Reuniting in Peru

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Heading to the Lake
From Arica, Chile, we joined up with a couple from our relaxed hostel and bartered a ride in an old V8 taxi to take us the 10kms to Tacna, Peru. There we had a few hours to walk around the central park-area of town before getting an overnight bus up to Puno. The small city sits on the edge of ‘Lago Titicaca’; one of the world’s highest navigable lakes, which splits the border between Bolivia and Peru. We parted ways with the others and joined up with a tour at the busy lake-port, which started with a slow boat ride towards the middle of the lake. The first stop was at the famous ‘floating islands’; made completely out of the lake’s reeds. Family groups have lived on these massive reed-pontoons for hundred of years, but they have only recently realised the potential tourist draw of their unique living conditions. On every island in sight, the same routine was taking place; welcoming one of the dozens of tourist boats, selling them handicrafts and putting on small skits to demonstrate how "local life" has been for generations. For an extra fee, we were convinced to be paddled across to another island in one of the reed boats, where some little kids sang a song in all the major world languages (so thankfully not Kiwi). After the no-frills coastal town of Arica, all this touristy stuff was like a slap in the face with a tacky souvenir, and we were starting to regret coming out here. Luckily things improved after that, starting when we continued our trip with a leisurely 2 hour cruise into the middle of the huge lake, sitting on the boat's roof in the sun.

Our destination was ‘Isla Amantani’, an agricultural-terraced island with several traditional communities living on it. We landed and were divided up into pairs to go back with a local family to stay with them in their homes. Jimmy and I walked back with our “mum” and two of her daughters to their basic house. We were given a room and the women cooked us a simple meal on the open fire in the dirt-floor “kitchen”. It had been recommended we bring the families small gifts of items they would have trouble getting on the island; like school supplies and fruit. The most appreciated gift though was a box of Nurofen. On seeing it, mum's eyes lit up and she gave us both hugs and indicated it would be great for her toothaches. In the evening, we all headed up to the hill on top of the island to watch the beautiful sunset. The short walk up quickly reminded us that we were back up to 3,800m, as did the cold night. After dinner, we were invited to dress up in some local attire and join all the other groups at the town hall for some traditional dancing. Our host ‘sisters’ took us down for what was a good laugh for a while, before it brought back bad memories of being forced to dance in school.

The next day we had breakfast and farewelled our hosts and then went back on the boat to another nearby island- ‘Isla Tequile’. There we hiked up into the middle of the steep island, passing traditional farmers and their animals along the way. We had a set lunch in a restaurant and explored the peaceful island before taking the slow trip back to Puno in the afternoon. After very simple island food for the past 2 days, we stocked up on meat at a restaurant that night and had an early night in preparation for our dawn bus to Cusco in the morning.

Cusco
The bus ride through the fertile landscape and eucalyptus plantations of ‘The Sacred Valley’ had us glued to the window. Not even Chuck Norris’ amazing ability to draw super strength from drinking beer in 'Lone Wolf McQuade' or our disbelief that they also showed ‘Saw 3’ to the families on the bus could distract us from it for long. We were also anxious to meet up with our older brother, Damien. It had been a last minute decision by Damo to come over on a 3-day transit from Fiji to join us in Peru for 10 days. My friend Tara was also supposed to join us, but family health issues meant she unfortunately had to cancel at the last minute. We arrived in Cusco and got a cab through the charming, old city to our hostel on a hill that overlooked the main ‘Plaza de Armas’. There we met and woke up Damo, and it was the first time in 2 years that we'd all been together. We took a walk of the town to get some food, and I randomly spotted some friends from Brisbane; Mick and Kate, walking past our restaurant. They knew we were in town, but we were unaware they were even out of Australia. We organised to meet up with them later while we returned for some overdue Brosnan catch-up beers at the hostel.

In the bar that night we learnt of another mountain bike rider had been killed on the Death Road in Bolivia. A van with 8 passengers ran into the rider as they went over the edge and all 9 people died!

With a few days to relax in Cusco and prepare for our hike, we went around to some of the nearby sights and ruins that make up the historical city and surrounding area. The name ‘Cusco’ is derived from the Quechuan word ‘Qosqo’, meaning navel, and up until the Spanish arrived it was the most important city in the Americas. It was considered by the native Quechuan people and their ruling Inca (like an emperor) as being the navel of the world and Qosqo was the political and spiritual centre of the Incan Empire. The whole historic area of the city is still lined with impressive stone work from the time of the Incas; with many Spanish-built buildings still making use of their strong foundations to this day. The main city centre is filled with good-natured hagglers selling everything from massages to paintings and it is quite touristy. However, just a few blocks away from the central Plaza de Armas, it quickly becomes quiet cobble-stoned streets and it feels like you’re walking around an outdoor historical museum. Sitting on the hilltop behind the city is the large ‘Saqsaywaman’ site (or as the tourists call it “sexy woman”), which the Spanish largely destroyed to use the massive stones for their churches and houses. When the Incas originally designed Qosqo, they shaped it like a giant puma, and this ceremonial site was the animal’s head, with the staggered stone placement representing its jagged teeth. Nearby are several other ancient ruins stretching up into the hills and the ‘Christo Blanco’ statue which overlooks the whole city and valley.

Since Damo had just flown in from sea-level, we tried to make sure he would get used to Cusco’s 3,600m altitude. To do this they advise not drinking too much and taking it easy, but with the 3 Brosnan boys together that was never going to happen! During the days we did some small hikes to get our legs ready and ate at several great restaurants, particularly ‘Jacks Cafe’ for its breakfasts. I also enquired about volunteer programs and Spanish lessons in the city to take up after the boys had left, and tried to cure the constant stomach cramps I’d been getting. At night we went out for Cusco's bustling nightlife, usually after the happy hour at the hostel. It doesn't matter what night it is in Cusco, as it is always teeming with tourists returning from various hikes and tours and looking to cut loose. The several bars and small clubs in town all try to lure people in with everything from showing free movies to free drinks.

One night we met with our tour group to run through our trek program and meet our guides. We only had a group of 6 people total, but disgustingly we would have 2 guides and 7 porters to accompany us! Joining us three we had a Swedish couple in their 50’s and one Aussie girl, who we later called ‘Princess’- for her habit of getting others to wait on her.

The Inca Trail
There are several different routes to hike to Machu Picchu (plus the bus and train), as well as many “Inca Trails” running all throughout Peru and beyond, but the official 'Inca Trail trek to Machu Picchu' is the most famous and popular trek to do. Requiring a booking of at least 3 months ahead (it was up to 6 months when we were in town), the trail’s numbers are limited to 500 people per day, including porters and guides. Generally with all the tours, the porters carry all the food, tents and equipment, while the tourists carry their precious cameras and maybe some water. We were one of the few groups that at least opted to carry our own sleeping bags and matts as well. According to our porters’ scales, we were still only carrying 10kgs, which was half their load.

Day 1- Beginning: Starting from Cusco in the morning, we went in a van into the Sacred Valley and to the small town of Ollantaytambo. There we had some breakfast and resisted all the locals trying to sell us walking sticks, before getting ready to start the famous trek. All the groups were given instructions about letting porters pass and calling out "porters" ahead to let others know they were coming through. With their big packs, the stocky porters would steam ahead to set up camp and begin cooking, while the group casually walked behind. The first day’s hike was easy-going, with some slight rises and descents and several interesting Incan ruins and watch-houses along the way. We had been told how amazing the food was on these trips, and weren't disappointed when we sat down to eat our first meal in the dining tent next to a stream. We made it to our already-set camp site by early afternoon and filled in some time by throwing the frisbee around. My stomach was still playing up with cramps, but I tried to settle it with the snack of popcorn and hot chocolate put on while the porters prepared a hearty dinner. Without much to do at night, we stared at the bright stars before going to bed early. It was strange to have the 3 of us camping together again, something we did a lot of when we were very young.

Day 2- Moving Day: we were nicely woken up with a cup of coca tea before packing up and eating breakfast. From there we were ready to tackle the famous ‘Dead Woman's Pass’; the steepest and highest section of the Inca Trail. Jimmy and I had been waiting for this day to test ourselves and had spent the previous night challenging our apprentice guide (and ex-porter) to a race to the top. Damo, meanwhile, was more intent on keeping a steady pace rather than racing anyone. Not knowing what we were in for, Jimmy and I started off at a pace that was too quick for our young guide. At the first rest point, we had to wait for a while for the rest of our group to catch up. Luckily the view back down into our campsite valley was gorgeous. We caught up to our porters at the 2nd rest stop, after they had started early while we were eating breakfast. Rather than wait for our group, we joined in step with the porters and used them to slip-stream behind as the other tourists moved out of their way. People, who were only carrying their camera and a water bottle, were a little confused about whether we were porters ourselves. We obviously didn’t look like native Peruvians, but a few people were heard asking the question since we were carrying decent sized packs and were moving at the same pace as them and taking the same steeper short-cuts. As we climbed higher and higher, the air began to thin and breathing became tough. We found all our hiking practice and time at altitude paying off as the porters began to fall by the wayside. Some of the other porters sitting on the side began to nod their heads or even clap us as we continued on in a steady rhythm. We even kindly used to “porter” call to get passed several that were struggling along.

Soon it was just two of our porters, Jimmy and I remaining in the lead pack as we eyed the top of the pass in the distance. It wasn’t that far away, but with the speed we were now reduced to it seemed like we weren’t getting any closer. One of the porters stopped to take a breather, but the other was keeping a steady pace the whole time. I knew if I had any chance of beating him to the top, I’d have to step it up a notch. I put in some solid strides and powered ahead. My lungs began to burn and my head went light and dizzy. I must have been very close to fainting, but just managed to keep going through the motions; left, right, left, right. I reached the top of the 4,215m high saddle-pass and relief immediately set in as oxygen returned to my brain. I knew the hardest part of the hike was now done. I looked behind to see our porter push out his last few steps, with Jimmy close behind. We shared our coca leaves and snacks with our pace-setting porter, which he really appreciated. We soaked up the endorphins and enjoyed the satisfaction of putting in a massive effort to power to the top. With some time to take it in, the view from the top was an incredible tale of two halves. Down the side we had just come from, the Sacred Valley was glowing with sun and clear skies, while on the other side stood a thick rainforest, covered in dense fog.

Because of the large numbers, the camping sites and departure times are staggered, so there were some groups already at the summit. All the groups gathered to clap in their finishing members as they made it to the top. We waited around for the rest of our group, headed by a fast finishing apprentice guide who had paced himself well for the whole climb. We gave Damo a big hand as he did amazingly well after coming straight from sea-level. The Swedes put in a good effort as well, while our guide had to go part way back down to carry Princess’ bag for her.

The final section for the day was the beginning of the big downhill steps, which were tough on our tired legs. It was also a change in climate as we entered the cool, wet fog and the thick rainforest. Worn out, we crashed for an afternoon nap, before having another great meal accompanied with ghost stories and an early night.

Day 3- Descent:
While the day before was a test of fitness and breathing, the downhill of Day 3 was a test of muscle and joint stamina. The large steps must have been torture for the slaves carrying their Inca down on his throne, and they were also a test for our knees, and one of Damo’s began playing up on him. Most of the day was hiking through the 'Cloud Forest' and exploring more ruin sites in the thick, wet fog. It added a mysterious feel to the day, and you really could picture it hundreds of years ago. The original stone work on this day on the path and steps were the best of the trek. The infamous Inca Trail toilets were living up to their reputation, with the more expensive tours carrying their own chemical ‘port-a-loos’ instead. We had another great lunch at our rest stop and continued on our descent into clearer weather. Our last stop was a big, multi-terraced ruin on a hill face that had only been rediscovered in recent years. It was great to explore its rooms and stonework and had us even more excited for what we would see tomorrow. All the groups' camp sites were set around a large hut/ bar. There we were able to buy some overpriced beers and watch the sunset over the expansive, lush valley. It was great to relax and take it the great view over the green valley with snow-capped peaks of The Andes in the distance. Afterwards, we returned for our final delicious dinner and presented our hard working porters with some tips to thank them for their hard-work. We had a chat about what the highlights had been so far; the 3 of us gave respect to the head porter who pushed us so hard up the pass, Princess probably said something about herself that I wasn’t listening to and the Swedes talked about feeling emotions, like it was the first time they’d experienced them. We then turned in for an early night, with a big day awaiting us in the morning.

Day 4- Reward:
At 3.30am we were woken up and quickly got ready to depart. Our excitement was building as we went to the nearby check-point and waited along with all the other groups for it to open. It was still pitch black when they began letting us through the gates. We were around 30 people back from the front, but Jimmy and I soon resumed our overtaking from Day 2. The path wound its way from the camp’s valley up and over the main separating ridge and into the next valley. Jimmy and I broke into a full run as we caught group after group. Our goal was to be the first to the ‘Sun Gate’ and hopefully get the first view of Machu Picchu. Most days its not visible at that point due to the early fog cover, but we were optimistic. My stomach was cramping and running with it almost made me throw-up, but I kept going. Before long we had passed everyone, which included some reluctant path-hogs. A few of them also began running as they tried to catch us, so we had to keep our pace up. It was only starting to get light and we could see there were some serious drop-offs just to the right of the path. We made it to the steep set of stairs labelled the ‘Gringo Killers' by the local guides and powered up them. It was an ‘Indiana Jones moment’ as we scaled the stairs and ran the final stretch to reach the gate. Jimmy made first it and gave out a big "yeeow!" on arrival. The great lost city of the Incas was visible down below us, in a gap in the fog. We had a moment of it to ourselves to take it in, before a couple of other guys arrived, out of breath. Damien wasn't far behind, but the fog had quickly moved across. While we waited for Princess to catch up, the fog again started to lift much to the delight of all the trigger-happy tourists.

Our group then slowly walked together down final trail section to the most famous vantage point of the city; on a small hill, next to the guard hut. There everyone gathered to watch the sun slowly burn through the fog and begin to shine on the spectacular stone city. It was breathtaking to see not only the city itself, but the location it was built in. All around us, the high mountain valley provided an impenetrable wall, covered in thick rainforest, while the river and valley below were open and visible from the city’s vantage. The sheer mountain spire of Huayna Picchu behind the city made the whole setting look surreal. Even without the lost city to see and explore, the valley alone would have been worth the 4 day trip to get there. With the photos we got of the 3 of us in front of that most magical of settings, I think we scored enough photo-brownie points with our parents to make them forget about grandkids for a few more years.

We then entered the city walls and followed our guides on a tour of some of the most important areas and structures. So much is still unknown of the reason and use of the city, but the main temples and astronomical dials were simply fascinating, even if the theories behind them were just that. The practical aspects of the city were equally impressive, with advanced irrigation, separated agricultural areas and a stone quarry used to source the amazing stonework from. The layout was set around a central great lawn and everywhere had amazing views of the surrounding valley.

With only several hundred people allowed to hike up the steep Huayna Picchu, Jimmy and I went to sign up, while Damo’s knee wasn’t up to the narrow path. We again set a cracking pace and smashed out the climb in 20 minutes. From there we had an aerial view down on the city and valley and were even more amazed at some of the locations for the terraced stonework. Various crops were once grown up here that couldn’t be grown in the city, because being several hundred metres higher it was in a different climate. We admired the view from the edge of one ledge, before returning to rejoin Damo and explore more of the city’s buildings.

After a tiring day, the three of us lay down and had an afternoon nap on a quiet section of the lawn. It was a great way to get a break from the tourist hoards, fresh from their bus or train trips from Cusco. After resting, we took out the frisbee and started passing it amongst ourselves. The guard obviously thought we were having too much fun and blew his whistle constantly until we stopped playing. We then exited the city via the main residential sector entrance and climbed back up the small hill to watch the afternoon light now shine on the other side of the buildings for our last view. We left the city and took the shuttle bus down to the town of Aguas Calientes, on the valley floor. Thankfully we didn’t have long to wait around for our train back to Cusco, as being the stopping point for the tourists arriving by train and bus, the town was the most touristy we’d found all trip. When we finally made it back to our hostel in Cusco we were exhausted. We managed to head out for dinner and a few drinks, before crashing out for a solid sleep. Unfortunately our room went straight into the bathroom next door, so we were constantly woken up by people coming in from the hostel bar and saying “oh, this isn’t the toilet”.

The next day, Damo decided his short holiday could be improved with a private hotel room and we moved into the trendy San Blas area. We also rewarded our hard-working legs with one of the massages the hustlers were constantly trying to sell on the street. We spent the last couple of days enjoying the tasty meals and fun nightlife around Cusco, before Damo had to start his trip back to Fiji. It was sad to see him go, but we were so glad he had come over for his memorable cameo appearance. That night, Jimmy and I took an overnight bus down to Arequipa.

Arequipa
Back to just the 2 of us, Jimmy and I arrived early morning in Arequipa and checked into a hostel and caught up on some sleep. Afterwards, we walked around the attractive, colonial city centre and checked out some options for getting to the nearby canyons. We decided to do it ourselves using the public bus, leaving at 1.30am. With that sorted, we went for an early dinner at restaurant renowned for the quality of the local specialty dish, Recotto Relleno (stuffed, roasted pepper). It was definitely worth the trip out and we returned to get a couple of hours sleep before our midnight start to the day.

Just outside Arequipa lie the 2 deepest canyons in the world, which fittingly also have the world's largest birds, the Andean Condors. We went to spot the flying giants at the 2nd deepest, the Colca Canyon; which at up to 3,200m deep is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. The giant condors live in the canyon walls and use the rising thermal air streams to lift their big frames up, as they wait for their prey to appear. We got off the bus on the brisk morning at the condor viewing spot and sat on the edge, waiting for both the birds and sun to show themselves. We could only appreciate how immensely deep the canyon was once the sun started to illuminate the bottom of it, which was a long time after we felt its warming rays up on the rim. It was made even more impressive by the nearby dormant volcanoes, stretching more than 6,000m into the sky. Eventually a few of the massive birds could be spotted soaring below us, with their wings outstretched. It was quite relaxing sitting there and taking it all in, right up until the inevitable tourist buses arrived. That was our cue to head back, and we took the next public bus back to town. We had the afternoon to kill before our overnight bus to Nazca, which we passed with more tasty food and a couple of movies at our hostel, after we snuck past the reception.

Nazca
Later that night, we boarded another overnight bus to Nazca. Unfortunately our attendant, like us, slept through our stop. We thought it may have just been our valium-induced sleep, but another girl also missed the same stop as the bus pulled in and back out without announcing where we were. We all realised once we were at the next town north, and after some finger pointing, they bought us some local bus tickets to get us back.

We finally arrived in the forgettable, small city of Nazca; made famous for its proximity to a series of unexplainable ancient shapes in the middle of nowhere. Theories range from ancient civilisations to alien involvement, but no-one really knows how the ‘Nazca Lines’ came to be. From the ground, its hard to make out their designs, which is why the best way to see them is from the air. The whole town’s tourist industry is based around 45 minute joy-flights over the series of mysterious shapes. They are “joy” flights if you enjoy banking hard and doing constant circles in a small Cessna propeller plane, as we do. Our fellow-passenger from Korea was not enjoying herself as much, and looked like she was going to make making some creations of her own on the inside of the window. The lines started off just that; some simple lines and arrows. As the flight went on though, they progressed into intricate and symmetrical patterns. They all had been given nick-names, usually after the creature they resembled most. There was the spider, the flamingo, and the space man (lending more argument to the alien theory). It was fascinating to see bizarre series, but afterwards we were ready to head north of Nazca, for the 2nd time that day.

Huacachina
We had heard stories about the adventures to be had in the small resort-village of Huacachina from several people along our travels, and we knew we had to go there. Set around a lagoon and surrounded by some of the best sandboarding dunes in the world, it was like nowhere else we had been. Located just outside the industrial city of Ica, it used to be an elite resort town for Peru’s upper class in the middle of last century. After being abandoned by the wealthy, it is now frequented by the opposite end of the sophistication scale; backpackers. The once grand hotels set around the green lagoon have been converted into hostels which have aged over time. The pools and bars are still there, but they now have a mixture of languages and more rowdy behaviour, and the restaurants now serve more budget-oriented food. Being down at sea-level, the weather was much warmer and the air thicker than up in the mountains and we appreciated every bit of it.

What makes this place unique from other backpacker hangouts though is sand, lots of sand. On all 4 sides, sand dunes tower up to 400m towards the baking sun and outwards as far as you can see. To hike to the top of the yellow hills takes a lot of effort and in the middle of the day, some tough feet. There are numerous places to rent sandboards from, and at any given time you can see tourists standing, sitting or lying down as they slide down the slopes, usually out of control. We saw a couple of Canadian guys crash right into our hostel’s back fence and get concussed. I had been disappointed in Brazil with using the basic velcro-strap sandboards, so we paid the extra to get some proper, re-laminated snowboards and boots. Before it was too hot in the morning, Jimmy and I hiked up the dune I called ‘Jaws’, after the famous Hawaiian big-wave break. The ride was so much better with proper equipment, and it felt much more like snowboarding. I hiked back up a couple of times to the top to ride all the way down to our hostel pool; where a swim was great for washing out all the sand and soothing my burnt feet.

The real highlight of this town is the dune-buggy companies that take you out for joy-rides in the dune desert. Apart from a thrilling drive, it also gives you easy access to sandboard down some of the other dunes. All through the day and into dusk, the quiet sound of sand blowing with the wind is interrupted by the roar of the V8 beasts and shrieks of excitement from their passengers. It made the place feel like something like a Mad Max movie, with the bright roll-cage fitted machines constantly out scouring the desert and only returning to refuel. After our morning of hiking the dunes, we booked in a sunset trip for that day, along with 3 English girls. With the boards in the back and us strapped into our 3-point harness seats, we powered up and out of the sand valley. Soon we raced along the sand plains, then darted up a steep dune almost to the top, before our driver banked sharply and came back down and powered ahead to another dune. It was like a roller-coaster on sand with some serious drops and inclines.

We stopped at the top of a dune and waxed up our boards. As we were doing so, our driver took out a bottle of pisco and a makeshift shot glass. He said a little Spanish rhyme and poured us a shot of the strong spirit, before he and his friend both did one too. We then boarded down the smooth slope, getting all the reward without the effort of having to hike up. We followed the same routine at several more dunes until it started getting dark and we started getting tipsy. We stopped and watched the burning red sun dip below the dunes in the distant horizon and the group had one more shot of pisco together. Our driver then told just over the back there was one last dune for us to ride, so Jimmy and I climbed up the short incline. As we reached the edge, we were blown away, for just as we looked over; some guy went hurtling past us on his stomach down the steepest sand slope we’d seen! He turned into a blazing sand storm as he shot down the dune and out towards the waiting buggies below. Scrambling with excitement, we got our gear ready and prepared to take the drop. Jimmy took off first, taking the lie-down option. Like the guy before, he raced down out of control, leaving only a cloud of sand-dust visible from behind. I then strapped my bindings and dropped in, bombing the run and putting in a couple of high speed turns along the way. It was the most like snowboarding I’ve ever felt away from the snow, more than wakeboarding or surfing. Down the bottom, some of the dune buggy drivers who had been watching said we should stay to enter the weekend’s competition, but their judgement may have been impaired by too much pisco.

We loaded our gear and headed back towards the village with some of the other buggies in the fading light. It must have been all the pisco shots he’d had, because the girls convinced our driver to stay behind and let us do one more run in the dark. We stopped at the top of the hill and the driver aimed the one working spotlight down to the bottom, to give us a target to aim for. We all jumped on lying down in a sprint race to the bottom. It was disorientating speeding along in complete blackness, but the spotlight gave us a reference point for the bottom; that was, until we continued past it and continued on into the nothingness. It turned out the light was only halfway down, and the hill was twice as big as we were expecting. We eventually came to a standstill and were picked up at the bottom. The driver’s friend owned the only real club in town, so we stopped in for some drinks in the empty place, before the girls cooked us up a dinner at their hostel.

The next day we left the hot desert playground of Huacachina and took a bus up the sea-fog covered coast towards Lima.

Lima
We arrived in the sprawling, dirty capital in the afternoon and quickly went straight to Lima’s suburban diamond in the rough: Miraflores. The green suburb, set on cliff-tops overlooking the Pacific Ocean was the most western place in South America we’d been to. Casinos and fast food chains were all around and one ritzy shopping centre with every western brand you can name was perched above the beach. It couldn’t have been more of a contrast from the historic cities of Cusco and Arequipa. We indulged on some greasy fast food and walked around the beach area for the afternoon, before having a few beers at the hostel bar at night. The next day was our final one together and we headed into central Lima. We walked around the Plaza de Armas which was heavily guarded with the American leaders’ conference taking place (especially for George W). After our western food binge yesterday, we were determined to find some good quality food to cap off a trip that had involved a large focus on our stomachs. We started with a dim-sum brunch in Chinatown, before coming back to Miraflores to try ´cevichi´- the local Peruvian delicacy of white fish cooked in lime juice and spices (delicious!). That night we booked into one of Peru’s fanciest restaurants ´Astrid & Gaston´. Our jeans and t-shirts made us stand out as being quite unsophisticated compared to the locals, but we still enjoyed some delicious bbq duck and one more recotto relleno and bottle of wine (and still for only $30 each). We went out to a local bar for a few drinks before calling it a night.

The next morning, I farewelled Jimmy in a cab bound for the airport and moped around Miraflores for the day. I was a little unsure of what to do alone before my bus back to Cusco in the afternoon. On that bus it really struck home that I was by myself again when instead of having Jimmy sitting next to me, I had a mother and her infant child, who was either crying or being changed for the entire trip. I arrived 19 hours later in sunny Cusco where I was picked up by the volunteer program manager and taken to my home for the next month.

Volunteering
One of the best aspects of travelling (particularly when solo) is the freedom of waking up each day and deciding what you want to do or see. Its also what makes it such a self-absorbed and selfish way of life, as you don’t need to consider anyone else if you don’t want to. With this in mind, I had decided before my trip that I would spend some time volunteering in a less fortunate country. As the trip progressed, I decided that Peru would be a great place to volunteer and learn some Spanish. After exploring a few options and getting a good impression of the city from my initial visit with the boys, I felt Cusco would be a good place to base myself in. The advantage of living in a place, even for a short time, is you get a much better feel for how a place and its people work rather than just breezing through and seeing it through tourist eyes. Going to the locals’ markets every week and living in a normal residential suburb gave me a vastly different perspective of Cusco to when I had originally stayed with Jimmy and Damien. For me it was also a welcome break from the constant travel routine that I’d had for a long time. It had been 6 months since I’d had more than 6 consecutive nights in one place, and I was ready to stay put for a while and unpack my clothes.

Volunteering your time to a cause is not as easy (or cheap) as it might sound. As I found out, the volunteer industry in general is filled with scams and profiteers, which has been made worse with the recent popularity of volunteer travel. Stories range from paying thousands of dollars to have a western-based agency place you in a program, to scam artists running several programs around the world and using the money to pay for their own family’s medical operations. Unfortunately its a case of trying to select the best of a bad bunch. On hearing similar stories repeated along my travels, I waited until I could see the set-up in Cusco and speak to some of the other volunteers first. One of a few orphanages in the city, the one I volunteered at is split into separate homes for girls and boys. Both houses were away from the city centre in regular Cusco suburbs, which in the case of the boys’ place, can be quite dangerous. It meant we got a good taste of the normal Cusco life, away from the tourist facade. The volunteers live in their own or shared apartments above the girls’ orphanage. You pay board for a basic room and breakfast and extra to cover the cost of treats for the kids, like taking them out for activities. The volunteers come from mixed countries and while I was there, we had people from Belgium, England, Israel, Poland and Australia.

At the orphanage, the 8 girls were 4-16 years old and by coincidence were 4 pairs of sisters. It was the girls’ parents’ circumstances, such as lack of money or being in jail, which meant they were unable to stay at home. They had been living at the orphanage with their foster mum since they were very young and were quite open and receptive to new volunteers. Even on first arriving, the girls would all come and give you a welcome kiss, and immediately refer to you as ‘hermano’ (brother).

The 20 odd boys on the other hand were between 5 and 21 and had much more disturbed backgrounds. Some had been in trouble with the law and sent to the orphanage by the courts. Some had been living on the streets, or were from gangs in small towns in the Amazon. Some had been physically or sexually abused by family members while others were drug addicts and needed to be relocated to break their cycles. While for the most part their behaviour was quite regular, they would sometimes turn violent or even feral. Understandably, their upbringing meant the boys were always a bit unsure about new volunteers until they got to know you well enough.

For the next month, my regular day involved getting up to eat breakfast with the girls, before they went off to school and most of us volunteers went for Spanish lessons in town for a few hours. We would usually meet up for lunch, often sitting in one of the picturesque plazas and soaking up the warming, winter sun. We would then head over to the boys’ home in the afternoon to hang out go down to the local concrete field to play a game of football. The boys had more varied schedules than the girls, as some of them were only at school a couple of days a week, while one or two didn’t go at all. This was usually as they were not at the normal education level for their age and had to do some home-tutoring. As with most Latin Americans, the boys absolutely loved football. While most days we made up our own teams to play, on some occasions we got a side together to play some local men for the court, and the boys played above well above their ages. We also gave the kids some basic English lessons on some afternoons.

When it got dark, we would head back and help the girls out with their homework and either eat dinner with them, or cook something ourselves. Being a local neighbourhood, the nearby restaurants were cheap, no-frills joints. You could get a quarter roast chicken and chips with a salad for around $2. After dinner we’d often play some games or watch a movie with the girls before doing our own homework for Spanish and crashing early.

As my Spanish improved it obviously became easier to communicate and interact with the kids. The best thing about studying the native language while overseas is every situation is another opportunity to practice. A trip to the market or a meal out is another chance to put to use what you’ve just been taught. It also helped that our Spanish school was very relaxed, the teachers were great fun, and they organised movie or dinner nights each week. It was such a feeling of accomplishment and so foreign to me when I could sit in a park and have a general conversation with a local in a language other than English.

On the weekends we would get the boys and girls together and do some sort of special activity. Sometimes we would go for a picnic in the hills behind the city, or take them to the local amusement park with slides and swings. We also took them to the local swimming pool and gave those who didn’t know how some basic swimming lessons. When one of the kids’ birthdays came up, we celebrated with a piñata, a cake and all put in to buy them a present. Another activity was going along to watch one Cusco’s most important street festivals, Corpus Cristi. The one event the boys absolutely loved was when we arranged to take them to one of the main bars to watch the televised Champions League final between Manchester United and Chelsea. Despite some rude Israeli tourists deliberately stealing their seats (and saying they didn’t care if they were orphans’ seats), the boys were enthralled with the match that went to a nail-biting penalty shoot-out.

Most Saturday nights the volunteers would go into town and meet up with our Spanish teachers and the rest of our class for drinks at one of the lively clubs. Thankfully we were able to sleep in on Sunday mornings, when the kids were all taken to church. I’d usually make a late-morning trip to Jacks- our favourite breakfast place from when Jimmy and Damo were with me.

After an exhausting but enjoyable month at the orphanage it was time for me to head off. On my last weekend we took the kids for one last day at the rides park, and I gave the boys some boxing gloves and a new football as a departing gift. They then presented me with a wooden ship in bottle that they had carefully made by hand. They all wanted to know when I would be coming back to visit them in the future. Between them opening up over the month and my improved Spanish, I really forged a close bond with several of the boys. I got to discover some great qualities they had initially kept hidden, and at the end it was harder to say goodbye to the boys than it was the girls.

At home that night I gave the girls some hula-hoops, hair accessories and lollies and they put on a dance display to show their thanks. One of the girls wrote down all their names and the address so I could write to them and they all gave ‘hermano Tom’ a group hug.

While I have no illusions about having provided a miraculous change to those kids’ lives, I’d like to think I did enrich them for a short period, as they did to mine. It was certainly the most rewarding thing I’ve done on this trip, and one of the most rewarding periods of my life.

If you want to see some of the boys from the orphanage performing in a funny take on music video to ´Land Down Under´ with some previous volunteers, follow this link-
http://youtube.com/watch?v=C75_9H3aQbI

Huanchaco
After another month of being at altitude, I was glad to return to coastal Lima, via a scenic flight from the Andes. On arrival, I took a bus north up to Trujillo and selected the top row, seat
which provided not only a good vantage point for the trip up the coast but also the winning ticket for the regular on-board bingo game. I was glad my Spanish numbers were accurate and my handy prize was a free return ticket to Lima, as well as grins from the local passengers. A few hours later, we arrived in the city of Trujillo and I took a cab ride over to the small fishing/ surf town of Huanchaco. After giving my cab driver a push-start to get him back on his way, I found a basic room in a ‘hospedaje’. It was only a few blocks from the beach, and a welcoming local guy with a mullet hairdo worked at the restaurant there. When he finished work, “Memo” and his mate took me for a quick tour of the chilled beach-front surf bars. In the morning I arranged to hire one of the surf shop owners’ brand new personal board for a bargain price. The town’s local fishermen have been using the same simple reed boats for centuries, made from the harvested reeds along the shoreline. They paddle out to sea to fish and ride the waves back to the beach with their catch. After a few weeks, the reeds soak up too much water and the boats need to be stood up to dry out, so the beach is lined with drying reed boats. Recently the town’s newest industry still makes use of the ocean, but in a less traditional way. Learn to surf schools have popped up around town, making for an interesting mix of the old and new way of life in the town.

For a week, I revelled being back in the relaxed surf lifestyle once again. I surfed when the wind and tide agreed with the swell, and went for a run if they didn’t. Most days there was a game from the Euro 2008 Cup on, so tourists and locals alike were glued to the tv screen. Renowned for some of the best seafood on the continent, I had some incredible meals in Huanchaco. The cevichi melted in your mouth and the ‘chicharron’ (fried pieces of fish or calamari) were amazing. At night time, I went for drinks with Memo and his mates, and got enough sleep to be up for a surf check in the morning.

In between the tough schedule, my final week provided some time to reflect on what had been an incredible time in Latin America and prepare for the next phase of the trip; my re-entry into ‘normal life’. The only reason I wasn’t more depressed to leave South America, is the knowledge that we have only “done” part of the huge continent and what is left to cover promises to be at least as good, if not better, than what we’ve already seen. I can’t wait for part 2 of the adventure!

Highlight(s)
There were several of note in this leg of the trip, including:
1. Being back together with both my brothers and doing the famous Inca Trail Trek was simply amazing. Our prized final day spent at Machu Picchu will be one of the fondest memories of my life, and
2. Spending time with the kids at the orphanages was so rewarding and it changed my perspective on what’s truly important in life, and being able to learn some Spanish while there was a real bonus.

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Photos

Lake Titicaca Floating Islands
Sitting above 20m of water

Local Peruvians
Jimmy and I looking the part with our host family

Isla de Tequile
A local man looks out over his traditional island

Lake Titicaca Sunrise
From the Puno bus terminal roof

Beer O´clock
The first time in 2 years with all 3 of us

Hostel Beers
With Mick and Kate

Cusco at Night
The beautiful Plaza de Armas

Saqsawayman
The Inca ruins, just above Cusco and with the memorable name

Fresh Legs
Getting our gear ready to start the trek

Inca Trail Start
In dispute about where to from here

Inca Ruins
Along the trail on day 1

Lunch with a View
On ´Moving Day´- day 2´s climb up Dead Woman´s Pass

Celebrating at the Top
Getting our breath back at the top of the pass- 4,215m

Descending the Inca Steps
Jimmy stops to feel the burn

Afternoon View
Towards the end of day 3

Well Earnt Beers
Its all downhill from here, at the end of day 3

The Last Supper
Our group in the ´dining tent´

Morning View
The fog begins to lift from Machu Picchu, with Huayna Picchu standing tall behind.

Postcard Day at Machu Picchu
The gold at the end of the fog

Admiring the View
Looking down into the valley from Huayna Picchu

Trusting the Inca´s Stone Work
Dangling my feet from Huayna Picchu

Last Night in Cusco
Getting a rare empty moment in the famous Inca stone-wall alley

Scanning for Condors
On the look-out at the Colca Canyon

Nazca Lines
Flying above The Spider

Huacachina
The view of the town from the top of ´Jaws¨

Riding ´Jaws´
That little black figure is me, halfway down the face of ´Jaws´

Lagoon View
You can see the outline of people on the ridge, like ants

Lima Riot Control
Jimmy makes friends with the driver of this beast

Last Night
Jimmy and I finishing as we started our trip, at a Brazilian bar with a Caipirinha in hand

The Last Supper
Our delicious feed at Astrid y Gaston

The Girls
Crowding around ´hermano Tom´ for a photo

Football with the Boys
With a pitch-invading llama

Guinea Pig Anyone?
´Cuy´, the Andean Peruvian delicacy

Corpus Cristi
Another big celebration in Cusco

Cusco Hills
Some of the boys after we scaled one of the surrounding hills

Cusco Club
A night out with our Spanish group

´Suicide Shower´
The Latin American design that strangely hasn´t taken off around the world. Don´t think about opening the window either- that´s where its earthed to!

Flying into Lima
The view of the Andes meeting the coastal fog

Cruz del Sur Bus
My winning ride

Surf Check
The main break at Huanchaco

Huanchaco
The reed-fishing boats drying on the beach

Toilet Sign
No translation required