You will find that this goes on a bit. Sorry about that, but I guess it might be of some interest if you are planning a Peruvian trip. I wrote it as I was going along and typed it up immediately. I wish I had found the time to edit it a bit since, but I haven't. Again, I'm sorry. Feel free to email me at delicado@cheerful.com if there's something you want to ask me about it.
Day 1 - Lima
Day 2 -
Lima
Day 3 -
Lima - Ica
Day 4 - Ica
- Nazca
Day 5 - Nazca
Day 6 - Arequipa
Day 7 - Arequipa
- Chivay
Day 8 - Chivay
- Colca Canyon - Chivay - Arequipa
Day 9 - Arequipa
- Tacna - Arica
Day 10 -
Arica
Day 11 -
Arica - La Paz
Day 12 -
La Paz
Day 13 -
La Paz - Copacabana
Day 14 -
Copacabana
Day 15 -
Copacabana - Puno
Day 16 -
Puno
Day 17 -
Puno - Cusco
Day 18 -
Cusco
Days 19
- 20 - 21 -22 - Inca Trail
Day 23 -
Cusco
Day 24 -
Cusco-Lima
Day 25 -
Lima - JFK
When we got to Peru, it was four in the morning, and dark outside. Our trip had gone smoothly, and we were unprepared for the hysteria which greeted our exit from the airport. Once we had side-stepped a persistent 'tour information' woman, we had to fight our way through a huge crowd of Peruvian taxi drivers. Eventually we struck a deal with one, who delivered us to Hostal Malka, where we had a brief sleep.
Bewildered, we caught a 'micro' to Miraflores. This is a little minibus which you catch around. A boy hangs out of the window screaming to people where it's going, trying to persuade them to get in. The journey costs 1 sol (33c). We rode one of these to Miraflores, the 'beatnik', 'studenty' district. It wasn't bad, but wasn't very attractive either. After a short wander, we headed into downtown Lima (Lima Centro) by taxi. There are taxis all over the place, which, seeing a group of gringos, honk aggressively in the hope of picking you up. While funny at first, this becomes rather tiresome. Once they have stopped, the price to your chosen destination must me determined by bargaining. It seems that Non-Peruvians (and non-Spanish speakers) do not get the same prices as locals. However, James did the bargaining very well, and it is always relatively cheap anyway (trips are rarely more than $2).
Lima centro is quite interesting looking, with many old buildings. Overall, this did not alter my perception of the city as a polluted, unattractive place. I did not feel as intimidated as I had feared, but was definitely on my guard. After living in New York where everyone looks different, coming to a place where I stuck out so obviously was odd. We didn't see many other tourists at all, and at least once, people laughed at us and said 'Ah! Americane!' After some cheesy photos in the plaza, we found a big cab to take us all to Barranca, another smart district near Miraflores. There, we followed a picturesque path to the sea, before heading for Juanito, a rather coolly named bar, where we consumed numerous jarras de cerveza. This all went down very well, and soon the jokes were coming out and we were all laughing.
Later at a restaurant, we had to put in a special request for vegetarian food, but managed to get a simple pasta dish with green pesto with no problem. At this point I realized that eating might prove to be a problem in smaller, and began to consider eating fish and meat. After the meal, we went to a bar called Noche. It was perfectly nice, but I was exhausted and quite drunk when I tasted my first Pisco Sour (it was ok; not amazing). We were supposedly playing cards, but I was sleeping and apparently looking cross-eyed. When we got home, I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.
After getting up, Gregor, Sarah and I set off on what proved to be a long and unpleasant walk to the Museo de la Nation. It didn't look so far on the map, but ended up being a 40 minute walk along an unimaginably busy and polluted main road. Our journey was not helped by some errors and contradictions on our maps. We made it in the end and were rewarded by the Sipan Gold exhibition, which was pretty amazing. It consists of the contents of the tomb of 'Lord Sipan', which was discovered in 1987. He was buried with an entourage and some gory stuff like decapitated Llamas.
We ate at the museum cafe, where we got our first taste of Inca Kola, which we had seen advertised everywhere. It was quite good; basically just a yellow version of Tizer or Irn Bru. After the museum, we got a cab to Lima Centro. I was still having difficulties with the bargaining system - the first guy drove off when we wouldn't pay 6 soles, yet the next guy seemed perfectly happy with 4
Next up was the museum of the catacombs at San Francisco Convent. This, although shabby on the outside, was a beautiful place. However, we did not get to see it in as relaxed a way as we would have liked. In spite of the beautiful surroundings - paintings, garden, courtyard, library etc., we were rushed, and couldn't understand most of what she was saying. However, the catacombs themselves, were pretty amazing - caverns in the basement of the church filled with bones and skulls.
We caught a cab and arrived (after some confusion which apparently was down to me not being able to roll my 'r's) in Barranca. We were hoping to find something interesting to eat, but ended up being ripped off at a 'pizzeria'. This turned out to be one of those special Peruvian types of pizzeria which has a sign saying pizzeria in order to attract gringos, but which is normally just an average restaurant with a stock of crispy pancake frozen bases, some dodgy cheese and tin of mushrooms. The 28 soles 'grande' pizza here was about the size of 2 New York slices and considerably less tasty. The wine was good, though.
We proceeded to Juanito, where we were meeting James and Kathleen. They were quite late, and in the meantime we enjoyed some music from a couple of Peruvian guitarist/singers. I asked for 'delicado' and 'guantanamera', but they didn't seem to understand. After a few beers and a quick hello to James's travelling acquaintances, we left. Unfortunately, we didn't make it home for some time, as the taxi driver did not know where to go, even when shown the hostal's location on a map. Eventually we got out and walked. We later realized that the man, like most taxi-drivers, was illiterate, and could not have made any sense of the map. The driver had also asked numerous people on the street, none of whom were over-anxious to help.
We slumbered until 7.30am, and then left for the bus terminal in Lima Centro. The journey to Ica was long, with lots of stops and starts. In those five and a half hours, some pretty grim poverty was on show. Thousands and thousands of people seem to live in crude concrete slums with no roof on the main road in the desert outside Lima. We got to Ica at around 2.30pm. In the meantime, quite a few dodgy geezers had got on the bus, and I had been forced to watch my stuff very closely.
We checked into the hostal, which was cheap but basic, and went off in search of something to eat. We found a quite nice (although expensive for Peru) restaurant. I decided to bite the bullet and go for the fish, which I had not eaten for 10 years. I chose sea bass, not knowing that it is a particularly meaty fish. It was ok, but I felt a bit sick eating it and could not finish.
Feeling full, we got a taxi (3 soles) to Juacachina, where the sand dunes were. This was a remarkable place, an enchanted village by an oasis, surrounded by beautiful sand dunes. Also, since Ica is sunny and bright, above Lima's sea mist, this was a pretty amazing place to be. We walked up dune after dune, relaxing and taking pictures, and I wanted to stay forever, although admittedly the lack of public conveniences might have proved a problem in the long term. We stayed there until sunset and then got a taxi back into town.
The day started unpleasantly for me, as my body had not reacted well to my audacious fish meal. After breakfast (four slices of dry toast for me) we headed off on foot to the museo regionale. The museum was interesting if rather gory (several mummies from Inca times were there, some still with hair, flesh, blood etc.). I couldn't help wondering what the dead people in the museum would have thought about all these people gawping at them in a museum. It seems quite odd and disrespectful to excavate bodies and put them in museums really, but I guess that's what they did with Lord of Sipan thing too..
After lunch, we took a three-hour
bus journey to Nazca. We had told a man at the Ica bus station that our
names were John McCarthy, Lee Sharpe and Duncan Shearer. So when we got
off the bus in Nazca and were mobbed by tour guides trying to sell us their
hostal and flight package, there was some woman there asking us (including
Sarah!) if we were John McCarthy etc. We walked a couple of minutes down
the road to Hotel Alegria (10 soles). It was a nice looking, friendly place,
with little hi-di-hi style chalet rooms. We went for a wander around Nazca,
which was a surprisingly lively place, with some religious procession with
a brass band going on. I bought some churros and a chocolate bar; we then
ate at a restaurant full of gringos called the taverna. I still wasn't
feeling quite right, so had a restful evening while Dave, Gregor and Sarah
played cards and drank beer.
Having decided not to take up the hotel's kind offer of a $40 flight over the Nazca lines, we got up at 9ish, showered (nice and hot!) and got a 2 soles cab to Nazca's tiny airport, where we haggled with some people and got cheaper flights. Funny how backpacking brings this out in you... Gregor, Sarah and I went up first in the tiny 6-seater plane. Flying up there was pretty exciting, and I was pleased that I didn't feel too queasy. We were giving a map showing what shapes were there. Overall, the lines were smaller and more faint than I had expected, although since we were in the middle of nowhere, it was pretty hard to figure out what the scale of it was anyway. One ridiculous one was 'astronaut' - a crudely done shape etched into a mountain which looked like the Smash robot. I suspect that some monkey did this for the tourists a while back.
We spent the afternoon in the Nazca Lines Hotel, hanging out by the pool. The entry price was at 15 soles more than a night in our hostal cost, but it really was remarkably pleasant - perfect weather, blue sky, palm trees and sun loungers make for an idyllic place. To cap it all, they had table football and a ping pong table! After dinner at a better pizza place, we strolled into the hotel ready to pack our stuff for the 8.30 bus, only to find that it had changed to the 8.00 bus, and they were about to leave. So we bundled our stuff together and just made it on. This was irritating, as in the restaurant I had carefully checked our tickets and verified that it was 8.30. The bus ride unpleasant and noisy, as expected. At 5.30 am we arrived in Arequipa, freezing like polar monkeys. It was seriously cold. Luckily, the taxi driver knew where our hostal, 'Tambo Viejo', was.
We waited in the hostal lobby for our rooms, had some breakfast, showered and headed out. Arequipa was quite warm once the sun had risen, and was bathed in beautiful sunlight which made the whole thing very pretty. All the same, it wasn't quite what I had expected. Having read that it was a comparatively rich city, I expected to be more impressed. It was still a very nice place to be, however. We strolled over to the Plaza del Armas and then went our separate ways for an hour. I went off in search of records and found only tapes. I had a chat to a guy whose favourite band is 'Ace of Base'. I bought a reasonably high quality tape from him of Abba - Oro - sung in Spanish.
We all met up again at the Santa Catalina monastery, which was fantastic. It is a city within a city where second daughters of the wealthy used to go to be nuns. In reality, they lived in exquisite luxury, with servants and other perks. The beauty of the buildings and courtyards, many of them painted light blue or dark red-brownish, was enhanced by the incredible sunlight. It was a nice place for us to relax, as we were exhausted. Afterwards we went across the road to the museum dedicated to 'Juanita', the sacrificed Inca girl found recently. This was fascinating, but we were all exhausted after the night on the bus, and found ourselves nodding off during the video. The body itself was particularly arresting - frozen in a kneeling position. There was no flesh on the face, but some elsewhere, and a lot of hair on her head. Later, we went home for a nap, and although we did go out to a nice bar for a while, this was one of many nights when we went to bed early because of exhaustion.
We got up early, hoping to arrange a tour to the Colca Canyon, as we were told that we were too late for the hotel-organized one. Chris and Dave tried to hire tents for themselves, with no luck; Gregor, Sarah and I tried to get on an organized tour, with no luck. So we packed up our stuff and got a cab to the bus station in order to go on our own. After much hassle and lying by bus-company officials, we managed to get what must have been the last five seats on a bus to Chivay. We were right at the back, and the roads were horrifically bumpy, leading to an uncomfortable ride.
Once we had reached Chivay at around 5.30 and checked into a hostal, we were ready for a rest. However, some American girls from the bus were going straight to the thermal baths, so we decided to join them. We got a taxi ride in a cool old metallic red American car with no seatbelts and a cracked windscreen. After some arguments over the entrance fee, we got changed and jumped into the lovely warm pool. It was open air, obviously, and by this time it was dark and the stars were up, so it really was incredible. We reluctantly got out of the pool after about an hour as they were closing up.
There were no cabs outside and no way of getting back other than on foot, so we went for it, knowing that there was only one road, and that it was only about 3km. We befriended the Americans (one was actually from Paris) and two Irish girls. The walk was incredible as the stars kept getting brighter and brighter as we became more accustomed to the darkness. We went out to eat in Chivay, stepping out of the way of the 'Santa Juanca' procession, like the one we had seen in Nazca. I cleared my plate for the first time on the trip, and we retired to bed early. Our enjoyment of the meal was enhanced by a group of local children who had formed a remarkably poor, but very amusing musical group.
Day 8 - Chivay - Colca Canyon - Chivay - Arequipa
Up very early (6am) in order to take local bus to the Colca Canyon. We nearly missed it by getting confused about which one it was and wandering off to find out about the bus back to Arequipa. We got on as the horn was blaring to leave. The journey was pretty incredible, as we went up very high (well over 4000m) and saw lots of Inca terracing, people in funny clothes, herds of llamas and primitive mountain villages. After about 90 minutes, we arrived at Cruz del Condor, our vantage point. The view of the canyon was suitably breathtaking. Not many people were there, so we were free to perform our daredevil climbing feats in peace. We saw several condors - seven or eight in all. Some of them flew right over heads, and numerous pictures were taken.
After an hour or two we decided to get the bus back to Chivay, but faced a nervous wait, as various people assured us that we had missed the last one (even though it was only 9.30 am). After 20 minutes, a bus arrived and we bought tickets all the way to Arequipa. I sat next to Chris, who was irritated by two different Peruvians who kept leaning over him, giving off an unpleasant smell. Then one sat down on his armrest. We were amazed when a little man in a yellow nestle uniform jumped out from the mountains and got on the bus to sell helados (completely frozen). I enjoyed my 1 sol lolly very much.
Day 9 - Arequipa - Tacna - Arica
After some confusion and all of us having to pay an exit fee of 1 sol (we later came to refer to this common bus station leaving fee as 'mug tax'), we checked in our packs and got on the bus to Tacna. The road was incredibly smooth compared with recent journeys, so it all went pretty quickly. It was enhanced by a guy who got up, rattled off a big spiel and started singing for money - the old '4 sweets for 1 sol' trick. This may or may not have been part of the act, but he fell over dramatically, spilling the sweets everywhere and falling heavily on his back. When he got up, he was crying, and made a sackful of cash from people who felt sorry for him (like me).
The countryside was incredibly dreary - pretty much all of it was desert. We arrived in Tacna and arranged a collectivo taxi to Arica, Chile, for 8 soles each. Further mug tax of 80 centimos each was paid, and we were on our way to Chile in a big old American car.
All went well until we got to the border. The Peruvian officials were unpleasant. We went through one by one. First was Gregor, and they asked him if he liked drugs. He didn't understand. They let Sarah straight through, but they went through everyone else's packs, pulling things out and generally being troublesome. They even stole a 10 sol note from me, saying it was false. Coincidentally, it was the first note they guy pulled out of my wallet, so I suspect that he was just making a point. When we had finally got through, the Chilean officials were much nicer, and had an x-ray, removing the need to go through the palava of emptying out the packs.
We emerged with shiny new stamps in our passports, ready to enjoy Chile. The contrast between Chile and Peru was almost immediately apparent. It seemed much more developed, and we felt much less out of place, possibly because it was more ethnically mixed. We got out of the taxi with no currency and no idea where we were. As we walked along the street, some amusing tough guy tested out his English, saying 'five people are walking down the street in Arica'. Arica is very pleasant and far more European than anything we saw in Peru. We had a nice stroll around, discovered that the train to La Paz takes no passengers, only freight, and then went to eat. I had a fantastic homemade pizza and a beer. We got pretty confused figuring out the money, but eventually realized it is about 450 pesos to the dollar.
We slept in until very late,
and after buying some bus tickets, Sarah, Greg and I took a stroll down
to the waterfront and had an expensive but enjoyable meal. Then I went
to meet Chris and Dave outside some fashion outlet store. Like many shops,
it didn’t open when it said it would, and ended up being disappointing.
After that, we were unable to resist wasting the afternoon over a beer,
watching football in a shopping center which might has well have been in
Coventry. After a Chinese meal out, we had an ice cream, and went to watch
some local festivities - a musical play was being put on in the street.
The theme appeared to be crudely sexual; perhaps something was lost in
the translation.
A pretty straightforward
day of travelling. We had overestimated the 'mug tax', so we spent the
remainder of our pesos on four chocolate bars each. The bus was our snazziest
yet, featuring comfortable seats, lunch, and even a toilet. The journey
became spectacular as we approached Bolivia - lots of mountains and beautiful
dark blue lakes. The border crossing, which we had been dreading since
our Peru-Chile experience, was no problem at all. On the bus we befriended
a Scottish girl travelling on her own called Sharron. When we reached La
Paz we were glad of this, as we had no Bolivianos and she had plenty. So
we were able to get taxis to the hostal, Alojomento Paris, which had been
recommended by someone we met in Arequipa. Not a bad place, and very cheap
at 15 bolivianos ($3) a night. We went out in search of beer to take away
and eventually found some. After a nice little party in our room, we went
to sleep.
We woke up at different times and ended up missing Sarah and Gregor. Still, we had a nice day. Chris, Dave and I had breakfast and went for a wander before meeting Sharron. Then, by chance, we ran into the tourist information place. The woman there spoke English and was very helpful, telling us the whereabouts of the prison and buses to Copacabana as well as where to buy vinyl albums.
Sharron and I visited the cathedral and the art gallery. Both were pretty impressive. The gallery was in a beautiful building with a courtyard. There were several excellent locally shot photographs, and then some rather dreary 17th and 18th century colonial art. But then there was an incredible photography exhibition by a Swiss guy called Wicky. He had visited the mines at Potosi, where miners work in difficult conditions and apparently die very young. All pretty fascinating stuff.
I then went off in search of record shops, bumping into Sarah on the way. After getting slightly lost, I was pleased to find that the woman in tourist information had been right. There was no great selection, but I did find some Bolivian pressings of London/Phase 4 stuff, including some interesting Brazilian stuff and a Roland Shaw disco record. Most of the records there were pop-dance compilations from 1990 onwards. Many of the sleeves were so worn that it was hard to distinguish between old (70s was the earliest, unfortunately) and new records.
Back at the hostal I met up with the others and we set off on a long walk in search of a good restaurant street which Greg had read about. Unfortunately, it was miles away, and turned out to nothing special anyway. Greg, Sarah and I ate Mexican at a swanky gringo place with an American waitress, while Dave, Chris and Sharron roughed it at some local place.
What followed was our first proper attempt at a big night out. We met at a club where 'Taxband - the Bolivian Beatles' were playing. Although I was a bit muted following a slight excess of Chilean Underraga red wine, it was an excellent night. They opened with 'Blue Suede Shoes' and followed up with some well-arranged Beatles tunes, interspersed (unfortunately) with 5 Oasis songs, 1 Stray Cats song, and George Harrison's 1988 hit 'Set on You'. We were all pretty merry and enjoying ourselves, entertained additionally by some German people dancing. In the end though, we all joined in.
Following our cab back, the hostal was completely locked up, with two Frenchmen outside saying ominously that they had been waiting there for half an hour. But after 5 minutes of solid bell-pressing by me, the angry owner came down and let us in. It turned out that the other taxi driver had put on a Beatles tape, hosted a singalong, and been tipped 13 Bolivianos by a drunken Christian.
Today was certainly full of tests, and at times it did not seem as if we would come through them.
First, we went to the La Paz prison, which was quite an experience. Gregor and Sarah were scared, so they waited outside. Chris, Dave and I handed over our passports to a military guy and went in. We were asked if we were there for 'shopping or the tour'. It seems that some people go to the prison in order to buy drugs, which is pretty amazing. It was a crazy place, with lots of interesting people hanging around. Some guy called Fernando was going to show us around, but we weren't prepared to pay him 35 Bolivianos each, so we had a quick look around and then left. Still, interesting stuff
We got a taxi to the bus station, which seemed a reasonable enough thing to do, But unfortunately no buses were leaving for Copacabana that day - it was all expensive tour buses. We remembered that the tourist info woman had told us to go the cemetery for a bus, and made the ill-advised decision to walk there. We had a map, and it didn't look far, but it ended up being a 45 minute hike up a busy, steep market street, leaving us exhausted. Some kid in the market looked at Chris, and said 'Bond.....James Bond'. By the time we had got there (3.45), the 4.00 bus was sold out, so we had to get the 5.00.
The journey was interesting, with spectacular scenery leaving La Paz, and an incredible boat ride across Lake Titicaca, while our bus went across separately. So far so good. But when we got to Copacabana at around 9.00 pm, there were no rooms available in any hostals whatsoever. We trudged around everywhere until we found a really dodgy looking one full of Bolivians, all of whom addressed me as 'Meester!'. Since the alternative was staying out all night, we took it, but for our 20 Bolivianos each, we got just a room with a door which wouldn't shut, and no running water. Unfortunately, Sarah chose this night to be extremely unwell, and she missed not having running water very much.
We woke up early and left our nightmare behind for the considerably swankier Hostal Aransaya. We relaxed and showered and did some washing. We left Sarah sleeping off her illness and headed down to the lake. It was pretty beautiful - gently wavy and a beautiful blue-green colour. We got tickets on the 1-30 trip to the Isla del Sol. This turned out to be very enjoyable, in spite of the 75 minute journey to get there. When we arrived, it was beautiful, although slightly marred by the omnipresence of Coca Cola, There were also lots of kids hanging around with animals, saying 'Fotografia con la alpaca?'. Gregor was very tired and so stayed at the bottom, but Dave, Chris and I entered into a race against time, climbing to the very top and back in the hour before the boat departed. The view down the other side was amazing, and we had an exciting leap down the hill in order to not miss the boat. The trip back was hot and slightly dull.
We returned and met with Sharron, who had just arrived, for dinner. The dinner was quite poor, although apparently the trout was good. Sharron came over and hung out with Dave, Chris and I for a while and told us about her life. Things later got more exciting for her, as she ended up getting locked out of her own place and having to plead to absolute strangers.
We got up early, had some breakfast, and headed up the huge hill. It was a great climb, with a fantastic view from the top. I found that I was good at climbing and felt pretty fit compared with the others. There were some crosses and altars at the top, and the vendors managed to find the space for some religious ornaments on their stalls alongside the usual coca cola, Inca cola, sublime bars etc. We went down the hard way and ended up on the little beach we had seen the day before. The lake was beautiful, and we couldn't resist having a quick dip. It was extremely cold, though, and Gregor and I wimped out by just paddling.
At 1.30 pm we said goodbye to Sharron and got on a bus to Puno. This was our first tourist bus - a minibus full of European tourists. The border in Peru proved less troublesome than our last border experience - we simply got off the bus and walked over the border.
Puno seemed quite a lively place, and it lived up to its name as a carnival city. We found out that we couldn't get the train until Wednesday, so resigned ourselves to another day in Puno. The others went out to a Lonely Planet Book-lauded Pollieria, and I went off for a pizza. Crap again. I was glad that my preference hadn't stopped them going there, as it was apparently excellent. I'm very happy for them. Bed early as we were exhausted (for a change). I did drag Sarah out for a couple of beers, but there weren't actually any real bars as such.
A pretty lazy day. I had been hoping to find records, but found none. We left Christian in bed and headed out to get the train tickets. In typical Peruvian style, the tickets could not be bought until 2pm, even though the guy was actually there. So we took as stroll out to the lakeside. The Puno side is pretty nasty - stagnant and smelly - so we were pleased we had made it to Copacabana. We politely declined numerous kind offers of a trip to the Uros Islands. By the lake, some kind of karma hit me - I went to throw something in the bin, and found a 10 sol note there! This reimbursed me for the cash taken by the corrupt Peruvian border man. We bought the tickets after a long wait. We opted for 'clase economico' or 'savage class' as Christian called it, unable to resist paying 25 soles instead of $17 or $21. We were slightly worried about this, following stories of reports of chickens etc., but went ahead with it anyway.
Puno - Cusco - Literally. That was all we did today. All of our fears about the train proved to be unfounded. In fact, the whole trip seemed a bit artificial - we got comfortable red velvet seats with tables in a coachful of tourists with regular appearances from tourist police.
The trip out of Puno was especially interesting, since the train passes all along the center of town by the market. Hopefully I will have some good pictures. I had closed the window for fear of purple spray as described by my brother. But we got nothing except a football, which bounced off (obviously).
The rest of the day was spent reading, eating and listening to music. Cheesy musicians and sellers got on and off the train - we were trapped and couldn't slam the door on them. However, none of them was remotely deserving of remuneration. It wasn't a bad day, although the views weren't as spectacular as I had hoped. We had booked and paid for a night's accommodation when we were in Puno, so we were astonished when a girl from the hostal arrived on the train with four hours of the journey to go. Her employers had send her out on the bus to get the train back. It's still not clear to me why they did this, as she just perched by my seat the whole way, serving no purpose. We befriended a Dutch woman called Carmen on the train, and she ended up staying in the hostal room with Christian, Dave and I.
As we got near the outskirts
of Cusco, we had a view down the hill, and it looked beautiful lit up in
the night. Unfortunately we had to close the shutters at certain points
as people were throwing stones. The train arrived in good time and after
being driven to the hostal, we went into town to eat and drink. Cusco was
immediately more touristy than anywhere else we had been, but also more
beautiful; it had clearly had lots of money spent on its maintenance and
paving. We ate at Govinda (Hindu veggie place - good) and had a drink at
the Irish bar where James used to work. I was amused and slightly freaked
out by seeing his writing on all the chalkboards. So familiar, yet I hadn't
seen it since we were at school together...
This was a day spent sorting things out, and also wasting time failing to sort things out. We started off with a big breakfast at some backpacker type place we had read about. It was ok and had unlimited portions, but the others enjoyed it more than me, as nothing I wanted from the menu was available. We then had two major things to do: 1 - get tickets on the plane to Lima for our flight home and 2 - rent all the equipment for the Inca trail. Our meeting with Carmen had briefly put the Inca Trail plans in disarray - Dave and Chris had been put off by her description of it as crowded and touristy, and didn't want to do it... Also, Gregor and Sarah were undecided and thinking about doing an organized tour. So at one point I thought I might end up doing it on my own. But we united in the end with the idea of doing it alone - just the five of us together. We booked flights at $59, bought train tickets to km88, the trail's start, and went to rent the sleeping bags etc. It was reasonably cheap - about $10 each in all. After a great deal of searching inadequate supermarkets, I just about managed to buy all the food I needed, and we went home early to sleep.
Days 19 - 20 - 21 -22 - Inca Trail
We were slightly anxious that the train would be dangerous, but it was fine - our main annoyance turned out to be the multitude of people trying to sell us sweets, cigarettes, penknives, coca tea etc... The train took four hours, longer than we expected. After befriending some young English people, we got off the train (an obstacle course of bags, chickens etc.) and out to the beginning of the trail. We paid 51 soles each and excitedly set off.
At first it was pretty much unadulterated fun, but it quickly became strenuous and tiring. We were exhausted by about 3pm when we reached a campsite, but decided that this was too early to stop. So we soldiered on, but the next stretch, through some jungle, was incredibly tiring. We found a suitable spot at around 5pm and camped next to an English couple called Mark and Lucy and an American man called Jim. As soon as we got there it became very cold. We ate a primitive pasta meal and went to bed at about 7pm. Five in a tent was never going to work very well, and it didn't. Also, I was cold as a polar monkey in my thin sleeping bag.
We were up for breakfast at 6.30am and off out again at 7.30. We all put our silly hats on (not for fashion reasons) and started the next climb. This was very tough indeed, a long ascent to the 4,200m summit, which we reached at about 10.30. Knackering as this was, it did give us a sense of achievement, and we were in pretty good spirits as we went down and down the next bit. The rest of the day was still pretty tough as our bodies were aching. After we reached the ruins of Runkeray, we went down through the valley and up to the marshy campsite on the other side. After a dinner of mashed potatoes and cheese, we went to bed. Soon we began to hear the pitter patter of rain. We fell asleep and then woke up as it began to chuck it down. We were shocked to find that it was only 11pm. We had been so exhausted that we had fallen asleep at about 7pm.
The next morning was pretty unpleasant - packing up the wet tent and moving on. The marshiness of the ground added to the problem, and everything was muddy and horrible. The third day was supposed to be easy, but we didn't really find it so at all. We began with a gentle and pleasant enough uphill walk to the third pass. Unfortunately the weather was misty, and it was impossible to see anything. I had been very grumpy, and was given strength to carry on with the day when Dave managed to get the classified football results via the BBC world service.
After we had reached the third pass, the trail was mostly downhill, which tested our legs. It was tough going, but we didn't really want to camp down with the multitudes at the Youth Hostal site. So after having lunch and buying some expensive soft drinks, we headed on to what according to Dave's book was the final campsite before Macchu Picchu. Helpfully, the campsite did not exist, and we passed through the ruins of Inkupunku to the incredible sight of Macchu Picchu with a dilemma - should we try and camp somewhere illegally or just go ahead to the ruins. Gregor was very anti any illegal activity, and the rest of us weren't sure, so at 4.30pm we ended up going straight to the ruins. This turned out to be a good decision, as we had the place almost completely to ourselves.
Macchu Picchu really is a pretty amazing place - so high up and secluded in the mountains. It is very well preserved, although when I later looked at old postcards, I realized that they must have done quite a lot of restoration or rebuilding in recent years. It is actually only four or five hundred years old, but I guess it is not very well protected from the elements. Still, it seems odd that something so magnificent can have been lost and forgotten. Although it is well preserved, it did not have all the clear signals of habitation of say Pompei, with its signs and graffiti. Amazing place though, and we greatly appreciated being the only people there.
Unfortunately, the day went downhill from there. At 5.45, after we had left the ruins, we found that we had just missed the last bus down to the camping areas. Oops. Sarah was particularly gutted about this. We had a beer at the Macchu Picchu hotel and contemplated our next move. We found out there was a worker's bus leaving at 10.15. At first, the reception guy was very helpful when I asked if we could get a seat on this. He said he would ask his manager and that I should come back in ten minutes. But when Sarah and I went back, we got a different, very unhelpful guy, who insisted that it was prohibited, and refused to fetch his colleague. So we packed up our stuff for a long walk down the mountain on the zig zag road which was built for the buses. Sarah and I passed the first part of the journey by describing our favourite films to each other. I now know the plot of 'Gone with the Wind' and Sarah, if she was listening, knows all about 'American Werewolf in London', 'Orphée' and 'Angel on my shoulder'.
The walk was long - almost two hours - but not too hard, and we were down at the campsite by 8.15 pm. We set up in the dark and had the tastiest leek & potato powdered soup and pasta of our lives. We then slept as tired bastards would sleep. It threatened to rain, but fortunately this never materialised. Our main annoyance was, and continued to be, the bugs, which were everywhere. We woke at 7.30 ish and aired the tent. Gregor and I went off in search of train times and received contradictory information. So we ended up packing up and walking half an hour to Aguas Calientes. There, we discovered that the only train of the day was at 4.30pm. So we spent the day lazing around in a cafe.
We had a few beers and some food and generally patted each other on the back after our recent heroics. The bugs were seriously annoying, however. We all photographed and were amused by the antics of the local dogs on the railway track. We were so exhausted that we seriously considered getting the helicopter back to Cusco. The helicopter takes 25 minutes and costs $80; the train takes 5 hours and costs $5. We tried to bargain the guy down to $50 each if we all took it, but he was having none of it. Dave and Chris even walked all the way to the landing pad, befriended Charlie the pilot, and actually got into the helicopter to see it, before being told that there was no way the price could be reduced. I guess they have no shortage of tired, desperate people.
We were very pleased to get on the train, away from the bugs. Aguas Calientes is a pretty unpleasant place really. Everything has 0.50 added onto the price, and you have to cover your face with your hands to stop the bugs covering it. The wait in the square was particularly unpleasant, since after 3 days without a shower, we all smelt appalling, and this was an extra attraction for the flies. I got a seat next to some Germans on the train, and was happy that I managed to get a seat at all, as quite a few people didn't. The train ride itself dragged more than any other on our trip. We were exhausted and smelly anyway, and the train was packed.
After a while, lots of people on a tour got off, and we had more room. Here, however, I found trouble in the form of a middle-aged Peruvian man sat next to me. He was a big bloke anyway, so having his wide briefcase next to him on the seat left very little space for me, thin as I am. So I ended up leaning on him quite a lot, hoping he would get the message and put his bag on the floor. Instead, he told me to keep to my side of the seat, to which I laughed, pointing out where his seat stopped and mine started. Eventually, with some support from GregorI got him put his bag on the floor. There was then plenty of room for both of us, and the problem was resolved, but he very kindly took the opportunity to tell me that since I didn't pay Peruvian taxes, I should get the tourist train, not the local one. This didn't really have much to do with him taking up half my seat as well as own, but nevertheless, it was a point which I appreciated enormously.
Mark, who we had met on the trail, came up for a chat, and later I relieved my boredom (I had finished my book on the train out there) by going to sit with him and Lucy. Soon, we were in Cusco, and we dodged the rip offs to get a roomy cab back to the hostal for three soles. I was starving when we got back, but everyone else wanted to go straight to bed, so I befriended a Swedish woman who was there, and, using the fact that the owner clearly fancied her, got some bread from him and watched some of the film '12 monkeys' with Spanish subtitles on his TV.
We all slept pretty well, although Dave, Chris and I were angry because our shower still didn't work. We got up and took the camping equipment back to the shop. It was an odd day as we were all still exhausted and were having difficulty walking. I went off on my own in search of records, and this time was successful. It wasn't exactly easy though. Unfortunately, you couldn't just flick through a pile of records. The guy had to get them down for me in bundles of 15 and watch me go through them... I picked up a few interesting titles. Later I wandered right into the bowels of Cusco and found a cassette-seller on the street who also had records. I got a couple of mysterious beauties from him which put me in a good mood, which improved when, after some deliberation, we dined at 'chez maggie', and had a pizza which was quite fantastic. I had quite a lot of wine - enough to make me argue forcefully with the hostal guy after our no-hot water experience. I made it clear that we would not pay 15 soles for the first night. He eventually compromised on 80 soles for the three of us for both nights, rather than the 75 I had suggested.
We got up to leave for the airport at 5am. Conveniently, a large taxi was outside the hostal when we exited, so we had a nice comfortable ride in, soothed by 'Imagine' and the Bee Gees 'How deep is your love'. We all enjoyed the journey so much that we tipped the driver 100%. Alright, it was only 5 soles anyway... The flight left smoothly and on time, and turned out to be one of my most enjoyable flights ever. The mountain scenery as we left Cusco was incredible. Also, for some reason, the three seats in front of us, all with massive leg-room, were empty, so we moved there and stretched out our aching limbs. The flight was about 45 minutes long, and our stuff all appeared on the luggage rack at the other end as we had hoped.
Back at hostal Malka, our first stop, we played ping pong and relaxed before heading out to Miraflores. Greg, Sarah and I were missing America so much that we headed for Dunkin Donuts, which was trashy but very enjoyable. After a little walk to the seafront, we ate Chinese food which was good and inexpensive.
Then I left them to go on my own little adventure in search of records. I had an excellent day, but it did not all go as smoothly as I had hoped. I had been given the location of three potential vinyl vendors by some guy in the CD shop in Miraflores. So I got on a micro and headed into town. But it turned out that the micro wasn't going there, and I got off not knowing where on earth I was. Since all I had was some scribbled down directions and a general lack of directional sense, I was in a difficult position. Some guy from the micro spoke to me for about three minutes, but I didn't understand a word he said. Eventually, I asked a policeman where I was and ended up on track for Lima centro, recognisable by the huge slum mound in the mist behind it. In fact, it was a beautiful blue sky-type day of the kind which Lima is never supposed to get.
After an unbearably long time, I got to the first shop on my list. It was a CD place, and the bloke was rude and unhelpful when I asked for records. I went round and round in circles, but I couldn't find the other places which had been recommended. It turned out that the map in the book from which I had made notes had been very vague, and on a huge scale with many streets missed out. So I wandered around. I asked a guy in the street who was selling some interesting second-hand books. He pointed in me in a certain direction, but he was clearly just trying to get rid of me.
I met three Peruvian girls who were students in the faculty of tourism at the university. I told them about my trip in bad Spanish and they giggled. They went pretty quiet when I asked them where to buy records. I stepped into an odd shopping center full of printers offices and paused by a TV where the European cup was playing. I struck up what has been the standard Peru football conversation with two boys there - Inglaterra - Aston Villa - Solano (Peruvian player currently playing for Newcastle) - Peru - Man United - before asking them about records. Warmed by our football conversation, they were very helpful, and wrote down the name of a market for me to go to, warning me that it was 'muy peligroso'.
Undeterred by the warnings, I got a cab for 4 soles, explaining to the driver what I was looking for. He too was very friendly and helpful, and soon I found myself in a typically dodgy looking Peruvian market with clothes, cassettes, household goods etc. Only this one had records. I spent a long time browsing and came away feeling very proud of myself, clutching 15 or so LPs. I then got a cab back to the hostal to meet Sarah and Gregor. We went to EWONG, a huge US-style supermarket, for dinner. I tried to use my mastercard, but they wouldn't accept it. I wondered why this was, and then realized that it was 6.45; already after midnight in the UK and therefore October, past the card's expiration date. This was amusing and didn't matter, as I was allowed to pay in dollars.
I am finishing off this diary 5 hours into our flight back. The flight has been pleasant enough - the food was good and it is pretty empty. The hostesses aren't exactly friendly though - perhaps it is my dodgy moustache... Our cab to the airport was easy enough and cost 14 soles.. The big news of the day has been Sarah's illness. She was very unwell this morning, and her condition deteriorated when we reached the airport. This wasn't good, as we had to endure a long and tedious check-in procedure. Sarah and Gregor slipped the queue and she went to the sick bay, where they gave her some pills and an injection. This seemed to improve things, and we then got on the plane pretty quickly and took off.
We arrived on time and had
surprisingly little trouble getting back into America. Oddly enough, the
only delay came in waiting for a taxi. We eventually got one from a guy
called Herb, who took us all the way over to New Jersey. It cost $55, or 165 soles!