimming with perfectly decorated cakes and pies, postres with iced toppings and garnished with fruit. A juxtaposition I appreciate so much. I hustle through the crowds, looking for a pace but there is none. People stroll, rush, push and loiter all in the same flow of movement. There is nowhere for the smell of raw meat to go, so it goes with me. And I can’t un-smell it, so, I join in and embrace the salty reek of innards just like my aunt Jody always taught me to. “Not everything worth writing about has to be pretty, Liv,” I can hear her say as she sucks in the Malibu salt air filled with pelican poop and rotting seaweed. My laptop bag brushes the tops of the locals short shoulders as I try to make myself skinny, smaller, more blendy. It’s not working. A woman approaches me with a bucket of chocolate and I hand her 5 pesos with my other hand over my heart and she does the trinity looking right into my eyes. This encounter reminds me that I have yet to see someone asking for money get turned down by anyone. But here they feel less like homeless beggars and more like your neighbors who happen to be down and out, as if they have lost something important that they once had.

San Miguel

I stumbled into this coastal area as I was on my daily 5-mile walk to see how much ground I could cover in one afternoon. San Miguel is a residential and commercial area for the locals, a bit breathier with more walking space and a boardwalk that followed the spine of the cliffs. It is a cultural landmark as well with many archeological sites and Universities. I walked past families binging on ice cream and walking their dogs as the Sunday sun shifted westward over the blue ocean. Boys in black flocked to the skatepark where a statue of John Lennon stood proud. The cliff-sides of Lima are much like the ones in Santa Monica, Calif., they are dusty brown covered in netting and vines and difficult to build on. But the city here has taken measures to connect the people above to the beaches below through beautiful concrete walkways lined with potted plants and lookout points. On the vast and barren beaches is a massive development being built with dirt bike parks, skating arenas and even a shopping mall. Despite the aged buildings and dingy hotels, this part of the city seemed to be evolving into more of a destination spot. Like Barranco, in 10 years time I am sure this will be a happening spot with more refined edges.

Overall, I would say that staying outside of the more expected spots in Lima was a highlight of my time there. For me, seeing more of the real life is necessary. I don’t want to write from the same perspective as every other blogger and I surely don’t want to see the same five landmarks repeatedly hashtagged on IG. On my last morning in Lima before jetting to Paracas, I sipped cafe with my airbnb host and we talked about how tired she was from giving so much to her family, to her sick mother and to the many animals she has rescued. She didn’t have anyone showing up for her and her body hurt because of it, she told me this as she cried over her toast at the table. Before I departed her home, I left a large chunk of cheese in the fridge for her karaoke party she was hosting that weekend and my yoga business card telling her to call me anytime if she needed exercises to help relieve her back and neck pain. As I folded into my taxi headed to the bus stop, I heard the tiny silver keychain she made me clink against my water bottle just before slamming the door shut.