So Much Cooler Abroad: ¨En la lista¨ in Lima

Curious things happen while abroad. Sometimes you find yourself lost in the cultural jumble at the Claro phone store, scratching your head and wondering why you have to stand in three separate lines to buy a cell phone. Sometimes you find yourself unable to understand a word that comes out of the supermarket cashier´s mouth, despite seven years of Spanish classes.  And sometimes you find yourself ¨en la lista¨ (on the list) at one of the hottest clubs in the hippest district of Lima. 

My fortunate brush with exclusivity is thanks to four degrees of separation—a friend of a friend of a friend of a friend.  The mystery man that gets me into Peña del Carajo every week is named Clive. I´ve never met him, and I don´t have the slightest idea what he looks like. Until last night, I didn´t even know his name. But as I am pushing my way through the throngs of anxious club-goers outside the main doors each week, if someone mentions that I am ¨with Clive¨, I get motioned to the front of the line.

Wall art at Peña del Carajo, Barranco.

Those who know me at home would immediately recognize that Peña del Carajo, located in the nightlife hotbed district of Barranco, is too hip for me. By 11PM, the street outside the club is bumper-to-bumper taxi traffic; hundreds of college-aged Limeños push through the crowds in their coolest threads: off-the-shoulder sweaters and leather boots for the ladies, Abercrombie and Gino polos for the fellas.  There´s women selling big, sparkly earrings and men selling packs of cigarettes by the door; inside, there´s graffiti and Warhol-style paintings on the walls.  The music spins on into the wee hours of the morning—it´s suddenly 2, 3, or 4 am, well past the time when even after-hours bars shut their doors in U.S. cities. Yesterday, we saw an artist bring his easel onstage. There, in the midst of thumping music and crowds so thick you can barely swing a hip without bumping into someone, he completed an elaborate profile sketch.

It´s the kind of place I would never think to venture back home, opting instead for a house party or a dive bar.  Yet the unusual mix of salsa and reggaeton, eighties classics and top 40 is strangely satisfying at Peña del Carajo. It´s not that I´ve lost the identity I had before I moved abroad: when I return to Pittsburgh, I´ll probably find myself with the same habits and preferences.

Routine is comfortable, but the word ¨routine¨ itself implies a life played on repeat: nights out at the same bars in the same neighborhoods, having the same conversations. Ready for a new beat.