As you can see, my Spanish is coming along nicely. If not 100% grammatically correct, we at least can make ourselves understood, and we can now even go into a bar to hang with the locals.
Perhaps my example of a bar is a bit of a stretch, but “when
in Rome…..” or maybe it should be “when in Peru…..”
So here are the “back of the bar, liquor supplies”….
And here is the bartender…
The other patrons and their drink of choice. Just another pick-up joint….
And Ron with his first glass of chicha.
This was a chicha house.
A few select women in the villages around Peru, are the designated
chicha brewers. I’ll leave you to do
your own research as to technique, but suffice it to say that this is corn
beer, and takes 3 days from production to glass. When a batch is ready for quaffing, the brew
meister will put a bright red plastic bag on a long pole, extending from the
house into the street (in the past, it was a bunch of bright red flowers) to
let passersby know that the chicha is ready and on tap. We sat there with the woman and man of the
house for a few glasses, and they proceeded to laugh hysterically at us (or
WITH us, as I’d prefer to think of it).
Ron has declared that he’s not giving up his farourite pilsner in
exchange for chicha – he thought it was reminiscent of drinking out of a
silo. The photo above was taken BEFORE
the first sip – see that smile still on his face? Me, well, I mustered up the good manners to
finish off a glass without making too much of a face (or maybe that’s why they
were laughing so much).
No comments:
Post a Comment