In 1989, my husband Fred and I spent six weeks in Lima, Peru, to adopt our son. We stayed at first in a Suite hotel and then in an apartment in an average neighborhood while the family who lived there (American Maryknoll lay missionaries) went to the US to see their family.
Inflation at that time was 1000% annually. There were no coins in circulation.
I loved the bicycle-powered vendors on the street—one had a big plexiglass box on the back with bread and rolls to sell. To buy bottled pop or beer, one had to bring empties back to the grocery store. So one vendor went up and down the street, yelling at the top of his voice, “Botella, Botella.” He would buy and sell empties.
It is always cloudy in Lima in their winter (we were there end of June to early August), but with a detailed street map and a compas we were able to navigate. It was the third visit to the hospital before we could take the baby away with us. Right then we were fully in charge of the little guy, although it took six weeks to finalize everything.