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Published: June 30th 2006
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Somehow I have been away from home for one month now. I flew into Deepest Darkest Lima on May 20th. Lima, the City of Viceroys, is a big crowded city with many a stranded traveller telling tall tales of theft and debauchery. I stayed for two nights, taking in the city centre, and loving the mad skull and bone gardens in the catacombs. As my first taste of South America I felt slightly relieved at getting over the first hurdle. But the severe inequalities within the city were an eye-opener. As the Peruvian elections were coming up I saw a few demonstrations. Both candidates seemed to present more problems than solutions: Alan Garcia was an ex-president who had embezzled millions, and who had caused inflation to top 10,000%, and Ollanta Humala was suspected of having plans for creating a dictatorship and jeopardizing Peru ‘s economy by opposing American hegemony. Garcia eventually won, but I smell a bit negative voting…
Next I journeyed overnight to Huaraz, the provincial capital of the Santa Valley. Having been devastated by an earthquake in 1970, Huaraz is a very nice wee place, and is the base for excursions into the Cordillera Blanca mountains (famous for
the films Alive and Touching the Void) and the pre-Inca ruins in Chavin. I decided to take the tour to Chavin, and after managing somehow to book this I was invited to “go dancing” by the tour operator. Needless to say my Awkward Scottish Shuffle Dance was destined to come out at some point. So I accepted. After driving around the hills trying to find this party we finally made it, and gave the secret knock. To everyone’s fascination I was the only Gringo. After a few drinks the language barrier was conquered in the only way we knew how: by making absolutely no sense to each other.
The Chavin tour the following day was very interesting. It was set between mountains featured on one of the Café Direct packets. Those pre-Inca cats were jolly smart.
I then travelled to the desert oasis of Huacachina, near Ica. From there I took a dune buggy ride into the desert, and did a spot of sand-boarding. Much fun. Sand everywhere.
Then I was off to Pisco. The trip there was very depressing: travelling along the sparse desert riddled with poverty. Pisco itself was a pretty grotty place. But strangely
enough we stayed in the best hostel I’ve ever been to…. But it was desserted. However, Pisco did offer the chance of the taking the tour of the Ballestos Islands, the “Poor Man’s Galapagos Islands”. On the boat we got pretty close to seals and the guano-producing birds on the small islands. We also headed to Paracas, the National Park.
The decision to flee came suddenly. We made our way to the colonial town of Arequipa. All the buildings are white due to them being made of volcanic rock, and have a certain grandeur. Arequipa is a lovely place to walk about, and has many nice bars and restaurants. From there we took a tour to the Colca Canyon, the world’s second deepest canyon, and natural habitat of Peru’s sacred bird, the condor. The tour guide was a legend. Or should I say a huge sleaze?! The whole trip was stunning, and was more proof that altitude (we climbed to over 5000 metres) has no effect on this Man. The coca tea may’ve helped with this though. One sees many of the Quechua-speaking Inca descendants chewing on coca leaves. This is potentially one of Peru‘s largest exports but I
guess it’s misuse has become a bit of a problem. The Quechua-speaking population seems to account for the majority of those living below the poverty line. There seems to be much exploitation of this section of the population by wealthy landowners, for whom the almighty dollar is paramount.
From Arequipa we ventured overnight (with only one four-hour delay due to the bus breaking down) to Urubamba in the Sacred Valley. This is a breathtaking valley outside of Cuzco. We were lucky enough to get free accommodation in the volunteers’ house in Urubamba… which was just as well because I suffered my first waves of the infamous Peruvian Belly. After sleeping for 24 hours I was a bit better. Needless to say I fast-tracked my way back to the booze. Which may or may not have been a good decision. But my time was well-spent: I made trips to salt mines, various ruins around the Sacred Valley, and of course many pubs to watch World Cup matches.
Next we made our way to the ancient Inca capital of Cuzco. This place is amazing. Apart from the gorgeous colonial and Inca architecture, I’ve never seen such a concentration of lovely little
restaurants and bars in all my life! We are currently staying in a converted old farmhouse overlooking the city. I had my first-ever trip on horse-back. I was a natural. We visited Sacsayhuaman (Sexy Woman), the teeth of the puma that Cuzco is shaped in the image of. Next I went paragliding. This is apparently the closest thing to being a bird. And it didn’t disappoint.
Next it was the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu. This four day hike is probably the most famous hike/archeological site in all of the Americas. The hike took us through cloud forests, jungle, and ancient Inca ruins. We camped on all three nights. Our tents were set up, and our meals cooked, by several porters. These guys were incredible human beings. They ran up the mountains as we slogged it out, and had our beautifully-presented dinner on the table for us on arrival. Our tour guide was also some guy- Oscar was a knowledgeable and interesting man of supreme patience and experience. Machu Picchu itself was spectacular. Centuries old, it was the jewel in the Inca crown, and somehow kept a secret from the Spanish Conquistadors. Its location is breathtaking (literally) and the
layout provides a vivid idea of how this society lived and operated. The sheer scale of the city demonstrates the extent of the genius of these people, and there are many hints of knowledges centuries ahead of its time.
After this beast of a treck we found refuge in the natural springs in the town below to help ease our muscles. Phew. Then we headed back to Cuzco, where we are now. A few days of recovery and drinking are required before we think about moving on. So that’s the story (although it only scratches the surface) of my first month abroad. One down, eleven to go.
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Caitlin
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Your lovin' the Super Dry top eh?! All looks beautiful though funnily enough you remain consistently ugly, hmmmm