Travel Writing in Peru: Archives

SARAH OSTMAN writes: Lima, like every city, has its share of graffiti. Bridges, walkways, run-down houses - everywhere you look, the city's is covered with somebody's late-night art project. Some of it's beautiful, some of it's dumb, and a surprising amount of it includes a depiction of male genitalia.

A lot of it also seems violent, mad, and a little bit twisted. I came across these three examples within a few blocks of Miraflores, one of Lima's richer neighborhoods that runs along the ocean.

This graffiti is a far cry from the Latin Kings symbols and scrawled initials that I see so often in Chicago. What I wouldn't give to know the story behind any one of them.

SARA OSTMAN writes: One of the things that jarred me most when I arrived in Lima was the constant presence of guards - many of whom are packing some serious heat. They stand, all day and all night, outside banks, supermarkets, government buildings, even schools and shoe stores.

And in wealthy Miraflores, the guardias are on constant watch on the sidewalks and rooftops of the already heavily-fortified homes.

A Peruvian friend named Ricardo told me the armed guards started popping up during the reign of the Shining Path, a Communist terrorist group that killed tens of thousands of Peruvians in the 1980s and '90s. Raids and car bombings became a constant reality in those years. As a teenager, Ricardo remembers jolting awake in the middle of the night to the sound a police car exploding outside.

The leader of the Shining Path was captured - and publicly displayed in a cage - in 1992; Peru has been much more peaceful since. But I can only imagine that kind of violence has made the people here a little desensitized to guns.

What I want to know is, at what point do these guards have the authority to open fire? If I steal 500 soles from the Vivanda Supermarket, can that guy in the greet suit gun me down? What about a loaf of bread?

I've been asking people. So far, nobody's known.