August 15, 2007:  It had been little more than a month since El Fotografo, El Hijo and I had packed up the contents of our 4-bedroom house in Florida, stuffed it all in a shipping container bound for Callao, and hopped on a plane to EF’s hometown of Lima. Everything in Peru’s capital was new and strange to El Hijo and I, then — and to EF as well, since he hadn’t lived in Peru for 25 years. The food, the climate, the traffic, the language — just stepping out of the front door each morning was an adventure, not always an easy one. For several weeks we had been staying in a friend’s second-floor apartment in…