At a low ebb...

Feeling sick. Everybody´s on strike. And no, man on the street in La Paz, I do not want to buy a fucking fossil from you.

Apologies for the profanity but I´m feeling very vulnerable, homesick and a million miles from things that are familiar. sob.

Deepest Darkest Peru: No Bears in Wellingtons in Sight…

Arrived in Lima, the airport was utter pandemonium. Little would I know that that would be one of my fondest memories of the city. Apologies to the 8 million residents of Lima but your city is, for the most part, a scary, ugly, dirty place.

The hostel did little to improve my outlook. Hostal Jose Luis is not for the faint of heart let me tell you. As there were no double rooms we were given an entire dormitory to ourselves: 8 beds and not one decent mattress, plus it smelt like damp dogs, sweaty socks and regret. Oh, and there is no situation that a fluorescent strip light can’t make 4 times more depressing.

The momentous decision was made – we were going to go OFF SPREADSHEET (eeek!), and so we skipped out early from Lima and got on the first fast bus to Nasca, a wonderful, sunny, delightful, gently chaotic place. The main attraction here is the Nasca Lines: huge parallel lines, geometric shapes, bird and animal figures, and odd things like an alien figure and a pair of hands cut into the desert floor. There are lots of theories about what their purpose was but as they are best seen from the air it makes sense that they were messages to the gods from Nasca people. Or it was aliens.

Anyway, as I said, the best way to see the lines is from the air, from a tiny 5 person plane to be precise:
Not an activity for the nervous flyer really.










Here’s another reason why Nasca is so fab:












The next stop was to be Arequipa, but we had to go back to Lima to get the flight. I’m not ashamed to admit I had a princess moment and refused to go back there unless I was staying at the Sheraton. I am what I am.

Arequipa is sunny, lovely, friendly, gorgeous - a very relaxing and enjoyable few days there. The most interesting part of Arequipa is the Santa Catalina Convent, really a walled city within a city.

In the 15th – 18th centuries the wealthy Spanish families would send their daughters off to this beautiful convent complete with an entourage of servants, luxury goods and furniture and, if rumors are to believed, a burning desire to be bad, bad girls. Because of the secretive nature of the sealed-in community, and because people are always willing to believe the worst of other people, gossip of wanton behavior and orgies abounded. There are still about 30 or so remaining nuns in the convent but I’m fairly confident they are more, well, nunnish these days.

On a religious note, I saw the most unusual thing going on in the Plaza del Armas (just how many of these ARE there in South America???). Some form of religious festival was taking place, and walking through the crowds were what I can only describe as “Drive-Through Communion Squads”. One school girl holding a big sign with “Communion” written on it, one Priest to give out the Host, and one support Nun. You could flag them down, receive communion and be on your way within 10 seconds. Perfect for today’s busy devout Catholic on the go.

An observance on the tastes of Peru: the confection of choice here seems to be a Saltines type cracker covered in chocolate. I can only conclude that the people of Peru must be in a constant state of PMS.

Colca Canyon. Took a tedious gravel-road bus journey to Chivay with the intention of going to look at some condors the next morning. There was a pretty walk out to the thermal baths, but it was slightly marred by the dog in heat that followed us, all the while receiving the “attentions” of a few of the randy male dog population of the town. Nice. After an unspeakably cold night we decided we simply couldn’t be arsed with condors, certainly not on a 5am bus, so went directly back to Arequipa. Just because Lonely Planet says it’s good don’t necessarily make it so.

On to Cusco, the ancient Inca capital, where they know how to have a knees-up! “Party, party, party” seems to be the town motto, but I think that’s mainly because it was Inti Raymi, the Inca festival of Winter Solstice (see how I educate you people?). Cusco is another gorgeous town and I really appreciated its beauty when I wasn’t gasping for air (altitude 10,860 feet, 3,310 meters).

Randomly ran into Vicky (Aston MAS 1998 alumni!) and Liz, who had been on the boat with us in the Galapagos, so had a good evening out with them. You can’t beat a bit of Brummie humour I tell you!

Currently in Aguas Calientes, and will, in theory, be gazing in wonder at the mysteries of Macchu Picchu tomorrow morning. However it is PISSING DOWN with rain right now with fog at eye level, and if this continues all we will be seeing is damp Alpacas. I shall keep you informed.

A final musing:
Why oh why do certain types of travelers insist on buying supposedly national costume items of clothing and thinking that’s how they’ll “blend”. I have not seen ONE SINGLE Peruvian wearing stripy pajama bottom type trousers apart from when they’re dancing in a festival. It would be like visitors to England wearing a Morris Dancer costume and thinking they are indistinguishable from the locals.

Who needs a passport anyway...

Hijo de puta, pinche ladron!
What an "interesting" few days this has been... Off to Riobamba we went to ride the Devil's Nose train (Erin, that was a coincidence but it does score some good metal points!) along with Anna, a lovely Aussie from our Galapagos boat. You have to show your passport to buy tickets for the train, and lo and behold: no passports to be found! Same goes for tickets, driving licenses, and a festival of other low grade important documents...

Now amazingly, considering my propensity to fly into a major flap at the least provocation, I entered a "Jungle Calm" state of mind. "Everything's fine, we can get new passports and tickets no problem, we'll just go back to Quito tomorrow, let's stay in Riobamba tonight and have a few beers!" I think it was invasion of the body snatchers...

So, an early bus back to Quito the next day. Bus company motto: "Life is Cheap!" As i knew I'd have to have a new passport photo taken I was trying to apply mascara while our fearless (drunk?) bus driver took the novel approach to hairpin bends of just dropping it into 3rd gear and saying a quick Hail Mary. Tammy Faye Bakker had nothing on me.

Once in Quito we first had to file a Police report and while in the police station i realized i had left my beloved Chaco sandals on the bus. This apparently was my tipping point. Full-on sobbing breakdown in front of 5 contemptuous officers of the law. No idea why the loss of Chacos should seem worse than NOT HAVING AN EFFING PASSPORT but what can I say, i'm a complex creature. Still sniffling, we then went to the Embassy where a lovely lady told us we could have our new passports on Friday morning as long as we gave her $350. Bargain.

After all this it was decided that a night in the Four Points would be better for the soul than a hostal full of braying 18 year old Brit travelers. Let's hear it for consultants and their bank of hotel points! It was the best Four Points ever, we even got upgraded (and obviously totally abused the Executive Club privileges...). Friday was a good day: Ecuador won their World Cup match, I sourced a new pair of Chacos, and we each got a shiny new passport. Just a shame it was in the name of "Graig". Just so you know, it only takes approx 30 minutes for an Embassy to print you a new Britsh passport.

Off to Peru tonight and to be perfectly honest i'll not be sorry to see the back of Ecuador. However I will rise on the stepping stones of my dead self to higher things. Or something equally profound. I will be very interested to investigate on the rest of my South American travels if it is Latinos in general (reference point the Mexican referee in the England game today) or just Ecuadorian gentlemen who apply hair oil/gel/pomade/axle grease with such a generous hand. I have never seen so much product used in all my life - it's fascinating!


Just for johnny (and probably every other infantile humoured bloke) here's a lovely picture of some boobies.

more pics will come soon(ish)
x

Giant tortoises need love too...

Hola amigos! (and thus I have used up all of my Spanish skills...)

Back on dry land in Quito after a week on a boat in the Galapagos Islands and the world is still swaying a little - is there such a thing as land sickness? I dont think any amount of gushing and hyperbole will do the wonders of the Galapagos justice, but for you lucky people I will give it my best shot.

15 of us boarded the Estrella del Mar in San Cristobal, and is wasn´t until that point that I really thought about the enforced sociability that a week at sea would entail. Luckily it was a very interesting and diverse group of people, not a gang of bird-spotting pensioners. Plus, the added bonus that our Naturalist and Guide Juan Carlos was totally dreamy (call me JC!)... The day finished on a fantastic high note, swimming with some playful young sea-lions. I am at one with nature.

Some edited highlights of the trip: sealions, watching Waved Albatrosses land (it´s harder than you´d think), a Blue Footed Boobie family complete with 10 day old insanely fluffy chick, sealions, marine iguanas having a group hug, watching sealions hunting flying fish with white tip sharks lurking ominously beneath them, swimming with Galapoagos penguins, chilling out with turtles, sealions, having a pelican dive underwater for a fish 3 feet in front of me while snorkelling, witnessing a colony of giant tortoises get the collective horn ( the males don´t always manage to mount the right end, but they seem to enjoy it anyway), sealions, and watching a perfectly spherical American lady get boosted over the top of a horse and hitting the deck with some impressive commando rolls (yes, I know I´m a bad person, but i laughed myself sick at that one).

An observation about the Galapagos Islands: whenever you run into another boat group it seems to be the rule that there has to be an old bloke with a white beard and an enormous telephoto lens camera straggling at the back. And the Thomson equation remains true:
Socks + Sandals = Beard.

OK then, must go and pick up my laundry. I´m sitting here in my best dress as everything else was filthy and smelled like sealions (look cute, smell like ass). Off to Riobamba later today to ride the Devil´s Nose train on the roof. Sincerely hope it stops effing raining.

x