Week 16: On The Road Again

After quitting Cusco after nearly a week there, and getting on the bus to Ica, I awoke at 6am to find myself in the middle of the desert. It was pretty surreal after all the hustle and bustle of Cusco, and I had fallen asleep while we were still in an urban area. I couldn't fall back to sleep as the girl next to me was seriously infringing on my personal space, so I contented myself with watching the eerie sunrise as it slowly revealed in all their glory every new slope, dip and peak of the surrounding barren land. Then I continued reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez's 100 Years of Solitude, a culturally relevant book and highly recommended by me. I have read it once before and had been searching for another copy since I began my travels.

Huacachina, an oasis town

We arrived in the city of Ica at around 0830 and I shared the short taxi ride to Huacachina with a Swedish couple. On arriving in the oasis town we booked a tour to go "sandboarding" that evenin, and I booked a tour for the following day in Paracas national park.

Huacachina is pretty tiny (see left), so after ditching my rucksack at the hostel - as I was waiting for them to clean the dorm - I went to explore: it didn't take particularly long. There were absolutely no food shops - almost exclusively restaurants, hotels and hostels, tour agencies and souvenir shops.
After a relaxing swim in the pool at the hostel I went for lunch, and bought some popcorn as areserve in case I got peckish later. It was time to hit the dunes.

We took a "sand buggy" across the dunes, which was a bumpy ride but incredibly fun, stopping to take a few choice snaps along the way. The only thing sandboarding can be likened to is snowboarding., although as I don't snowboard I can't vouch for this. So instead of going down like I was o a snowboard, I, along with 90% of everyone else, lay down on our boards and plummetted face first down the dunes. It was really fun and we started off mwith easy slopes before progressing to terrifying precipices. There was only one unfortunate incident.

As we stood at the top of the last slope, peering down, a girl launched herself off, and as she zoomed down at what appeared to be quite some speed, she came closer and closer to a figure at the bottom. We all held our breath (or shouted for her to move) but breathed a sigh of relief as the potential casualty launched herself out of the way. BAM!! Someone else got hit instead. I don't think she sustained any serious injury but she was limping. I almost felt more sorry for the girl who had hit her, although both of them should have moved out of the way.

At the top of that fateful slope

Once the casualty area had been cleared, I was the next to tip myself over the edge. It was only then that it really hit home how fast the girl had been going when she floored the other one. I reckon at between 15 and 20 mph (I might be exaggerating, I'm not sure) by the time she began to slow at the bottom.

After a bit of a panic rush at the end, as we thought we were going to miss sunset, we set off again on the dune buggy and went up to the top of a large dune to see a beautiful sunset, which seemed to be more intense with every passing minute

Sunset in the desert

When we returned to the hostel the dorm still looked like a pig sty so I was upgraded for free and had my own room with bathroom. In the morning I was collected for the national park tour and we drove an hour to Paracas, where the Islas Ballestas are, commonly known as "The Poor Man's Gallapagos." First we had a boat tour, where we saw "El Candelabro" - a rock carving similar to the Nazca lines, and then went to the islands. It was more like a scene from Pirates of the Caribbean than how I imagine the Galapagos islands, but very impressive nonetheless.

Essentially, there were a lot of birds and some sea lions. It was interesting to see such a natural habitat packed so concentratedly with so many different species, and all living in harmony. We saw birds such as the blue-footed booby, the tendril, Humboldt penguins, cormorants and pelicans.

Sea lion lovin'

Playa Roja - Red Beach

Once we were ashore we headed to the national park, a peninsula. At the information centre I chose to walk around by myself. Although we had a tour guide, everybody else was a native Spanish speaker so the tour was in Spanish. My guide always explained to me separately what he had just told everyone else. We then visited a veiw point, and afterwards "playa roja" - the red beach where the sand was coloured from nearby rocks which crashed into the sea and over time the current swept their sand onto the beach. We then had lunch - I sat with Ana-Maria and her husband, they had kindly befriended me and extended an invitation to me to stay with them at their flat in Lima. I ate Ceviche, a classic Peruvian dish (which I can't remember if I have already mentioned) of raw fish marinated in lemon juice, usually served with sweet potato and sometimes onion.

Before I took my clothes off

The beach next to the restaurant was small but pretty. Unfortunately I had forgotten my bikini so I pulled my usual trick of going in in my underwear, although I thought it prudent not to include a picture of this.

After a refreshing dip I quickly went up to the (very windy) viewpoint before we went on our way back to the main road, where my guide stopped a bus for me, and I was soon on my way to Cerro Azul, a small beach town halfway between Paracas and the capital, Lima.

Although I love the freedom of travelling alone, it can have its disadvantages. Inthis case, it was the problem of finding a room. Smaller places tend not to have backpacker's hostels in the same way as other places, and therefore only have private rooms. After 45 minutes of searching I secured myself a private room for 30 soles (about £6.50). After a walk along the pier to see the sunset and the vast number of surfers, I was walking back to my room when I bumped into a group of 4 people who looked very vaguely familiar - they had been in the same hostel in Huacachina and did a different boat tour that same morning.

Gave in and bought some Peru merchandise... they love it here!

The Swedish couple, who I had already seen in Cerro Azul, had passed on the word that I was looking for some room mates, but unfortunately too late. All the same, we went together for street food and then cake. Afterward I went with Elisa, a German girl, and Simone, an Austrian girl, to sit on the beach for a few hours by a nice fire and chat.

I slept soundly in my own room that night - I was getting used to it! The next morning I met with Elisa and Simonr again so we could all find a room together - which we managed to get without too much trouble and with breakfast included. The other two - Elisabeth and Mane, also moved to our hostel.

Sunset from the pier

We spent the day on the beack, where I finishde 100 Years of Solitude and started Sense and Sensibility, as well as managing to get spectacularly sunburnt on my tummy, as it hadn't seen the sun in quite some time. In the evening we went for dinner and Simone and I shared Chicharone - a fried fish dish. That evening marked the end of the festive holiday period in Peru so the town was completely dead in the evening and we all headed to bed early. The following day after checking out we soaked up a fwe last rays at the beach before heading to Lima, which was a 3 hour bus ride.

Simone and I devour some cake

We settled into our hostel in Lima okay, although Elisa headed for another, slightly cheaper one, and was never to be seen again. The whole day everyone had ben hankering after a good pizza, so I asked the woman at reception to recommend somewhere. Big mistake. It was the worst recommendation I have ever had and the mot disappointing pizza. Best not dwell on it.

The next few days were passed easily - generally walking around the different parts of the city with Simone. We saw the beach front, which was actually a little grey and depressing, went to the central market, and - my favourite bit - visited the "Magic Circuit" of lit water fountains. In the evenings the company at the hostel varied greatly. For the first tiem in my life I disliked a Dutch person (reiterating every two minutes how you love to get so drunk you black out and sleep with loads of local girls does not make you "down with the kids," it just makes you sound like a knob, whatever your 35 year old seld might think); met a Finnish girl travelling (she told me "actually you look like you could be from Finland" and a conversation ensued to the effect that I could be from anywhere white people are from, as someone else thought I looked Australian (a first) another Swedish (not a first) and another German (I can't even count how many times). The conversation did not surprise me.); and got hit on by an Australian, who came on way too strong. Body language overload. (Apologies if you're reading this.)

Finally the day came for Simone and Mane to fly home, as Elisabeth (sister and wife respectively) was staying to travel for a few more weeks. I passed the evening catching up on some emails while the others headed for the airport. That night Elisabeth told me she was planning to travel to Oxapampa and Pozuzo, small German-Austrian colonies, and I decided to go with her.

Selfie in the fountain tunnel

Week 15: Machu Picchu

So in hindsight, I should have done the trek. Even if I didnt't do "The" Inca Trail. Getting the train ended up costing the same as doing a 4 day trek. Gutted. However I am already planning my return to Peru, as I haven't seen the Nazca Lines, done the Inca Trail, or visited Manu national park, where some of the richest wildlife in the world is. So at least I will know for next time.

The misty sacred valley in the morning

All, the same, it was pretty impressive. The most ironic thing, in my opinion, is the name. Machu Picchu, in Quechua, means Old Mountain. So all those iconic pictures you have seen of the ruins, in not a single one of those pictures can you actually see Machu Picchu mountain; it's behind you. Just struck me of sort of silly. Of course the whole region is now Machu Picchu, but that doesn't invalidate my point.

On the morning after everyone else had left I was picked up at around 0800 for a tour of The Sacred Valley. I don't usually go in for organised tours, and by taking one it only managed to reiterate my conviction that they are usually a waste of money. We spent longer sitting on the bus than at all the stops put together; the "optional lunch" which I was assured would be cheaper to pay for in advance, was not optional, as there was nothing else around for miles, and cost less if you bought it there; and the guide mostly talked about corn, and the weather. Not "The Weather" generally, but as an example "so... it is still raining outside... maybe it will stop soon. It does sometimes rain in the valley here." Good one Sherlock. There goes 40 dollars I could have spent on something more worthwhile. The other ruins were impressive, from the very little I saw, but I wouldn't recommend such a tour of the Sacred Valley to anybody.

I was droped in Ollantaytambo at approximately 1600 and my train wasn't until 2100 so I had a fair bit of time to kill. I ocuppied a table outside a restaurant and forced people to make friends with me by offering to share my table when there were only inside tables left. This was how I met Abi and Rachel, who both live in London. We had a lovely chat for a couple of hours, and their enjoyment of Machu Picchu that day helped to ralley me, as my enthusiasm had waned throughout the day due to the awful tour and the prospect of waiting for the train. We agreed to meet up in Cusco over New Year if I decided to stay there.

My train got in at 2300 and I found my hostel with no trouble, where they were almost clueless about the organised guide which had been arranged by then. I met up again with Robin, Alexis and Eduardo, three Peruvian guys who me had met in the hostel in Cusco. In the morning they too were going to Machu Picchu but leaving earlier and climbing Wayna Picchu (the mountain you actually can see in the pictures).

I decided to get an earlyish night as it would be rising early the next morning. Earlier than expected, as it turned out. They have an early breakfast at the hostel because so many people leave early. However, I find it completely uneccesary to start playing music at the bar at QUARTER TO SIX. WHAT THE HECK. Never mind. I took the bus from Aguas Calientes, the town by the ruins, where I had been staying, to the entrance, where I met my guide. This tour was a lot better. Our guide was extremely informative and spoke impeccable English. After a couple of hours the tour finished and we were left to enjoy it on our own. That was when the vastness of it really hit me. During the tour we had been constantly surrounded by other people, but once you go off on your own it is easy enough to potter through the quieter parts of the ruins and have a moment on your own to take it in. I walked up to The Sun Gate, the entrance to the city from the Inca Trail, a "45 minute walk" (half an hour). It was great to enjoy the sight of the ruins from slightly further off. I was particularly lucky with the weather as it was sunny the entire day whilst I was there, a rarity at this time of year. As I was leaving I met the Peruvian guys again, as they were also leaving. I chose to walk back down to the town as it was another 10 dollars to get the bus. (Which takes twenty minutes. Rip off.). On the walk back down I met a German girl and we walked together, only then did large splodges of rain start landing on our heads.

The money shot

In the evening I had planned to go to the nearby hot springs, however on being informed that going by myself as a girl I was going to get hit on loads, I lost enthusiasm as I couldn't be bothered with the hassle. Instead I stayed at the hostel and chatted with Robin and his friends as they waited for the train. I had been unable to get a ticket that evening so had to wait for the following morning.

The next day I was actually glad, as I was then able to enjoy the view from the window of the train, a novelty which I have missed. Before Machu Picchu, I had only had one train journey since travelling, and that had been overnight. I arrived back in Cusco at midday, and through much cajoling from various people, I was convinced to stay there for New Year's Eve.

I went for lunch with the Peruvian guys, where Robin said that it must have been the first time I had actually hung out with local/national people. A suggestion which I strongly rebuffed. Thinking about it, in every country I have. I stayed with my friend Florencia in Buenos Aires; in Puerto Natales in Chile Jen and I spent some time with two Chileans - Diego and Seb; in Bolivia I had dinner with the hostel owner, Cèsar in Coroico and on the 2 hour boat back from Isla del Sol spent the whole time talking to a Bolivian girl about my age, whose name escapes me, and in Brazil we spent time with a Brazilian girl, although she too was travelling. These are just a few examples and make me feel a lot better, especially when I meet people who have been travelling in Latin America for months and barely even speak a word of Spanish.

After months of travelling I decided to treat myself to a few relaxed days in Cusco, spending time walking in the city and sitting in parks. New Year's Eve in Peru is a pretty big deal and Cusco is apparently the place to be. There are traditions according to what you want the next year to bring - wearing yellow for hapiness, red for love, going around the block with a suitcase for travel, and so on. Despite my promises to be a social butterfly all evening I spent the majority of it with Abi and Rachel, the girls I had met in Ollantaytambo. However I have never been a big fan of New Year's and it was very busy so after showing off our amazing yellow pants and celebrating at midnight, I pretty much ditched out and went to bed. Sorry to disappoint anyone who was expecting a particularly wild story. The next day was quiet in the city and I basically lazed about and read "Little House on the Prairie." Don't bother, I have no idea why it is famous. Almost nothing happens.

Nighttime festivities in the Plaza de Armas

On the second, in the afternoon, I took the overnight bus to Ica, on the coast. I had an amazing amount of legroom and found it incredible that everyone else has that much space on most buses. The food and the choice of television, however, was abismal. After a few awful films, they put on a docudrama about Gettysburg. Really Loud. Until Midnight. Aparently only 5 people died and none of them were bleeding to death. Incredible. I finally managed to doze off, ready for what the rest of Peru had to offer me.

Week 14: All I Want For Christmas...

...is to spend a few lovely days with my family, eating to excess and having fun. Failing that, the next best option was to do the exact same thing but with my surrogate family.

Before arriving in Cusco for Christmas I had a few hectic action packed days. I visited Lake Titicaca on the Peruvian side, where they have "floating islands" made of reeds, and a few actual islands. It was a fun day but we spent longer on the boat than anything else, which nobody told me so I hadn't brought a book.

Narnia-esque landscapes

After the floating islands we went to Taquile, a larger island. I walked a little ahead of the rest of the group (not being antisocial but as I am sure you know it physically pains me to walk slowly) and felt that if I stopped to tie my shoelace I would hear voices of invisible men plotting to ambush the group. Maybe I shouldn't read any more Narnia any time soon. We had a delicious lunch of quinoa soup followed by trout from the lake and then a mint tea, which I actually liked. This was probably because there wasn't any tea in it, just mint and hot water.

Learning to weave Alpaca garments. Pretending to, anyway.

Santa Catalina Convent

The following day I took the bus in the afternoon to Arequipa, which took about 6 hours. When I got off the bus I met Itamar, from Israel, and we headed to find a hostel. In the evening we walked around the city, which I found surprisingly attractive. I don't usually like cities but Arequipa has a lovely colonial feeling, and was particularly improved by the Christmassy feel in the main square. The next day Itamar did some downhill biking from the nearby volcano, El Misti, but I decided to take advantage of my only day in Arequipa to explore the city. I took an extremely good walking tour in the morning, and after lunching with some other from the walking tour, we headed to see "Juanita" - the mummy-who-isn't-actually-a-mummy-but-a-really-old-body-preserved-by-the-cold-at-the-top-of-a-volcano. She was a human sacrifice to pacify the Gods in Inca times. It was very interesting but difficult to see the body because of the conditions she needed to be kept in. Then we went to Santa Catalina Convent, which was pretty much a citadel within the city. It is still a functioning convent but obviously the part which is open to the public has long been out of use. It was really well kept and I couldn't believe how beautiful it was.
I then went to a rooftop bar on the square to enjoy sunset over the city. After this it was time to get the bus to Cusco.

Panoramic from the rooftop bar at sunset was beautiful!

View of the main square on Christmas eve - manic!

After a not too awful overnight bus journey, I arrived with Itamar in Cusco at the somewhat unsociable hour of 8am. We ditched our bags and went to a cafe which I will not name because arguably it is taking over the world and had a sort of version of breakfast. I headed back to the hostel I was staying at the rest before the others arrived. After only a few minutes of sitting I heard the dulcet Dutch tones of one particular travelling companion of mine in the lobby, answered by the Jen's Scottish lilt. We were reunited!

After checking in we headed to "Jack's Cafe" with Alex, an Australian girl who had travelled with Jen and Eefje after I had left for Brazil. After some well deserved homey tasting treats Jen and I went back to the hostel to make ready for battle.
I'm not really joking. On the way to the Inca Trail, Jen's bag had fallen off the bus and was lost forever in the mists of time. Her guide for the trip was, to be honest, being a bit of a dick about it. I went along as moral support so that she wouldn't get trampled on and intimidated by an emotionally-blackmailing, lying weasel. However after a tense half an hour or so, in which I was told "it would be better if I kept silent" (I kept calmer than you might have expected), all was resolved one way or another. We weren't going to let it spoil our Christmas.

Early Christmas present for me... from myself

In the evening we went out for food and cocktails with a few others from the hostel, before going dancing. Needless to say, there were a few sore heads on Christmas morning.
It didn't stop us from all jumping onto Jen's bed in our PJs and tearing open the presents we had from each other and digging into our stockings. I got a lovely pair of earrings from Jen and Eefje and some chocolate from Alex, as well as some lovely hand-knitted gloves/half armwarmers from my mum, which I had been carrying around, wrapped, for over 3 weeks. I also opened the last day on my advent calendar card, thankfully it wasn't a happy family or I think I might have got a bit emotional!

Aforementioned delicious brunch

We went for a delicious brunch before coming back to the hostel for a nap. We were rudely interrupted by another familiar Mexican face (or rather, voice, as none of us wanted to open our eyes) as Edgar came to see what we were doing. We told him, extremely politely, that we would meet him later, after our nap.
So in the evening we all donned our Christmas hats (I hadn't managed to get one so I had to make do with a minions hat) and headed to a more upmarket restaurant for dinner. The menu looked really delicious but I didn't have much of an appetite so stuck with just having a main. I had an absolutely delicious piece of Peruvian trout on a bed of much-needed vegetables. We were all tucked up in bed by midnight with full tummies and sleepy heads.

Preparing to devour our Christmas dinners

On Boxing Day we had a pretty chilled out day. I managed a short run in the morning, wandered why I was struggling so much, and then remembered that Cusco is at an altitude of 3,339m (11,152ft). After that I wasn't really surprised. We explored the city a little more, just walking and enjoying the day. (It probably rained, I can't really remember).

The 27th was the inevitableday of separation, and in the afternoon Jen, Eefje and Alex all took the bus to their various destinations and I was once more deserted! However with the prospect of seeing the iconic Machu Picchu in the days ahead of me, I was pretty excited and ready to get moving again.

Boxing day attire... now you may say I look German