News

Peruvian Chopping Expedition
The shopping's great in Peru again now that the government has freed hostages from the Japanese ambassador's residence, according to a press release from the San Francisco Peruvian Consulate. In honor of the commando raid, code-named "Chavin de Huantar," the consulate recommends that tourists visit the Chavin de Huantar pre-Hispanic ruins 240 miles south of Lima.

"The energy of the past, magic, the creative coexistence between man and nature, respect for mankind and the greatness of its landscape, all make Chavin de Huantar a precious jewel of Peru," the PR piece says.

It may not be the best place to celebrate respect for mankind these days, given unfolding news accounts that Peruvian agents machine-gunned some rebel kidnappers as they begged for mercy, hauled off and gave coup de grace shots to the heads of others, and decapitated and cut the arms off still others.

But the ruins provide a great place to sightsee, with pyramids, sculpture-filled caves, and nearby natural spas.

San Francisco Peruvian Commerce Attache Carlos Alvarez, who drafted the release, says he hopes to strengthen cultural and economic bonds between Peru and the Bay Area through increased tourism. "We think that San Francisco is an important center," he says.

For its part, SF Weekly advises tourists to avoid the November through March rainy season when visiting Chavin de Huantar. And whatever they do, they should not run afoul of the law.

-- Matt Smith

Killer Brollies on the Waterfront
A happy scene on a recent weekday afternoon at the Ferry Plaza: A gaggle of tipsy English tourists chatters away at Gabbiano's Restaurant and Oyster Cafe, drinking expensive champagne, and posing for pictures with homeless cart-pushers. ("Oh darling, stay upwind from that trolley.") At a nearby table, an old friend and I catch up over iced tea, shaded by a huge umbrella on a metal stand.

Suddenly, the bucolic afternoon turns deadly.
A rogue wharf wind whips the umbrella out of its socket in the middle of the table, shooting it straight up into the air about 10 feet. The wind twirls the approximately 10-foot-long metal death spike around and around, scattering the tourists. Where the deadly projectile will land is anyone's guess. Thankfully, the umbrella shoots a couple of feet past the tipsy Brits and lands in some plants nearby.

I call the waiter over to explain to him that, one, my companion and I were almost killed or severely injured, and, two, the umbrella stand is missing the screw that would hold the umbrella in the base, as are many stands.

His response: This happens all the time and there isn't anything we can do to prevent it. Shocked, I point to the empty screw hole in the base, and he only repeats what he just said. Finally, after we plead with him, he removes some of the many potential killer umbrellas from their stands and lays them on the ground. A request to tell the management of the incident is met with a shrug.

Several days later I speak to Phillip Rauser, part-owner of the restaurant, and Gerard Lex, his catering chief, and relate the tale of near-death in the sun. Their response: No one told us about the runaway umbrellas. Sure, it was "negligent," says Rauser, but it's never happened before. Lex is less concerned. "We're sorry you got scared of an umbrella flying around," he says derisively. Both say the waiter was mistaken when he said, in no uncertain terms, that flying death parasols are a common occurrence.

Still, given their apparent sanguine attitude about the deadly brollies, the managers and owners of Gabbiano's will have to do without my business. In the future, I will be seeking my waterfront experiences where, darling, I will be upwind of hurtling poles of death.

-- George Cothran