What Happened

We got stuck in Peru at the start of the pandemic. Below is our Lima-rick and Epic Saga. Enjoy!

The Ballad of Paula and Doug (the Lima-rick)

There once was a pair in Peru
Who didn't know what they should do
To stay or to go
They just didn't know
It's hard when you don't have a clue

And so down in Lima they were stuck
And right as it started to suck
The Mormons came by
And offered to fly
Our asses back home - Oh, what luck!

Timing is crucial they say
We discover this truth every day
Right place and right time
With reason and rhyme
And things often turn out OK

That's the Ballad of Paula and Doug
Hope your heart feels the tiniest tug
What we learned on our trip
Was to let some things slip
The fine art of not giving a fug

In non-limerick form, the Epic Saga!

We booked our big South America trip 18 months ago and put a lot of money down on it – trip of a lifetime! It was for 5 weeks and included a cruise around the coast of much of South America. Before the cruise, we started with a week around Machu Picchu and after the cruise we would visit Buenos Aires, Iguazu Falls, Rio, the Amazon. We left March 9 after I repeatedly bugged my travel agents for updates. At that time, they all assured us that everything was going to plan, that South America was the least impacted continent and that the ship was taking extraordinary measures, etc. So, we went for it.

The first few days we were up in the Peruvian Highlands (spectacular) and everything was going well. Peru had only 30 known cases out of 32 million people and Latin Americans are pretty relaxed (until they're not. They swing from gentle, yielding, friendly to militaristic and heavy-handed in an instant). Then, the afternoon of Friday 13 everything started to collapse. This was two days before the cruise. I got an email saying that Peru has closed all its ports and the cruise was cancelled. S**t, I thought. But then they offered a 150% credit (sweet!) and we thought, OK, we'll do the Brazil bit and then maybe the Buenos Aires part and we'll do the cruise next year. Our travel agents looked into it and the airline change fees were ridiculous. Then they started hearing more and more bad news and finally strongly advised us to get the heck out of Dodge ASAP.

They worked hard and found a flight out for us on Tuesday, March 17. So, we flew from Cusco to Lima and I booked an apartment (good thing I did). We went out to dinner on Sunday night and there was a TV on; we noticed the program was interrupted and a very serious-looking press conference was taking place. Not being terribly fluent in Spanish (took French), we had no idea that this was the President announcing that Peru was closing all its borders - land, sea, air - effective as of midnight on Monday, March 16. If you couldn't get out by then, you were subject to a mandatory 15-day quarantine. We only found this out when we woke up Monday morning to a ton of messages from our agents. They tried everything but it was total chaos, with thousands of people trying to find flights on that Monday and the military blocking most access to the airport. At one point, I found a flight to Chile and I thought we could stay there for a bit and then fly back from Santiago. Then we found out that Chile was closing all its borders. Then Brazil, Bolivia, Argentina, so forth - like dominos. We were hosed.

It’s pretty tough in Peru for some. As we were leaving our hotel in Cusco, we received a letter to all rooms saying that if you're from Europe or Asia you can't leave the hotel and have to stay in your room. These rooms were small (former nunnery) with no windows. And, the rack rate was over $300/night. That adds up fast. We escaped that mousetrap just in the nick of time. Plus, Cusco is at 11K+ feet above sea level and I was gasping for air. At the airport, I saw a long line of glum Chinese being led out to a waiting bus. Apparently, some military bases were being used to house people. That would be no fun. We’d been hearing stories of people stuck in the Amazon, in small rural towns with no supplies, even people in our nice neighborhood in Lima (Miraflores) staying in very low-rent and crowded hostels. Police were being pretty aggressive at times - arresting 8000 people for curfew violations, etc. We kept our heads down and tried to be good guests. We were resigned to staying in our apartment until March 31, and our travel agents found a flight out for us on April 1.

We definitely lucked out by my having booked an apartment. It had everything we needed (kitchen, laundry, space) and was relatively cheap. Our travel agents had originally booked us into a standard hotel, but those small rooms would have driven me up a wall. Our apartment had a balcony and two bedrooms and like I say, is in a great neighborhood. We managed to snag two floor fans and the weather improved (it was late summer / early fall down there). Best of all, our agent stepped in and picked up the tab for our stay. They felt bad that they couldn't get us out. Love these guys - South America Travel.

So, as it finally worked out, Paula & I had a free three-week “virus vacation” in Lima, Peru. It was weird though. A ghost town. Everything except food stores and pharmacies are closed - no restaurants, bars, stores, attractions. Kind of a Twilight Zone. There are cops and military everywhere and they patrol the streets. We occasionally got some attitude, but if we were careful, we had some range of movement.

However, in the beginning of April, the Peruvian government started to get more and more restrictive. Without much warning, they extended the lockdown for another 2 weeks – to April 12. Our April 1 flight out? -- Cancelled. The curfew got stricter - only women out on Tues Thurs Sat – men on Mon Weds Fri – NOBODY out on Sunday. We’ve since read that they’ve closed the city down, basically, between Palm Sunday and Easter. Can’t even get food. No restaurants were doing takeout or delivery. Curfew started at 8PM, then 6PM then 4PM then 2PM in some places. Military checkpoints everywhere with serious Peruvians with guns checking your papers. My first experience with martial law! I don’t like it, turns out.

We started to feel pretty uncomfortable. Plus, the US Embassy was overwhelmed with all the Americans stuck in every part of Peru. The Peruvian government was not allowing inter-city travel so some of these people were trapped in rural areas with no way in to an airport. Also, we heard of one hostel that reported a Covid-19 case and EVERYBODY in the whole place was locked in for an indefinite period. We kept seeing more and more messages from the Embassy and Mike Pompeo and even Marco Rubio that they didn’t know how much longer they could allow repatriation flights. As it was, the government would only let one or two flights out a day and that was decided on a day-to-day basis. We seemed to be pawns in a game between the governments where Peru may have been negotiating for US assistance in their repatriation efforts.

The greatest frustration was the lack of clear information. The combination of the governmental incompetence (our State department has been gutted, their government is impenetrable and heavy-handed) and the impossibility of actually speaking to someone who knew anything was immensely frustrating. We were reaching out to Diane Feinstein and Jared Huffman and anybody we could think of. Nobody knew anything.

We finally got nervous enough about getting out that I insisted we go in person to the American Embassy and try to get some definitive answers. We did this on Friday, April 3. It was really nice to see so many helpful and friendly Americans and everybody seemed to be doing the best they could under the circumstances. As you know, it’s been very frustrating not being able to call someone and get a definitive answer – and that’s all anybody wanted. The embassy staff weren’t even able to help us that much when we got there, as they only had lists for the flight that day. So, we went to the end of a very long line and waited in the hot sun for 3+ hours. It wasn’t too bad as everybody wanted to talk – having been cooped up for so long – so the time passed quickly.

When we finally got to the processing stations we somehow lucked into a guy who, while writing our information down (this would make it our 5th registration, I think), mentioned that the Church of Latter Day Saints was flying out a bunch of missionaries on Saturday morning, April 4, and that they might have some open seats. Would we be interested? “Sure,” we said, “how much?” “Oh, it’s free to you.” As we blinked in astonishment, I told them I’d convert if need be.

We held our breath for a few hours and then got THE CALL confirming the flight. I gushed our thanks to the nice lady and then asked, what next? She said to watch for a confirmation email. Well, the next few hours were agonizing as the email didn’t come and didn’t come. What should we do? Fortunately, I had memorized the address of the meeting place, which was way out in the Callao district near Lima. The meeting time was 6:30AM (ugh) but I thought we’d just take a chance and pack up, and settle with the apartment, and take an Uber, and take our chances. We didn’t have a clue what we’d do if we weren’t on the flight manifest. Fortunately, late that evening the email arrived and we felt weak with relief.

So, the next morning we woke up at Dark O’Clock and hustled out to the Uber and down to the meeting place. We passed through a half-dozen military checkpoints (camo, weapons, papers) and finally got to the meeting place with the Mormon missionaries. I’ve never been happier to see young men in white shirts and ties. Then, we were all loaded into buses taking us to the military air base. It was a long, long process involving a lot of military personnel and drug-sniffing dogs and lots of waiting, but after a couple of hours we got on the plane, and eventually landed in Salt Lake City around 8PM that evening. We found a nice hotel for the night – it was odd to see the city like this – hushed and deserted.

So, our LDS flight was doubly fortunate. Mainly it was FREE but also it brought us to Salt Lake City instead of Washington DC, which is where the Embassy flights landed. The State Dept. was charging Americans $800-1000 a ticket (you had to sign a promissory note before being allowed on the flight). We would have had to stay overnight, and then book a flight on your own to your home destination; we were prepared to pay that to get out. Anyway, thankfully, we were almost as close as you could be outside of California. I had checked the airline options the night before and found a very reasonable $99 non-stop flight to SFO. I didn’t book it as I wasn’t 100% sure of our timing. The next day I checked on that flight and the price had increased to $306 with substantial baggage fees. (I guess the airlines are cutting way back on flights and raising the prices a lot.)

So, another obstacle. Fortunately, the car rental companies are slashing their rates and we found a totally amazing deal - $31/day for a luxury rental car with no drop-off charges! We drove out of there in a gorgeous BMW SUV that was a dream to drive across the desert. We arrived at Reno in the early evening and checked into a hotel to rest before the last part of our wild adventure.

And then -- of course -- we woke up to find snow on the ground and the I-80 pass almost closed. There had been a winter storm. Great – yet another obstacle. Fortunately, by now, we’d become good at waiting in a state of uncertainty (although I was getting kind of OCD, checking the weather and travel conditions every 5 minutes). And then -- sure enough -- the sun came out and the snow and ice melted enough for normal traffic. We raced out around 11AM since another storm was due in a few hours. Our window of opportunity! We managed to get home in about 3.5 hours, to our immense relief.

Home Sweet Home. And California is so beautiful! Esp. with Spring just exploding after all the rain. We were awestruck as we drove into the Bay Area and Marin. Our wonderful house and wonderful beds and all the necessary stores open. No military checkpoints or curfews. Great television - in English. Ah, America!

That’s our story. We’ve found that the hardest trips yield the best stories … and this was a hard trip.