Walk at your own risk

It may not sound credible but in Lima pedestrians do not seem to have the right of way; motor vehicles do. So pay attention even though you may think you are a good multitasker (talk on the phone, read the paper and cross the street at the same time).
Lights at the corners do not assure anybody that cars will respect them carefully. Stop signs that warn us with their octagonal red presence can be perceived as complete corner decorations in this buzzing metropolis.
In this chaotic city, cars and buses drive with abandon. Of course, there are policemen and traffic lights but drivers approach the streets as being in a Formula One race. Lanes become just lines on the road; the fact that the road is divided in parts doesn’t mean that drivers will choose one of them. I have been in taxis when the whole road is empty and drivers go in the middle of two lanes. A road can be divided in four lanes and you may be in one of the seven (yes, seven) cars that want to share those four lanes across the road. Cars cut into each other with total sense of confidence and entitlement. An inch of space between cars is an accepted occurrence. You will feel your heart is pumping quite fast when you are at the mercy of your conductor.
Driving in a car in Lima can really man you up.
If someone cuts you off and you yell at the driver who did this, you’ll get immediately yelled back at. I heard a driver saying: “Lima is the only city in the world where the people who made a mistake while driving insult you.”
In this circus-like spectacle, pedestrians have to act with special care. Motorbikes, trucks or cars will try to get the right of pass without a second thought. While walking in the city you need to develop a seventh sense so you don’t get hit. Forget about the rules of the road in the U.S and you’ll be fine. (Video courtesy of Laura Nalin)

Negotiating your taxi ride

Taximeters are not a feature in taxi transportation in Lima. All fares are negotiable. Taxis will honk at you trying to get your attention. You can size them up before you accept their friendly invitation and see if the model, size or appearance fulfills your desires. They can be modern, old, ugly and uglier. Once you stop one, you ask something like: “How much is it from here to (your destination)?” The cab driver will size you up and say a price. If you feel it is on the “expensive” side you give a counter offer. He can get back at you with something in between and if you feel comfortable you just hop in. That simple. And there is no surcharge if there are more than two passengers. But always have change since drivers don't usually have change.
For U.S standards, taxis are very cheap in Lima. Three dollars can drive you two miles. Gasoline is more expensive than in the United States but these drivers work for very little. From what I have seen a lot of these drivers exercise this job when unemployed. A lot of them rent the cars from other people and work them in two shifts of 12 straight hours. I have also noticed some of these cars use natural gas instead of gasoline, which is cheaper and cleaner. And you don’t tip. It’s not customary. But beware of the ones who will notice you have an accent or look like a tourist. They will ask you for a higher price.

Run, Elio, run

Argentina claims to have the widest avenue in the world. Avenida 9 de julio —July 9, in honor to its independence day— is 460 feet wide. The “Obelisco,” a monument located in the middle, is a city landmark. White and tall, it resembles the Washington Monument in Washington D.C.
This avenue has 16 lanes, and it looks like a boulevard with benches, trees, flowerbeds and fountains. You can try to cross it in one attempt, but you won’t be able to do it merely by walking fast. The one-minute you have between light changes won’t be enough. I crossed it successfully but had to almost jog. A taxi driver told me that some old folks take a cab to go from one side to another.

Colorful fake money

In Buenos Aires, bills come in different colors and designs. Colors indicate the denomination and the quality of the paper helps you identify whether a bill is fake.
Despite using mostly buses and trains I couldn’t resist the occasional convenience of a taxi. But beware! Taxis are usually where you get counterfeit bills.
“It’s sad but taxis are the place where you get a false bill,” leather goods salesperson Marita told me when I shared my story. “Taxi drivers identify you as a tourist and they give you change with bad money.” Giovanna, an employee at a cashmere goods store at Florida Street, said “when you take a taxi, you pay with the exact amount, always.”
A friend and I took a taxi to go see a tango show and we paid with a 100-peso bill. All our change came back fake. In the dark and in the rush to arrive on time, I just placed the money in my wallet.
When the show was over, we took another taxi back home. When I paid the 12-peso fare with a 50-peso bill the driver held it up and said, “This is fake.” I was dumbfounded. I gave him another bill and his answer was the same. I didn’t know what to do, as he was getting uneasy. “That’s not my problem,” he said. I asked him to take us to an ATM to get money. My friend rushed to the ATM and came back with two 100-peso bills. I gave him one, as I was getting ready to exit the car. “I have no change for 100,” he said. I couldn’t believe it. By that time the meter showed more than 16 pesos.
“What do you suggest we do then?” I asked. “Give me whatever you have,” he responded immediately. I handed him seven pesos.
The day after, when I was shopping with that 100-peso bill, I realized the taxi driver had switched the ATM real bill for a fake one. “That’s a known practice,” Marita, the saleswoman, told me with a shy smile.

Taxi, taxi?

Taxis are expensive in Italy. With gasoline going for 1.45 euro (US$2.25) a liter (there are almost 4 liters in a gallon), I avoided taxis and took them only from and to the airport. Just the flag fall is 4.25 euro (U.S. $6.60).
When you need a taxi, you call a cab company. Trying to set my departure from Florence, I called the cab company the evening before because I had heard from a colleague that taxi companies wouldn’t take reservations days in advance. The operator told me: “We are 24 hours [sic]; call tomorrow.”
The next day, one hour prior to the time I needed an airport taxi, I called again. Before I could explain anything, the operator said: “It will be there in 3 minutes.” When I said I needed it within an hour, he told me to call back when I was ready. I was getting a little worried I wouldn’t make it on time.
After rushing around and triple-checking that I wasn’t leaving anything behind, I called back.
“It will be there in 5 minutes,” he said. Three minutes later, I saw a taxi waiting on the street.
The driver was a middle-aged man, easy to talk to, but only in Italian. I am so glad I am able to make myself understand in that language.
He started the conversation by asking where I was going: “Parigi,” I responded, and from there, we didn’t stop talking until we got to the airport. He introduced himself as Matteo and asked me if I was going to come back to Florence. “Maybe next year,” I said. To my surprise, he said: “I’ll give you my address and next time you stay with us.”
He meant what he said. Hiding my surprise, I thanked him and paid my 23-euro ride that took 15 minutes.

I want to ride my bicycle

During the first two weeks of class I walked to the school. It took me 20 minutes to navigate through people, vendors, dogs and different kinds or means of transportation in those diagonal, zig-zaggy, narrow Florence streets.
All that walking really kept the weight off from all those cheeses, pastas and delicious breads.
Last Friday I decided to ride the bike my landlady had loaned me. Somehow scared about the traffic I decided to give it a try. All of a sudden I identified more with the city.
Florentines walk and ride their bikes everywhere: school, work, the supermarket. You can see people from all ages moving on two wheels, day and night.
“Just look for a post and lock the bike,” Marta, the landlady told me. “It won’t be stolen; it’s an old bike,” she added.
Now I go to the school and the supermarket by bike. There is a little problem though: to find parking, I mean a post, since there are bikes everywhere.