August 17, 2010

After completing a three day trek of Arequipa’s Colca Canyon (the deepest canyon in the world) we returned exhausted to our hostel only to find that the owner had forgotten to reserve us a room for the night. After realising that the bus to La Paz – our next stop – left that evening at midnight, we decided to leave that night.

Unfortunately the water supply to the whole city had been turned off meaning having a wash was not an option. Lovely. Shattered and thoroughly unclean we headed for the bus station.

The journey to La Paz took a total of 18 hours and included a boat trip across Lake Titicaca mid-journey. At some point in the morning we were woken by the driver shouting in that we understood only as: “Get off the bus… get a boat across the lake… meet you the other side…” And we were off.

The town by the lake was mayhem. We later found out that it was a festival that day so all the locals were out celebrating. It took about an hour to work out where the boat was and to wait in line.

As we made our way across the water we saw a coach also being dragged across. The coaches, it turned out, were transported across on barges which were basically made up of a few wooden planks precariously nailed together.

When we reached the other side of the lake the chaos continued. Cars were choking every street, while tourists milled around in abstract confusion. We eventually established that our bus had not come across the lake yet so found solace in the nearest bar overlooking the lake. We sat here for the next couple of hours until we eventually saw our coach making its nervous way across the lake. We thought this was bad until we later spoke to the guys we’d been waiting in the bar with and heard that they’d waiting six hours for their boat to come across.

We arrived in La Paz late in the evening and caught a taxi straight to the hostel. We spent the following day exploring La Paz. The first thing that hits you in La Paz is the altitude. The city, situated 3660 metres above sea level, quite literally takes your breath away. The sprawling buildings cling to a towering mountain that dips into the nearest valley, taking the masses of buildings along with it. In the distance snow-peaked mountains poke their tips into view. Every winding street is a hill; the Cathedral’s foundations push out of the ground, towering about your head as you pass by, in a desperate attempt to create a flat surface on which to build the structure. Indeed, the main entrance to the Cathedral is 12 metres higher than its base at the other end of the building.

We spent our first day discovering the infamous ‘Witches Market’. Llama foetuses litter the stalls, creating a deeply unpleasant stench as you passed by. We also used our time in the city centre to book up one activity we were both keep to undertake: Death Road.

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August 2, 2010

The afternoon after visiting the Nazca Lines, we caught yet another bus towards the Maria Reiche Museum. Maria Reiche was the woman who discovered the Lines and spent her life working on the mystery of precisely they were, and why they were there. The museum was in the house she used to live in and was basically maade up of all her clutter and sketches.

It was amazing to see how she had dedicated her entire life (from the age of 20 until she died at about 80) to discovering the secret behind the Lines. She spent everyday working in the desert, and didn’t receive any funding for her work until she was about 70 years old and the rest of the world realised the significance of the Lines and, in 1994, classed the site a Unesco World Heritage Site.

After this our museum guide, Alex, took us to a small village opposite the museum. At first we felt very intrusive, effectively looking at these people’s lives as though they were a tourist attraction. But they were just so welcoming. The houses were basically mud huts and every yard was full of animals. The mot incredible thing about the village was the children.

It seems that the South American family doesn’t centre around the children as much as in a western family – the kids are literally given attention if and when there parents have time. The village really opened our eyes into how Peru really is – we finally got off the Gringo Trail (what the locals call the local trail followed by white, western tourists) and saw something real.

By the time we (Camilla, I and a girl called Myra we had met at the hostel that morning) got the bus home, we were filthy and covered in desert dust. Unfortunately we’d booked out of our rooms that morning as we were getting the 11pm night bus (12 hour journey) to Arequipa that evening.

We had dinner at the first place we saw in Nazca before having a serious baby wipe wash in the toilet at the hostel and lazing around in the lounge until our bus.

Nazca was a short stop – but a brilliant one.

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July 30, 2010

An Example of the Nazca Lines

After a couple of hours bus ride from Huaccuchina, we arrived in Nazca early in the evening. Resisting the attempts of a local agent to lure us to her “new, not in the guide book yet” hotel, we took a taxi to the hostel we’d chosen: The Walk On Inn. When we arrived we were absolutely exhausted and the hostel, with it’s cosy lounge, free Coca Tea (Peruvian tea which is supposed to help with altitude sickness), free book swap, free internet access, piles of lonely planet guide books to brouse through and super friendly staff, was exactly what we needed! I’m aware that I sound like an advert here, but it really was an awesome place… and it had hot water to boot. Wow, quite a scarce commodoty in Peru.

We headed out to dinner that evening and found Nazca to be exactly as described: a nice place with nothing much to it. Until the Nazca lines were discovered in the late 1930s, Nazca was literally a ghost town. The Nazca Lines remain the one and only reason to visit. The Nazca Lines are basically a huge expanse of shapes drawn into the ground. No one knows why or how they were drawn, but they are thought to have been created in the Pre-Inca times (the Incas were the local people), around about 500 AD. They were only discovered when people really started using aeroplanes, as you can’t tell anything is even there from ground level- this makes it even more amazing: how did the Inca’s manage to draw such incredible shapes and mile long straight Lines, without seeing what they were doing?

The most popular way to view the Lines is to take a small, rickety aircraft flight over them. We looked into this the next day and soon found out that it was crazily expensive (at least it is when you’re on a serious budget). Instead of throwing away over US $200 on a flight we decided to visit the Mirador Observation tower instead. This tower was a 20km local bus ride away and cost just 1 Peruvian Sols (around 10 pence) to visit.

The bus journey was adventurous. The buses here don’t have a timetable, they literally sit and wait until they are full, then drive off. Once we had got on the bus, a woman with a child and two goats and a large number of locals (sitting and standing – they literally squeeze you all on until no more can fit) joined us, then we were off.

The guide book was right when it said the Observation tower only gives you a sketchy view of the Lines. We could see a lizard and a hand with nine fingers. More importantly, we could see the damage that the creation of the Carr Panamericana Sur Highway (the main road through Peru) has done to the lines. The road was built before the Lines were discovered, and it’s creation has effectively demolished the tail of the Lizard.

From the tower we could also see a large hill/ small mountain in the distance. It looked as though you’d get a different view from there so we decided to walk along the desert highway to have a look. Walking in the mid-day sun in the middle of the desert is not the best idea, but after about a 45-minute-walk we arrived – and the view from the hill was absolutely worth the trek. The Lines were not much clearer from here, but the view of the desert spread out before us along with the towering mountains in the distance was just incredible.

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July 27, 2010

Firstly, apologies for the delay between this blog entry and the last. I’ve managed to fall off a bike and break my shoulder, which makes typing particularly difficult.

Regardless, here is what has happened in the mean time:

After Lima we went straight to Huacachina. Huacachina is basically a lagoon in the middle of the Peruvian desert. The drop of water is surrounded by sand dunes towering in every direction, making one feel particularly small and alone, in the middle of nowhere. Besides the lagoon featuring on the back of every Peruvian 50 Sols note, Huacuaucina boasts nothing of any political or contextual interest to speak of. The place is essentially a tourist hotspot, that offerers one thing and one thing alone: sandboarding.

Sandboarding is basically like snowbording but on sand dunes. Amazing. We arrived and booked our sandboarding trip with our hotel. After a morning lazing around the (decidedly smelly) lagoon we went to meet the buggy which was to take us up into the dunes which surrourded us. The buggy was basically a crash-cage with six rusty old seats inside and by the time we set off the light was so flat it was practically impossible to discern where the dunes started and finished.

The buggy ride was like a roller coster trip but so, so much better. The whole trip took about three hours and our driver, George, stopped at strategic points to allow us to wizz down a sand dune on our bellies on the sandbords. We ended up at the top of a strategically placed dune, to watch a perfect sunset before heading back to the hostel.

Showering after-sandboarding is not fun. The desert may be boiling in the day but as soon as the sun goes in, the temperature drops to nothing. Hence, staying in the cheap hostel with no hot water is not the smartest idea when every inch of your body is going to be sand-stewn.

The next day, we decided to rent sandboards ourselves and get up early to climb the sand dune behind our hostel. Now, I may not be the fittest person in the world but Camilla runs marathons and even she would tell you that climbing a sand dune with sandboards on your back is flipping hard work. Anyway, we climbed it (in record time, obviously), before doing some real standing-up sandboarding back down the dune.

Huacachina was a great place to relax but we were hoping that our next stop – Nazca – would provide us with an insight into Peru, beyond the chat of Tony the Barman.

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July 14, 2010

Le Cathedral de Lima

Lima is grey and dull. A perpetual fog shrouds the city, making it difficult to distinguish morning from evening. Ishmael, the narrator of Moby Dick, described Lima as, “the strangest, saddest city thou can’st see.”

While at a first glimpse, Ishmael may be right, a few hours in Lima is all you need to fall in love with the place. The fog my be constant and chilly, but the people and the architecture make Lima the city it is.

Lima is the commercial centre of Peru. The young and successful Peruvians striding the streets in work suits could easily be in London. Indeed, we met a guy called Frank in a cafe over lunch, who tells us he has just graduated from university and is depressed because he now has to get up every morning and do a real job. Despite this, the gap between rich and poor in Lima is strikingly obvious. People old and young line the streets, selling trinkets, chocolate bars, Peruvian flags. Old women sit day and night at the side of the roads selling fruit, while beggars come together outside churches shaking their money pots.

Our day in Lima started with a bang – both literally and figuratively. The Peruvians celebrated the visit of the President of Uraguay, President Jose Mujica Cordano, with a military display outside the ornate Government Palace, on the North side of the Plaza de Armaz.

The Plaza de Armaz was closed off with numerous soldiers surrounding it. At precisely 11am a canon was wheeled in to the centre of the square and fired.

After this alternative wake-up call, we headed for La Cathedral de Lima. Neither of us knew anything about Lima, apart from the vague context page in our Lonely Planet Bible, so hoped the Cathedral would provide us with some context of the city. The Cathedral, which fills the length of the East side of the Plaza de Armaz, is simply incredible. Two towers stand either side or the elegantly carved entrance. It cost 10 Sols (about two pounds) to visit the cathedral and for this price you also get an English speaking guide.

The city of Lima, the capital of Peru, was founded by Marquis Don Franciso Pizarro in the early 1530s. Pizarro sailed from Spain in the early 1500s with over 2,500 colonists. On entering La Cathedral de Lima, we were immediately led into a side chamber. Here, the walls were covered in paintings of Pizarro’s journeys. The main picture depicts a huge fleet of ships leaving Spain for the New World. Three naked men, bound and forced into a small paddle boat filled the foreground of the picture. These men signified those who chose to stay in Spain rather than leave with Pizarro and discover the riches of the New World.

To the right of the picture in an ornate tomb, lies the body of Pizarro. Beside the body is an empty lead box bearing the inscription: “Here is the head of the Gentlemen Marquis Don Francisco Pizarro, who found and conquered the kingdom of Peru…” According to our guide, after his assassination in 1541, Pizarro’s head was detached from his body and put into this wooden box by his killers. The coffin of Pizarro has only been on display in La Catheral de Lima since 1977. Before this date, a different body, believed to be that of Pizarro, had been displayed. However, in 1977, workers undertaking remedial work in the chambers beneath the Cathedral discovered a coffin and wooden box hidden in the walls of the chamber. These remains were examined and identified as the real remains of Pizarro, and have been on display ever since – head and body reunited in the coffin.

Despite initially presenting Pizarro as a kind of national hero, after some questioning our guide admits that most Peruvians see Pizarro as a villian. The relationship between Peruvians and the Spanish is a strange one. Despite gaining independence from Spanish colonisation in 1821, Peru’s culture is still heavily influenced by Spain. 90 per cent of indignious Peruvians have retained the Catholic religion enforced on them by the Spanish, for example. Futhermore, the celebrations in Lima after Spain won the World Cup were epic. Despite all this, every Peruvian I have spoken to has professed a serious dislike towards the Spanish. Indeed, no date in Peru recieves more celebration that Peruvian Independence day.

After receiving this contextual education, we were shown around the rest of the Cathedral. The inside walls of the cathedral are gated, each gate concealing a private chapel. Throughout the colonial times, these Chapels were owned by rich families and used for private worship. However, the chapels were returned to the ownership of the Cathedral in post-colonial times and are now open for public viewing.

We left the Cathedral at precisely 12pm, just in time to see the Changing of the Guard, outside the Government Palace. This elaborate ceremony takes place every day at midday and involves a marching band. The Guard flick their legs into the air like ballet dancers as they march. In the middle of the ceremony, two of the Guards pull their swords from their resplendent uniforms and pretend to drive them into each other’s chests. While this elegant ceremony takes place, the Soldiers and Police standing outside and around the Government building, watching over the crowds, stand casually texting on their mobile phones. This behaviour seems to define the Peruvian way of life: “Tranquille”, I am constantly told – “relax”. Everyone is laid back, friendly. There is no rush here and this attitude to life is wonderfully infectious.

After the Cathedral, we moved on to the Monasterio de San Fancisco. The main reason we wanted to visit this ancient Monastery (built in the early 1600s) was for the library and the Catacombs. The Catacombs are basically a set of dusty, soil ridden underground passage ways beneath the Monastery, lined with the bones from approximately 70,000 human burials.
The bones were sorted into piles of bones of the same kind – all the skulls, for example were grouped together. Walking through what was essentially an underground cave littered with human remain was an odd experience.

The bones were not protected in any way and in some cases merely lay littered around our feet. Eventually we arrived at a circle in the ground. Peering down into it, we saw an entire well filled with human skulls, arranged in an intricate display. We were so close that we could see the sword stab wounds through the hands of some of the skulls, smaller skulls – obviously belonging to babies – also made up the display.

After this strange, but most recommended, experience we left the catacombs and climbed back up into the Monastery. Moving around the building we discovered the library. The long wooden room contained spiralling staircases up to a balcony of yet more books, and book shelves containing books almost as tall as me. Over all there were 25,000 books in the library, many of them, according to the guide book, dating back to the 1400s. A rope a couple of steps into the library prevented us from entering properly but the opportunity to simply stand there and take in the smell and feel of this incredible room was just unbelievable. The room was exactly how I imagined the Labyrinth of Forgotten Books (from Zafon’s The Shadow of the Wind) to be; like something out of a Jane Austen novel but so, so much better.

We planned to spend the next day in Lima too, but in the morning we realised that we had covered most of the attractions in Central Lima (we are visiting the other main part of Lima, Miraflores, on our way back home at the end of the trip). So we decided to catch the lunchtime bus to the next place on our route: Huacachina.

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July 7, 2010

After 16 hours of flight time, spilt red wine and a visiting President, we arrived in Lima.

16 of flight time is not fun at the best of times, but the opportunity to photograph everything and anything with my exciting new camera as well as the blind anticipation of jumping on a plane to some faraway land we knew only from guide book, got us through a good few hours of the journey. However, much like the time Harry Potter and Ron Weasley stole Mr Weasley’s car to fly to Hogwarts, the initial novelty of the situation wore off remarkably quickly. After (accidently) knocking a glass of red wine over Camilla’s pale grey hoodie, we decided to calm down a bit and get down to the serious business of learning to speak Spanish.

Quick tip here to any potential travellers: learn the language. Unfortunately my cunning plan to spend the entire plane journey listening to my ‘Beginners Spanish’ CDs and to become fluent my the end of the journey went slightly to pot when I fell asleep after the first ten minutes. Peruvian people are amazing, but they don’t like it if you don’t speak Spanish. Or try at least. Turns out ‘Hola’ and ‘Gracias’ are not quite enough to get by on.

When the plane finally touched down in Lima, we strolled out of customs into a wall of voices shouting ‘taxi, señorita, taxi’. We may as well have been wearing signs saying ‘First time travellers – please take advantage of’, because the first taxi company demanded $100 for a 20 minute ride and didn’t seem impressed when I said you wouldn’t pay that much for a 20 minute taxi in New York, let alone Lima.

I’d like to say that we then bargained a cheap taxi ride, however the choice of taxi companies was limited and we ended up paying 90 sol (roughly 18 pounds, which might not sound much until you realise that a hotel in Lima, for example, cost just three pounds for one night.) We found a different taxi company and told the assistant the address of our hostel. He muttered to himself for a few minutes before saying, “no, no, no. Bad part of town. Not a good idea for travellers to go there at night. Very dangerous. No, safety must come first.” Great. Out with the guide book then. Find new hostel in “nice” area. Mr Taxi Man approved our new decision and commanded one of the drivers to take us.

Lima is buzzing at night and nothing like I expected. Vendors selling sweets clutter the streets and every time the taxi slowed down someone came towards the window trying to sell us something. The city is set out like a grid and the drivers tend to turn a blind eye to minor road restrictions like traffic lights. Hence, each time we arrived at a junction (at the end of each block, so about every thirty seconds), we swerved and braked to avoid the stream of oncoming traffic. The police presence in Lima is incredible. As we drove along we saw police wandering around constantly, but weren’t entirely sure whether we should be reassured by this or disturbed by it’s necessity.

We arrive at our hostel, ‘Hotel Espania’ about twenty minutes later. The taxi leaves and we go in to book a room. “Non. full up”, the charming hostess grunts. Oh. It seems our brilliant plan is coming to a sticky end. Neither of us really want to walk around in Lima at night (it’s about 10pm by now) with our huge backpacks which may as well scream to the city: “Look at us, with lots of expensive stuff on our back, come and mug us, please!”

However, it seems we have no choice. So on the backpacks go – for the record, both of our pack weigh about 15kg each, plus we were both carrying 20 litre smaller backpacks. Our trusty guide book tells us there is a hostel one block away so we headed for that: “Sorry full up.” And so it goes on. We ended up trekking around night time Lima for about 45 minutes, either failing to find a hostel or being told they were full up.

Neither of us were nervous but were both very aware that what we were doing was incredibly stupid – but also unavoidable. Perhaps we should have stuck with the original hostel, but at the time it seemed like that would have been a stupid thing to do given the advice we were faced with.

The fact that there were police literally everywhere made us feel marginally better. Eventually we reached the square in front of the Government Palace in the centre of the city. I was starving and we both felt like our shoulders are going to break from our backpacks, so we went to the nearest cafe to rest and decide what to do. I ordered chips and was served up three deep fried bananas instead (should have stayed awake for the menu part of the Spanish CDs…) After laughing for a ridiculously long time at this mishap, we got out the guide book and found one hostel we hadn’t yet tried.

Ten minutes later we walked past a hostel called ‘Hostel Machu Picchu’ (not the one we were looking for). It looked very closed but we decided to ring the bell. The lovely man who opened the door told us he has free beds; practically delirious by this point Camilla declares her undying love for him and tells him he has saved our lives. I preserve my dignity but secretly agree whole heartedly. Even better, the room is a double room not a dorm and only costs 15 sol (about three pounds) each for the night. Bargain bucket.

The hostel is basic has beds and is therefore like a dream come true. We shower (hot water! Wow!) and sleep. Despite the fact that neither of us have slept for the past 24 hours, we both wake up at 4am, just as good jet-lagged travellers should. We manage to go back to sleep and end up getting up at eight in the morning. In the daylight the hostel is amazing – a building with half the roof missing but in a strange amazing way. Looks like we’ve found a real hidden gem, despite it not being in the guide book. We also discover that, if there is ever a night for being ridiculous and walking around Lima with all of your money and possessions, it the night of the visit of a foreign President. Turns out the President of Paraguay was visiting Lima last night, thus the huge Police presence. Beginners luck.

Despite all this drama, we felt our introduction to Peru had been suitably hard-core. Now just the sightseeing to get started on…

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July 5, 2010

Ladies and gents, boys and girls, welcome to the show. I am on the eve of a great adventure. My mother has just cooked and fed me enough food to last me a month of Sundays. A nice farewell gesture but I must admit, with the worried looks I now witness every time I walk into a room, I’m starting to feel rather like Jesus at the Last Supper.

Tomorrow morning at precisely 4am I will be out of bed and heading down to the train station and off to Gatwick Airport. My amazing friend Camilla and I will then board a plane heading for Lima in Peru, with a return ticket marked for five weeks later.

You may be surprised to hear me talk of my prospective travels as though I were about to undertake some kind of great journey. With the well publicised ‘Gap Yah’ videos, I know few people who have retained the ability to keep a straight face and not respond with “you mean Per-yah” when I tell them where I am going.

However, I beg that you do not universally apply the perception that all young travellers went to public school and want to see no more of Peru than the local bars.

When Camilla and I concocted this meticulous plan to see the world it consisted of maps with small dots for cities and a sea pencilled in pale blue.

This close to the event and I wish I could tell you that it’s beginning to feel more real. But time is a fickle friend and with exams and post-exam and end of year celebrations, I simply haven’t had a moment to think about it in my head. Yes I’ve done the (bloody expensive) shopping; got the back pack and most of all got a pair of walking boots (absolute stunners).

Despite all this, ‘travel’ remains an abstract concept in my mind. Part of me imagines that, rather like one of those glossy magazines or travel guides full of smiling tourists, I will simply slide into the photo shot beside them, missing out all the grotty, dirty parts involved in backpacking.

The plan is as follows: Peru – down the coast line until we hit Lake Titania, then looping down into Bolivia before making our way back up to Lima, via La Paz and Machu Picchu.

Packing has been a bit of a mission. I ended up buying a 60 Litre pack because it was so comfy compared to others. This was despite being told I needed 65 Litres minimum. As an absolute traveller-virgin you will find that you are given so much conflicting advice. Friend A tells you one thing, friend B another and then Google just screws with you head by telling you something completely different.

Regardless, a 60 Litre pack it is. Now, it looks bloody huge. Seriously, it’s bigger than me (well not quite but almost). Despite this you can fit an astoundingly small amount of stuff in it. Mary Poppins bag it is not.

Basic toiletries and medical kit aside, my biggest worry is clothes. Not in the “oh no can I take my heels and straightners” fashion (no, really no). More in the “oh crap, is it going to be hot or cold? In which places and when?” etc. Again, the advice had been questionable. “It’ll be hot in some places and cold in others… depends really…” Marvellous, thanks.

So, every pointless possession of mine is now stored in a locked room in my new house in York for the foreseeable future. I am sitting in my parents house back down South with one rather bulky backpack (that Camilla has just named Alan) for company, and three hours to go until we leave to catch our plane.

More blogging and photos to come as my journey commences.

Blog image credits: Andy Carvin via Flickr Creative Commons

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