Sand in my undies

08 de Septiembre

Sand. Very sandy

Lima, day 1

Arriving in Lima on a Friday, and as our uncanny luck would have it, today was a feast day and hence a public holiday. This is now the third city, after Bogota and Quito where we have unknowingly arrived on such a day, where things are closed and services not readily available. To be honest, this time it really only affected us laundry wise, as instead of having to dump our dirties down the street, we instead had to trudge across town with a smelly load to any laundry that was open.

We had a look around Lima during the day, which was very pleasant as finally the sun was out, so the shorts came back on. This was partly due to the fact that we had no other clean clothes and recyclable shopping bags were being considered for undies at that time. Lima has loads of parks, more per city than we have seen so far in South America, and the locals and tourists alike make use of them well. At night, we took a taxi to the airport, an eye opening ride through some of Lima’s bustling and dodgy neighbourhoods, to pick up Kylie’s sister Nicole, who packed with Twisties and Aussie snacks, was ready to join us for three weeks travelling through Peru.

The catapult would be truly tested once the man in the middle left.

The christian martians would come to earth to force their message

The girl took Special Day a little too literally

We stayed in Miraflores, the nicer, wealthier and considerably crime free part of Lima. The open streets lead into the Larco Mar area of the city, a waterfront development of restaurants and shopping dug into the cliff face. It’s also a bit pricier here but the quality of food the Peruvians are famous for is on show, and worth the extra cost. Food quality is an easy way to save money when travelling but the tedium of the menu of the day with chicken and rice and questionable salads of ingredients that are only likely to be part of rock gardens entices us to spend that little bit more and enjoy some extra taste.

We stayed at a lovely little homely hostel smack in the centre of Miraflores, and the night man Raul had become our favourite Peruvian. He always made sure we were fed and watered daily, gave us shopping tips, including directions to a store that sold Cadburys chocolate, so so difficult to find in South America. (We have since found a corner store in Arequipa that sells five types of Cadburys and Tim Tams!!) . Raul also loved a chat. He spoke no English, but conversed in Spanish, asking us all sorts of questions about us and our lives. He was that type of person who would sit on the couch, elbow on knee, fist on chin, wide eyed with wonder and amazement at your tales, asking “And then what happened?” His shift would finish at 10am every morning, but he waited around for us til noon on the day we checked out to say goodbye.

On the way out, we finally found some new sunglasses for Kylie, her last pair were reconstructed using band aids from the first aid kit. Sunglasses are very expensive here, for quality ones. We finally found a shop that was having a sale, and grabbed a good deal on the pair, and I even availed of a free clean to my pair from the assistant. Now the scratches are even clearer.

Peruvian hairless dog..begging for pizza. He is also very suspicious

Wildlife in Paracas could be very ugly

The next morning we made our way to Paracas, a tiny town on the coast, famous for being the hop on point for the natural wonders of the national park, but also for not being affected by quite a devastating earthquake in 2007. 40km up the road, a city named Pisco was nearly wiped off the map, the ruins are evidently fresh, as approximately 80% of the place was flattened, and scores were killed. Our hosts in Lima advised us in no uncertain terms not to spend the night there, and to move further south to Paracas. 

The dune buggy originally had windows before the trip started

Sandboarding. Not so fun without sand boards.

The Hamburgler would slide away with the takeaway loot

Sandboarding. You're doing it wrong.

It was here we met Alberto, now our favourite Peruvian. Alberto is the owner of the hostel we stayed in, seconds from the beach, with the most incredibly comfortable mattresses we have laid down on during our trip so far. He was very helpful in arranging our day trips and onward travel and also directed us to the bar with the best Pisco Sours in town.

Peru is also famous for the Peruvian Hairless dogs. From a distance they look silky smooth and a creature you just want to run baby oil over, but on closer inspection they feel like sandpaper on legs. But they also like pizza, as one did one night out for dinner, he joined us at our table and shared a large Hawaiian.

Early next morning we took a boat trip to the Ballestas Islands, a unique formation of rocks where parts of the sky above turn black such is the density of birds, Peruvian Boobies, that feed in the local waters. Its quite a sight to see them all dart haphazardly into the sea to claim their catches. We also encountered sea lions, being lazy as usual, cool carvings into the side of the rocks and lunar like landscapes that no one can yet explain. We also visited the national park, consisting of desert landscapes and ancient fossils and are a place where the only storms it sees annually are frequent sand ones. It also has many ice cream sellers, and even after an hours drive through the desert, you will always manage to find a little chap dressed in yellow with a bicycle cart full of delightful choc mint sandwiches.

Taxi drivers love to chat here, and love to show you their town. We had the adventurous experience of a local man, who having lost his house and some family members in the Pisco disaster aforementioned, moved to Paracas to operate a taxi. He picked us up in town to drive us to a crossroad, where we would catch a bus to another destination. ) At this crossroad Nicky found fifty soles (about $20), so it was a good day).  The cabbie, while hurtling down the desert highway a few clicks under a hundred, decided to show us some sights of the area. Unfortunately, these sights were actually photos in a folder he had, as he leant over to the dash on my passenger side, pulled out the folder, opened it, and with two hands on the folder, and none on the wheel, proceeded to point out the sights in his lovely photographs, all the while the taxi veered over to the other side of the road, towards quite a large oncoming bus. I mentioned calmly to him that he may like to consider concentrating on the road ahead instead of places where we can see wildlife, and for half a second he did, as he corrected the car with one hand, flew by the bus, and continued his hands free driving tourist promotion demonstration. Turns out he was showing us this not to try and sell us something, except perhaps a gravestone we may need soon, but only because he was mighty proud of this region he was born and bred in, and the natural beauties that still remained in this area, belonging to him and his people, and what was left after the devastation of years gone by.

Safely, we made it to the crossroads and boarded a bus to Ica, where the cabbie from the bus station tried to sell us tours and hostels for our next destination, the sand boarding mecca of Huacachina.

Huacachina is literally an oasis in the middle of the desert. A small lagoon in a valley of giant imposing sand dunes, surrounded by backpacker hostels and a few decent restaurants with excellent Pisco Sour happy hours. The main purpose to come here is to enjoy adventure activities, most notably, sand boarding, and hooning through the sand in dune buggies. We did both, firstly, we were picked up late in the afternoon, and for half an hour or so, the brave driver smashed up the sand, flying over the mounds of sand, our guts receding inwards as we descended, landing front wheels first only to bounce back up in a violent thrust, laughing in terror “More more more!!!” We would then stop atop a sand dune, and inspect the journey below us. Sandboards and wax were provided, to only add to the speed and thrill. The first couple of attempts on my feet down the seemingly right angled edifice did not go according to plan, unless that plan is to fall face first into the desert and end up on your arse soon after. Upon seeing this, the girls decided that the better, safer, and faster way was to head down the slopes head first, lying flat on the sandboard. They had great success and enjoyment in this, and in unofficial competition results, were the best of the group. I eventually kept by feet steady and continued on the traditional way. The evening ended with a magnificent moment by the sunset, looking over the oasis, sandy haired and tasting granules of sand, but having enjoyed our adventure

The photo would be used as crucial evidence against the hit and run driver

When not imbibing in sand based activities, there isn’t much else to do in the town. As all the buses south depart at night, we spent a day hanging around a hostel bar restaurant, enjoying the menu and necking a few ice cold beers, then took the bus to Arequipa later that evening

Its pretty clear what you are going to get when you ask to see the menu.

Arequipa is Peru’s second largest city, but possibly its most beautiful. Founded in the 1500’s, its buildings and sights are made of volcanic sillar white rock, and everything is strikingly beautiful here. Parts of the Andes mountain range form a staggeringly beautiful backdrop of snow capped peaks and rugged mountains.

Traditions are kept, especially in buildings and storefronts, where every business must have signage that matches the feel of the city. Even McDonalds have had to ditch the golden arches, similar to the Champs de Elysees in Paris, they must be white.

We stayed in a hostel/Irish bar in Santa Catalina in the middle of the city. As the hostel was run by Irish, we finally had a proper breakky fry up, with real sausages! The sausages we have had so far in South America are similar to the ones you tend to get from 7 Elevens all around the world, the ones that are cooked at lunchtime, but have been sitting there all day in tepid water only to be picked up by many drunks over the night and finally purchased at 4am for about $5. So it was a real treat to have this, as well as other favourites such as chips and gravy and pork chops with mashed potatoes. But no Guinness yet. 

The three little pigs had to move to more remote locations to escape the wolf

The nuclear explosion didn't have quite the expected impact

Like the editor of this blog, the graffiti artist was bereft of ideas.

The pot plant wasn't too good at hide and seek

The nuns would be keen to speak to the town mayor who promised  a red light avenue but got it wrong.

Santa Catalina is almost like a walled city within a city. The nuns in the 1500’s built the place, such tireless workers they must have been, but it wasn't for any woman of the cloth, you had to be fairly rich to get in. Once you entered, you could never leave. The nuns were shut off from the outside world and could only communicate with visitors through wooden portals cut into the volcanic walls. They were relatively self sufficient except for the weekly delivery from the local bottle shop. However, it’s a good idea to do some research into this place before visiting. By means of printed guides and the human sort, the monastery is promoted as a lovely wonderful holier than though place, but the ordinary Arequipeno will tell you that it was also the quite the place of excess, where nuns would often have slaves and servants, and wore the best clothes of the day (I’m sure black and white habits were pretty trendy back then) and were also not averse to a bit of grog and five star food for the time. The brochures described their living quarters as cells, but they were hardly such, as they were very roomy with all the mod cons of the day, fully furnished, with more than what the average well to do person at the time would be used to. 

Not sure if these are birds, or a bunch of little m's

Eltonio John, Perus most popular singer had a hit album " Candle In the Sand"

Henry had made it to Peru, laziness in tact

The condor would soon leave his nagging wife

And he did...

A few years back, a bunch of scientists and archaeologists trekked the volcano Ampato that towers over Arequipa, to check out stuff relating to volcanoes, presumably stuff about ash and shit. What they found though, was quite amazing. Four mummified and superbly preserved bodies of children, dating back to the 1400-1500’s. The Incas would sacrifice children every time there was a volcano. They believed that God was cracking the shits with them and very angry, so to appease the Man, they offered human sacrifice. They would walk up to six months from Cusco, climb the 6000m peaks, and bury the child, usually twelve to fourteen years old, with all the belongings sacred to a teenager, such as gold toys, trinkets and Justin Beiber CD’s. One such child, a girl named Juanita, is on display at the local museum, and we went to check her ugly frozen face out.

Juanita would be the most popular centrefold in Playboys necrophilia special edition

The region is famous for its canyons, two of which are the deepest in the world. One such is the Colca Canyon, also famous for its condors, like a classic 80’s movie, Condorman, also famous for its Condors. Check it out, see how low Michael Crawford, famed opera singer went early in his career.

The day trek to the canyon was a very looong day. We awoke a snippet after 2am, after not a great night of sleep, thanks partly to the staffs decision to allow to girls to scrape the tiles in front of our room late at night and a drunken Irish guest offering half eaten burgers to anyone that past while the best of Queen was playing on the stereo. There was a 3-hour bus ride, but as the sun rose over the magnificence of the Andes, you felt that there was never more a reason to have awoken so early, such was the view.

It was also quite a climb into altitude, and Kylie unfortunately felt the nasty effects of what is Altitude Sickness, or Soroche as the locals call it. Looking the worse for wear, it was time for Kylie to pop a few pills for the sickness, Diamox pills recommended by pretty much every doctor worldwide. However, our guide Roy, a young lad from the Colca region, was having none of that, and his treatment he administered was a little unorthodox, one might say. He pulled out a bottle of 97% alcohol, cupped some into his hands, and lowered Kylies face into them, getting her to sniff them, presumable to knock her out so she would completely forget about altitude sickness and simply remain passed out like a Mexican at a tequila bar. Then he proceeded to wash her face in the booze!! What the fuck???  While Kylie was coughing and spluttering and trying her best just to stay alive, the bus hit a bump and then most of the front few rows copped a serving of spirit too, leaving the bus and its passengers smelling like a university dorm room. Not surprisingly, this odd “But Miss Kylie, this works all the time” method did not in fact work, nor did the cocoa leaves or oregano tea, and only on return to lower altitudes of Arequipa did Kylie begin to recover.

The drive back was surreally scenic, driving past Inca sites and continuing deeper into the Andes, past local villages full of smiling citizens in traditional dress, herding llama and alpacas, and the cooler looking vicunas, who are the result of a daddy llama and mummy alpaca’s liaison. It was here we felt like we were in the real Peru, in amongst it all.

We stopped for lunch in Chivay town, where I tried Alpaca, which is absolutely delicious. It was done with potatoes in a stew, thin strips of baby alpaca, so so delectable. Apologies to the family of this animal, but your child wont be forgotten.

Empty buggies were sent to collect the dead tourists