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Published: December 1st 2005
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Nazca, what a place. Elisa and I arrived early afternoon from Huacachina and took the first persons advice after exiting the bus. Not something I normally do but we were in a hurry to get this over with and move on to Arequipa. The woman we met came with a free taxi ride and she assisted us in purchasing a night bus ticket to Arequipa before heading off to the airport. The people in Nazca must be used to such rapid travellers cause the bus station happily secured our large packs in the back office untill our return at 10:30 that evening.
The airport, and our new guide's office, wasn't that far from the bus station and she ran us through her usual routine. We were given two options; Economic - a large craft that could hold numerous people and flew at a high altitude but didn't afford much of a view. And a small plane that held 6 people (including pilot) that flew at a lower altitude, better chance of good views and only 10 USD difference in price. Of course we took the second option and were escorted to the waiting room with two others while we
waited for more passangers. None came.
Half an hour of waiting we crossed the street to the small airport and quickly boarded our insect of a plane. This was the beginning of our rushed view of the lines. There wasn't much action at the airport so in no time we were in the air and headed towards the desert and the home of the famous 'Nazca Lines'.
Our small plane rocked in the light turbulance and we quickly intercepted our first giant pictograph on the desert floor. I barely saw it and tried to snap a photo before we headed for the next one on the list. This continued on for the whole of the tour. The pilot would yell out the name of the line, point to it on the little map he had, make two quick passes, then move to the next. I soon gave up trying to line up the camera for a shot and just pointed my camera in the direction the pilot pointed and snapped some shots.
Elisa was less patient and after trying a few unsuccessful attempts at taking photos, she gave up. Not to mention, she was starting to get
motion sickness and the flight for her soon turned from viewing the lines to focussing on keeping her lunch.
This whole rushed event took about 30 minutes and we began to head back. Even with all the hype about the place and the fact that these were ancient mysteries, I still left the plane dissappointed. I guess I just felt like one more fist full of cash pushed through the tourist trap at a rapid speed. I felt used.
Now Elisa and I had about 5 hours to kill in the average town of Nazca. We began by walking towards the main square only to find it closed off for some reason. I had bought a mango from a fruit stand on the side of the road and we were in need of a place to sit. With the main plaza closed off and the both of us feeling tired and lazy, we promply sat on the curb.
I haulded out my over sized knife and began disecting the mango into two parts. We spent a few moments of silence and watched the people and the vehicles go by as the mango juice drizzled down our faces.
As we cleaned ourselves up with a wet nap, we were approached by a man with a card for a nice little pub. A beer sounded like a good idea so he directed us to his place,..... right behind us. We didn't even notice it before.
Inside we killed some time talking over a few beers. The music in the bar was a mixture of latin pop and north american pop. Elisa, being a music lover, voiced a complaint about not encountering live music in this first week in Peru.
Hunger struck us and we headed to a place recommended by Lonely Planet. Like every other restaurant catering to tourists, this one had a selection of local and international dishes. We ordered up a bottle of wine and some dinner and before we knew it, a small group of young boys entered and began playing some live music. Elisa beamed at such a coincidence and we donated some peruvian change to hear a little more before they left.
After they left, the restaurant turned the t.v. and music back up and we were again sourrounded by the contradictory noice so often encountered here in South America. Luckily
for us, after nearly completing our meal, another group of young boys entered. When they began playing for us the restaurant turned down the other racket. We paid generously to keep the boys playing and in return they showed us there instruments and tried to teach us how to play them. This encounter with the young boys burned up the rest our our wait and after saying goodbye, we headed off to our night bus and the vehicle to our next adventure.
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