Peru
I got up at the allocated 7am, had my breakfast which consistes of flattened, very yummy unleavened style breads, jam, juice and tea. I even tried the local coca tea made from coca leaves which is supposed to be great for fatigue, stomach upsets and the inevitable altitude sickness I was expecting. Soon with much smaller bags in tow (just 2 day packs having left the big bag and laptop hoprefully safely in my hostel in Lima) I was being whisked to the airport, not much long after constantly haveing my crotch sniffed by the hostel dog. The Lima airport was quite mdern and bustling. I must try to remind myself that this is a city of 8 million people!
Once on the plane again without the seat I asked for! but still with pleant of space due to the flight being relatively empty I was on my way to Cusco and the sacred valley of the Incas. I wasnīt feeling quite so hot though. Not really due to any altitude but mainly my lack of sleep for days. On arrival a man with a sign collected me, negotiated a price with the two lovely australians I had met in the airport lounge and without them we headed to Hostel Marani through the windy Inca buildt streets of the now slightly too toursity (but still beautiful) Cusco. Apparently they hate the name Cusco (it ,means smelly dog) In their local Inca language rather then the enforced Spanish of the colonial years they would rather use Cosco... a very different meaning about weath and fertility of this holy valley. My Hostel endded up being way up the hill... good practice for egtting used to the altitude I am sure! The guide arranged my next few days for me and I paid for a scared valley tour and the tarin trips to and from Aguas Callientes and Macchu Picchu, once inside my tidy little room I went to bed (yes at 12!). I was exhauseted and knowing I had to go to the bank and pay the travel company at 4 I opted for 3 hours sleep. At 3 I showered, changed and stepped out into the busy hilly streets. I found the ATMīs easily, but no so the travel company. With my linited Spanish I evetually found them paid and then braved the street hawkers in search of dinner. My aim had been to find somewhere to go back to but with my arms laden with offers and cards declaring FREE PISCO SOUR; FREE VINO etc I ended up at the door od one restuarant that seemed to at least have some patrons inside. At the door I met Martina and Sjopje ( I just know I spelled that wrong!) a lovely Dutch couple who then invited me to dinner. Lucky them, they are travelling in South America for 6 months but the whole trip will be nearly a year. I enjoyed Aij, a local Chicken disj which was great and we worked our way though a few free Vinos. After dinner they took me to a bar that thay had discovered and we discussed 80s music at length. I was particularly impressed with his knowledge, seeing as he was only 26 but he told me that his sisiters had rather excellent collections. Martina wasnīt so impressed thinking that 80s music is crap.
Come 12am I was exhausted and painfully aware that for the Sacred Valley tour I was to be woken again at 8am. Well so I tought. On arrival in a taxi for 2 Sols (3.5 is one US dollar) I was informed that due to the current transprot strike whereby the raods get blocked, they woule be picking me up at 6.30am instead. I almost cried!
So to bed, to pack for my day and then to be awken at 5.30 I got up showered and like a zombie stumbled through breakfast. At 6.45 without any sign of my pickup, the phone rang. It was for me, Senora Yennifer. They had changed their minds, I would be collected at 8.30. 2 hours of lost sleep for nothing.
I went for a walk and then actually became glad of the time I had to see Cusco going about its daily business, before all the tourisits people were rushing to work, children in school uniforms jumped from taxis and I took loads of photos as the people watched me cautiously with a few shy Holas.
At 8.30 The bus came, picked up a few more and as we baorded the BIG BUS, they rain set in. I quickly purchased a rain poncho which suspiciously made me look like I was wearing a garbage bag and found the one last remaining seat on the bus. Well actually it was beside a young dreadloacked boy who moved away and gave me the two seats.. I must have looked sacry, so instead I was joined by Laurie from Perth WA. I had met him and his wife Karen, a couple in their late 40s, on the smaller pickup bus and she had found a seat at the front of the bus to cmbat her travel sickness so Laurie was stuc with me. He has been working in Peru for 6 months in mining engineering and Karen has come to pick him up whilst they take one last trip together. He was very chatty.
In the rear seat behind me was a whole family, The Creeds (though the crazy guide, Fernando, proceeded to call the Greeds for most of the day). Mum, Dad, Tim (22) the dread locked boy, Rachel(19) and Joanna (15) or little Jo as they called her. For most f the day I became an unofficial Creed. Without the lunch coupon of the rest I joined them prepared to pay but My Creed gave me his stating he was feeling a little off. Then they bought me a drink and then ... well theres more later.
The bus wound its was through the sacred valley of the incas. First sytop was the village of Pisco where we stopped to view a traditional local market. The people here really DO dress like all the tourist photos. I have so many shots of women and children they are all so beautiful. It begabn to pour wth rain, as if the heavens had just opened up. Now I know what they mean by WET SEASON.
The valley of the urabamba river is magnifivent. Impressive rocky mountains reach skyewards and unbelievably the locals seem to manage to farm even on some of the steepest parts using a combination of the ancient Inca technique of terrracing and a patchy type of farming whereby all the plots seem to have no rhyme or reason. Maize is prevalent, all 20 odd types of it but also beans (fava etc) and some 5000 varieties of potatoes WOW.
The river is fierce. A roaring tributary of the amazon (1000 miles away) its tumbles through the valley screaming as it goes and smoothng ancinet rocks like they were butter. You can go rafting here but the thought just terrifies me one false slip and you arenīt a man overboard, you are a dead man overboard.
Theres so much to tell of all this. As soon as I get my phots uploaded I can make more sense of it all I promise. The town Of Ollantytambo was particularly amazing and for me special as it was my first chance to wander through the Inca ruins in the sunshine.
More on all that when the photos are live.
Once back in Cusco in the dark the Creeds invited me to dinner and although we got the plans a little confused I eventually met Tim and My Creed on the steps of the Cathedral in the main square. We had a lovely dinner at the Inca Grill and then Mr Creed refused to let me pay a jot. I felt bad. They donīt have to take care of me, but they insited that they had loved my company and if I was ever in Cumbria I was to come and stay.
Tim, Rachel and I went out for a quick drink as it was only 10pm... but unfortunatley it grew into a little longer than I expected. Soon we were at Mama Africa dancing to old Run DMC tracks. I yawned, said my goodbyes and headed for bed. The next morning I had to get up again at 5 for the 6am train to Aguas Callientes... OH DEAR...
And so Iīll tell you all about that tomorrow.
Jenx
by
jen
at 1:06 AM
