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Published: July 31st 2011
This I think will be my final set of blogs, and as Jo has just noted on here, I´ve been enjoying myself far too much to remember that I should be on here telling you guys about it all!
My last few days in Argentina were reserved for friends; saying goodbye and promising them that I´ll stay in touch. I´m not usually all that sentimental but I certainly felt more disconnected once I left, and I missed them all after a couple of days. Over the months, I´d been lucky enough to accumulate a number of great friends and contacts, and I´ll always be thankful for that. I was assured by Celeste and Mikaela that the kids would miss me, and my last couple of lessons I think confirmed that for me- we didn´t study too much the material, just talked about what we would all do next. For myself, more travelling was in store: first Chile and then Peru. I had actually been to Chile about a month before my leaving Argentina, but it was a visa trip in which I forgot my camera. I was holed up in an apartment which, despite having great views of the Andes,
was pretty boring for me. Nice hosts though; making sure I got on the right bus and feeding me every morning :P
So, I´ll start my tale from San Luis, where I had been for the last 4 months. I had organised the trip onward with my new family and a friend of a friend who worked at a travel agency in Mendoza. My new family consisted of my mate David, who I´d been having lessons with for about 3 months, his mum and dad and four dogs. These ones decided I was okay and didn´t chase me down the street. The dogs I mean...
My plan was to take a series of buses from San Luis to Lima, Peru. A journey that would take about three days. I´ll just say that it was mentally and physically exhausting being on a bus for that long. There were two crying babies. When one stopped, the other continued, as if in shifts, and my sleeping suffered. Unfortunately, once again, my camera had been packed in my big bag, and that was stored out of reach, so I´m sorry that I didn´t get pictures. I´ll never forget the scenery of the
journey though- not only was it epic, but also incredibly diverse. As soon as we had crossed the pass over the Andes, where an overiding sense of smallness overcame you, we were presented with the vast, arid Atacama desert, then vegetative hillsides and water smoothed boulders. The huge mining operations of northern Chile were contrasted with true wilderness, devoid of any human interaction, while the Pacific Ocean on our left swelled and foamed so close to the road I could smell the salt. My journey would eventually bring me to the jungles of central Peru, but that was a little later. One funny thing you tend to see in South America is what people write on rocks at the roadside. On our way through the Andes, someone had written in very large letters "SEMEN" and also "KEVIN". Let us hope the first was not the latter´s surname. The border guard at the Argentina-Chile border seemed enthralled my own name. He sat for some 30 seconds looking at my passport, repeating back to himself, "Michael James Frank..." in some kind of tantric rhythm. We were later held up as some Chilean border guards had to catch a loose feral dog in
the customs area that had climbed all over the equipment.
As our bus, finally, made it´s approach into Lima, I hoped everything would be alright and that I wouldn´t get lost as I had done before. I was scheduled to be picked up by my travel company there. But, low and behold, they hadn´t arrived. Enter my future taxi driver, a short little chap with a moustache and rudimentary English- casually he waltzed over and began trying to talk with me. I understood little, other than he wanted to give me "good good price" for my "destiny" (I think he meant ´destination´ but I could be wrong). So while I looked frantically for my own driver, this man, his balding head in my face, continued to provide frankly amusing reasons for using his taxi service, such as "super-comfort" and "long wheels" (perhaps these cut travel time, I dunno)... Eventually I gave in and came to the conclusion my real driver wasn´t coming. This Mario-looking fellow can´t be too bad, he is after all wearing an identity badge. So I got in and told him the hotel address. That was a mistake.
I was used to all cabs in Argentina
and Chile having one of those electronic displays that tells you how much you owe. In Peru, those things don´t exist, you need to barter the price for all journeys before you leave. Now to be fair, I didn´t know how far away from the bus station my hotel was, it could have been miles for all I knew. It could have been, but it wasn´t: it was two blocks. I was happy to have arrived in such a short time. I was knackered. I´d been on a bus for three days and been through two rigourous border controls. All I wanted to do was sleep. All he wanted was 20 USDs. And he wasn´t letting my luggage go until he got it. "20 bucks! For that?!" So there ensued an argument and partial scuffle with a Peruvian taxi driver on my first day there. I know now well the system; always agree on the price before getting in. He accepted 15 dollars, I folded out of frustration and slumped into my hotel, a defeated man. I later received a call from my travel agency, saying they had been there, but had gotten a different time for my arrival. They
inferred they would reimburse me my green but I think they decided not to pursue it.
But so far, I think they´ve made up for that bad experience. They´ve been prompt and helpful, and I have no additional complaints, yet. Although, complaints are entertaining, I´ll try to formulate some more before I leave if they´re earned. Lima is an interesting city, perhaps overly reminiscient of it´s wealthy and priviledged past. The centre is full of monuments and baroque cathedrals, colonial buildings and, in the run-up to Peru´s national independance day, Peruvian flags. Still, amongst all this festivity and patriotism, I hear a group of workers talking ill of the political institution in the Plaza Mejor, a couple of them unsold on their prospects under the new incumbent President, Ollanta Humala.
Next, the plane from Lima to Cusco. Now, baring in mind that Peru has a characteristically poor domestic aviation safety record, I thought this was rather brave or stupid of me. But all went well. I was sat next to a Peruvian woman and her son who had just come back from teaching in New Zealand and were wanting to speak English with me. I was happy to
oblige, if only to spare the aircraft of my Spanish. Over the next few days I would visit some of the most incredible arcaeological sites in the world. The megolithic structures of Ollantaytambo, Pisco and the faintly infantile Sacsayhuaman (pronounced "sexy woman", to my continued enjoyment). The history, you could imagine, might be quite stale and repetitive, but it was in fact fascinating, rolling in interactive experiences with the indigenous communities with tours and free time to browse the local cooking and products. I recommend the experience if you have the time to come down here for a holiday.
Cusco is a very touristy city to say the least, but there are opportunities to see real Peru and real Peruvians. It might be a distasteful way of distinguishing from people outside of the tourist bubble, but real Peruvians are usually living in relative poverty. If you walk outside the city centre, where most tourist activity takes place, onto the hills as I did, you will see a great deal of this poverty. But people are still getting on with their lives. The favelas, if I can call them by that Brazilian term, are commonly perched precariously on the hillsides
surrounding Cusco. The streets are cobbled and narrow, and there are a few homeless scattered around. Perhaps the Peruvian experience that has left the greatest mark for me is not the scenery or the historical buildings, but was seeing, from my chauffered car, a man sitting at the entrance to the airport quietly crying. He looked desperate, alone, impoverished. He wasn´t looking for money, he was just sitting there, against the wall, weeping. For a moment our eyes met. I think that that memory will be with me for a very long time, and also the guilt that came with it.
On a brighter note, my being here, along with other tourists, is allowing a kind of economic support mechanism for the people in the Cusco and Machu Picchu area, and has provided the money for new schools, homes and new opportunities for these people. I travel onwards towards Aguas Calientes, the jungle and of course, Machu Pichuu, in due time. Join me soon for To the Valley of the Incas part 2.
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farawayfrank
FarawayFrank
Hey- sorry it took so long!
I´ll get the pictures up as soon as I get myself a USB cable! xx