ambuvendores

Sort of in conjunction with my last post, I would like to highlight an unavoidable phenomenon in Lima: people wanting to sell you stuff. Everywhere!
Those studying micro-economics would have a ball here because of an almost absurd amount of people with small businesses or simply a backpack filled with candy that they sell on the buss. Today I took some time to jot down all the kinds of products sold by street vendors I've seen in my time here. The abridged version of this list only includes vendors who have no carts or trollies in which they display their merchandise.

Most commonly you will see people of all ages stepping on the bus, first introducing themselves with a very sad story about how fate has left them with many children, a sick mother, or jobless because of the government's vicious hand striking down on their previous place of employment. Afterwards they reach into their bags and produce some "turrones arequipeños" (candy bars), "caramelos de cafe" (coffee flavored toffees), or "chicles de varios sabores" (chewing gum of various flavors) for 50 or 10 centimos each. They will pass by each seat to ask for some support.

Similar types of vendors on the bus will offer peanuts and raisins, slices of homemade strawberry pie, churros, ice cream, sodas and water, newspapers or even highlighter pens. Some step on, dressed up as clowns and perform jokes and magic tricks, others carry their guitars, cajones, and/or flutes and will perform a few songs for the--most of the time annoyed-looking--passengers.

In places like Gamarra, individuals will stand on the side of the road holding cellphones and screaming "llamadas por un sol!" offering phone calls. If you walk around that place in sneakers, there is a high chance that a somebody will come by with a little sponge and polish to start cleaning one of your shoes. He will continue to do so even if you tell him no. If you don't pay him 50 centimos, you will walk around looking like a loser having one clean and one dirty shoe.

While walking around, I've come across andean women selling their hand-knit socks and scarves on the side of the road, old men selling knives, watches, sunglasses, table china, and home-made sandwiches out of a little hand cooler. On almost every block you will find a young man carrying a little shoe polish contraption, offering their shoe shine services to newspaper-reading businessmen.

When I am at home I hear the obnoxious haaaaaaaaaaaooooooonk quack sound coming from the bread man's tooting horn in the morning, and the high pitched pentatonic scale from the plastic pan flute of the "tio" with the knife sharpener that he rolls down the street in the afternoons. About once a week, a man will knock on our door asking if he can clean my housemates' car for them. He usually charges 3 soles and does a fine job.

And sometimes, when I'm lucky, I come across some really nifty business schemes:
Somebody may sit on the side of the road with a scale in front of her, charging you money to weigh yourself. My favorite find to this day, however, has to be this middle aged man I discovered standing on the corner of a busy intersection in Pueblo Libre, holding a body-sized mirror. As people walked by it, he would offer them a longer look at their reflection for fifty centimos. Now here's a man who understands the human mind!