June 29-30: Colca Canyon

I had to wake up at 5:30am (!) because the guide for the Colca Canyon trek was picking me up at 6am (!). Victor, a twenty-two year old from Chivay studying tourism (surprise surprise) in Arequipa, collected the five travelers from our disparate hostels. Shockingly every single one of us was doing Peru solo. Victor shoved us into two tiny taxis (which is pretty much the only variety of taxi to be found in most of Peru) and shipped us to the bus station where we barely made the 6:30am bus to Cabanaconde. Off we went on a bumpy dirt road through some amazing mountainous countryside. The place looked like a topographical model because of the extensive terracing.

Colca Canyon is the second deepest canyon in the world (beaten by its sister canyon Cotohuasi which, it was recently discovered, is deeper). Because it is set in the mountainous region around Arequipa, it is deeper even than the Grand Canyon and every bit as spectacular. It is home to a large population of Andean condors who can be seen drifting through the canyon on strong thermals. After arriving in Cabanaconde, I met the group and enjoyed a typical Peruvian lunch of quinoa and vegetable soup and chicken with some kind of thick peanut mustard sauce over rice. Interestingly, the Peruvians don’t use the word “traditional” so much. Instead, you see women in “typical” dress and eat “typical” Peruvian food. And I met my fellow travelers – Carolyn from Britain on a one year South America journey, Mike from Canada on an eighteen month SA trip, Nogah from Israel on a nine month SA trip, and Michael from Sweden, also on an extended SA stay. I was the only one who hadn’t been living out of my backpack for more than six months. Although Cabanaconde is a miniscule town, it had a lovely Plaza de Armas with a statue of a condor under the insanely blue sky. So off we went. Day one consisted of a four hour downhill trek where we descended into the canyon, passing villagers with their mules and stopping occasionally for Victor to explain the medicinal qualities of various plants. We arrived in San Juan de Cuccho at a very basic eco-lodge where we ate more soup (potato this time) and chicken with rice. At night, after the sun sets, the moon does strange things to your depth perception of the mountain and it looks like tiny gnomes move the entire mountain a hundred yards closer to your sleeping huts. Very weird. We spent the night with Angel (another guide)’s group, which consisted of a pair of Dutch guys, an American couple, and a Brit who had been living in Columbia for the past two years.

The next day we hiked across the valley. Those tiny white specks hung in the canyon are actually two towns and beyond them, on the other side of the canyon, is the oasis called Sangalle where we spent our second night. Sangalle hosts a couple of sparkling natural pools and a set of bamboo huts whose walls don’t really offer much privacy (as you can see). But it did have some awesome furniture made out of palm trees! On the way from San Juan we bought some amazingly sour cactus fruit from a local who let us take pictures of her llama. It was Carolyn’s birthday that day and Nogah had given her a walking stick with two balloons tied to it and Carolyn donated her balloons to a little girl who had been hiding behind her mother’s skirts.

In Sangalle, Kevin (the Columbian Brit) taught us how to play Shithead, a card game that supposedly every South American backpacker knows and loves. It’s actually a kind of genius game because there are no winners, only a loser. While we were playing, two Peruvian kids (we think they belonged to the owner of our bamboo huts) joined us and we spent a merry couple of hours trying to play our game while keeping the kids entertained and trying to make conversation in our very bad Spanish. Carolyn, being fluent, seemed to have the best luck. “Tire este,” she would tell the kids and they would throw her cards into the pile.The next day we had to wake up at 3:30am(!!!!!) to make the long climb out of the canyon. I was tired from hiking the two days before so Carolyn and I opted for a mule ride in the moonlight. Our muleteer showed up with two animals and after we got the hang of holding on to the animals through the insanely steep switchbacks, off we went. The mules actually tired before the muleteer did. He powered up the mountain in no time at all. The Dutch guys from Angel’s group won the hike. They made it up 5000 feet in less than two hours. By 6am we were all having the best breakfast of hollow triangle bread and eggs I have ever eaten. One little hang up – Jessie, the other American girl, took a mule up the mountain but her muleteer abandoned her before getting into town and Jessie spent the wee hours of the morning getting unbelievably lost in Cabanaconde’s surrounding countryside! Luckily Angel found her after she found her way to the Plaza de Armas and brought her to the bus just in time for us to climb on with a thousand other Peruvians.We were on our way to Cruz Del Condor, one of the best spots for viewing the Andean condor and a mecca for the tourist buses on their two day Canyon Country tour. And where there are tourists, there are souvenirs. And where there are souvenirs, there are women in embroidered hats and skirts selling the souvenirs. And those women come from Cabanaconde. The hike through the canyon is much less popular than the bus to Cruz Del Condor so the dozen hikers on that early morning bus were crammed in among the short souvenir women with their thick woolen skirts, and whatever men were catching a ride to Chivay. The cargo hold and the roof were overflowing with the backpacker’s mochilas and the plastic Duane Reade bags crammed with knitted hats and woven blankets and other alpaca based detritus. We somehow managed to squeeze everyone waiting in line in Cabanaconde on board and then the bus continued to pick up passengers on the way to Cruz Del Condor! The additional people were forced to ride on the roof with the packed goods, or hang on to the ladder on the outside because there was absolutely no room inside. All the souvenirs in the picture below were on my bus. So was the little girl.After staying for an hour and watching many condors gracefully glide through the canyon and awkwardly land on rocky outcroppings, we then made our way back to Chivay for a soak in some much needed thermal springs. They were quite lovely too, crystal clear water that was boiling hot at the spring source and pleasantly warm further out. Then off to a tourist buffet lunch (well, I suppose you can't avoid all of them) where I got my first taste of grenadilla, quite possibly the best fruit in the world. It's an orange fruit with a soft gray membranous sac full of seeds inside. You eat the sac like frogs' eggs or something and it tastes absolutely wonderful. Fantastic stuff. Then back on the bus for the long ride back to Arequipa.

June 27: Arequipa

After an overdose of pre-Incan culture, I took an overnight bus from Nazca to Arequipa. I used the bus company Cial but anyone else who does the trip should pay the extra bit for a proper Cruz Del Sur seat that you can actually lean back without ticking off the woman behind of you. Otherwise the ride feels like an airplane flight with your seat back in the full upright position and the worst turbulence possible for the entire ten or eleven hours.

Known as the White City for its primary construction material, a white volcanic rock called sillar, Arequipa has a reputation for being a bit ornery. As in the way that Quebec is ornery. The rest of Peru drinks Inca Cola, right? In Arequipa though, you drink Kola Escocesa because la bebida de Peru can't possibly be la bebida de Arequipa. And while the rest of the country enjoys Cusqueña beer (named after the city Cuzco, the Incan capital), the residents of the city drink Arequipeña instead. The attitude is so pervasive the souvenir shops actually sell a novelty Arequipan passport. So weird.
I stayed at the hostel Home Sweet Home. Although security in dorm rooms is a real issue, cramped quarters force travelers to interact and I felt lonely and sick of Spanish by now. I met a whole mess of friendly folks in my dorm room (there were five beds in one room, and none of them were bunks) who invited me to dinner where I got to try rocoto relleno, a hot pepper stuffed with alpaca meat and potatoes. Mucho gusto.

The first day, after booking a trek to Colca Canyon, I visited the Santa Catalina Monastery, a sprawling Dominican compound that once housed an order of nuns with the laxest possible policy of cloistered life. The had servants and threw parties and most were the daughters of rich families who paid handsome dowries to be admitted. It was reformed at some point and the later nuns were pious to the point of self mortification. One of the cells actually had a bed of nails used by some dedicated Mother Superior. The monastery was full of picturesque alleyways perfect for filling up my memory card.
After my fill of the monastery I wandered around the Plaza de Armas and ended up buying postcards from a university student in Arequipa. Many of the young guides I met on the trip are students of tourism at local universities eager to try out their English on anyone who will bother to talk to them. The guy (whose name I've unfortunately forgotten) told me that he used to work as a porter on the Inca Trail and he makes more money now selling postcards in the plaza than he did carrying heavy packs and running up and down mountains all day long. He then asked if I'd like to visit the market with him and, after establishing that I did not want some kind of city tour, he took me to see all the weird Peruvian food on display at the giant market. This is some of the grain available, including the Peruvian corn on steroids called choclo. The kernels are huge compared to the standard American ones.
And this is the black corn they use to make chicha morada, sweetened juice that tastes unlike anything I've ever had before. (It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good. It was just strange.) They also ferment it to make a corn beer called chicha, which I never actually found despite Lonely Planet's claim that it's frequently served is Cuzco.
And best of all, these little buggers are used to make jugo de rana. Yup, that's right, you can get liquefied frog in a cup mixed with other fresh fruits. Supposedly its good for your brain. I say it can't possibly be good for anything. My food bravery ends at blended amphibian.
Peruvian Guide Boy also took me to a bridge to check out Mt. Misti, a still active volcano that looms over Arequipa. People who climbed Misti attest that it does indeed still smoke and smells like sulphur.

June 25, 26: Nazca

So it was back on the bus for another few hours to Nazca, which, like most of the southern coast of Peru, is basically a giant desert. A desert with MUMMIES... ooooooh, creepy. After the whole Islas Ballestas boat ride experience, I was not about to jump into an equally vomit inducing airplane ride to go over the famous Nazca lines. I've seen lots of pictures and from what I hear about the flight, even those with stomachs of steel have to brace themselves. Instead I spent two days with a guide named Jose who worked with the German scientist Maria Reiche back in the 70s. Maria Reiche studied the Nazca lines in Peru for close to fifty years and barely lived to see them named a UNESCO World Heritage site. Jose shares Reiche's passion for conservation and most of his tours consisted of some pretty elaborate arm waving that immeasurably helped me understand his Spanish. He was also probably the best enunciator I met in Peru. Despacio y claro, my favorite! All three of these sites can really suck if you don't have a good guide. They're not very flashy and Nazca is incredibly hot and dry. This is a panorama of the Plaza de Armas:
First stop: Cauchilla Cemetery. The Nazcas were a pre-Incan civilization with a huge burial site in the same region as the lines. Unfortunately, huacaros (grave robbers) have stolen most of the gold jewelry and fancy textiles from the tombs, but some bones, some broken pottery, and a lot of 1000 year old hair remains. Jose quite indignantly told us that Cauchilla receives no government protection, that a ticket collector at the entrance to the site pockets the money and doesn't use it for preservation, and that no one is there to guard the mummies at night or when it's not tourist season. It's interesting that Machu Picchu can get away with charging so much and civilizations even more ancient, albeit in less picturesque landscape, get such short shrift.
Second stop: Cauhauchi. I didn't intend to come here but I ended up with a couple from Lima, one of whom was the daughter of an artist who recreated the murals and friezes of the ruins in northern Peru. She was an amateur photographer preparing for an expo on the ruins of southern Peru. Cauhauchi is a city that is slowly being excavated by a team of Italian archaeologists. Originally buried in a massive flood, the city was home to another pre-Incan civilization. Due to rapid wind erosion the Italians are forced to cover up the ruins after excavation, so only a small part of the city is actually visible. I did find some 1000 year old painted pottery shards and bones here, just laying on the ground for anyone to pick up. This place could be incredible if it had the resources for a full excavation and restoration. But I suppose Peru is full of cities hidden by sand or jungle.
Third stop: Nazca aqueducts. These aqueducts are still in use today after 1500 years. Built by the Nazca for water storage and irrigation, there are a series of windows to the subterranean aqueduct which allow for airflow and cleaning. Farmers in the area clean the aqueducts once a year. I thought you could actually go inside the aqueduct from the spiraling staircases but you can't. Bummer. This is me drinking the Nazca water. (Giardia, anyone? Anyone?)
And this is the view of the inside of the aqueduct. The water was crystal clear.I also got to see one Nazca line from the ground. This one is called The Needle and it exemplifies the fragility of the lines. The pattern is made simply by clearing the darker rocks away from the surface, exposing the lighter dirt. No wonder why the construction of the Pan American Highway obliterated the lines in its way.
This is the close up:
Final impressions of Nazca: Hot, dry, dusty, marginally interesting, and for heaven's sake, don't stay at the Hotel Mirador there if you can possibly avoid it. The beds are terrible.

June 24: Islas Ballestas and Huacachina

After a rather disappointing day in the Paracas National Reserve, I got up early and hopped on a boat to the Islas Ballestes, famous for sea lions, penguins, and lots and lots of poop.

A huge population of gulls produces vast amounts of (rather strong smelling) guano. Workers harvest the fermenting bird poo every five to seven years and by that time, the guano can be several feet deep. Yum. I unfortunately got terribly seasick on the ride. The seas were a little rough and once at the islands, you're not allowed off the boat so as not to disturb the rather profitable guano production going on. I didn't actually feed the fish over the side of the boat, but it was touch and go for a while there. On a happy note, we did see Humboldt penguins (aw, they're so cute!) try to waddle down the side of a rock, with their useless little arms flapping about.
We also saw cormorants
and sea lions
and more gulls than you can possibly imagine.
This part of Paracas was worth it, minus the revolting stomach churning (but that's just me). Dolphins came to play with the boat on the way back in to town, and on the way out the boat passes by a geoglyph called The Candelabra that looks like either a cactus or Neptune's trident. After the boat tour, Carlos ferried me the two miles to the Pan American Highway for the ungodly price of S/20 ($6, also counts as Rip Off #3) and put me on a S/8 ($2.50) Soyuz bus to Ica, two hours to the south.

Huacachina is a desert oasis about fifteen minutes from the larger town of Ica. A tourist mecca, the town consists of a rather murky lake and towering surrounding sand dunes. Really, it's completely surrounded. Once you drive over the first dune, the world looks like the Sahara - immense piles of warm sand as far as the eye can see.
The place is so picture perfect, it's featured on the back of the 50 sole bill. Best of all, you get to go sandboarding here! My few feeble attempts at snowboarding have resulted in intense pain, so I chose not to strap my feet to the rudimentary pieces of laminated plywood that pass for sandboards. But sandsledding on your stomach down the dunes is every bit as fun!
The dune buggy drivers are maniacs. The dune buggies themselves should give you a clue about the blatant lack of disregard for tush comfort - they're basically nothing but roll bars with a motor and nine seats. And riding them is like riding a rocket. Our driver would go flying over the huge hills, Dukes Of Hazzard style, catching air and landing like a ton of bricks on the downhill side. It was AWESOME. And because I went on the 4pm trip out to the dunes, I caught the most beautiful desert sunset before we made our way back to town.
I stayed at Casa de la Rocha in Huacachina, which was perfect. They serve up a great breakfast and their cat had given birth to the cutest, shyest kittens in the world. And they kept parrots in the backyard. Which had a bar. And a pool.
I could have stayed here for a week, but Nazca and Arequipa were waiting down the Pan America. I did meet a half-Peruvian, half-German tour guide at dinner who gave me some good advice about where to go in Arequipa. He has to do the Gringo Trail for bus loads of Germans five or six times a year and he said that by far his favorite stop is the one in Huacachina. I don't blame him.

June 23: Paracas

So I got completely ripped off for the first week I was here in Peru. My Spanish consisted of about 19 lessons from "Barron's Vamos A Hablar Español" which I had picked up sometime in December and halfheartedly gave a couple stabs at in the intervening months. This means I could talk only in the present tense (to talk about something in the past, I would say the equivalent of "Before, I am walking in the park") and my list of adjectives was pretty much limited to sizes and whether something was pretty or not. I was in a strange country, alone, with a limited grasp of language and I was TERRIFIED.

Rip-Off Number One: Cruz Del Sur. Cruz Del Sur is a big bus company down here in Peru. They are renowned for their safety (they actually film all passengers as they board the bus, because a couple of their overnight buses were robbed some years ago), their comfortable seats, and their on-board entertainment. They are also hugely expensive. I ended up paying $18 for a four hour bus ride that should have cost me $8. Ten dollars may not seem like much, but the equivalent 30 soles can get you either a hotel room, three square meals, or two souvenir T-shirts. I highly recommend Cruz Del Sur for the agonizing overnight bus trips from Nazca to Arequipa or from Puno to Cuzco. I do NOT recommend them for small jaunts from Lima to Paracas. Although we did get to watch Stranger Than Fiction on the bus. And every bus ride also has a game of Bingo which awards a bottle of pisco (Peruvian brandy, quite strong, used in making a drink called pisco sour which tastes like margarita) and a free future ride. The Bingo game was good for numbers practice anyway.

The Weird Divide: Rich limeños (Lima people) often summer in the little seaside town of Paracas. Their mansions are kept secreted away behind a white wall with a gate and a guard. The bus dropped the tourists off inside the wall, and I had to walk back to the other section of town to my hostel. It was only half a mile, maybe a seven minute walk, but I with my rucksack was hounded by tour touts the whole way there. I started by refusing them but eventually gave in and booked a hostel and tour with the most persistent one, a guy named Carlos.

Rip-Off Number Two: The Paracas tour. Because I booked everything through the hostel, I ended up paying a hefty commission to Carlos and Refugio del Piratas, the hostel I chose. It's a much better deal to go directly to the dock to book the tour, where the boat captain's will end up seeing more of your money. And the Paracas National Reserve tour is rather dull, so unless you're really into sandy expanses of nothing and long ceviche lunches, you may want to skip it. I don't regret seeing the reserve but it certainly didn't make my top ten list. This is pretty much the view for miles:
And this is their big tourist draw, Cathedral Rock. Doesn't look like much of a cathedral, huh? And to think the tour guides call the Reserve "The Poor Man's Galapagos." By poor they mean completely destitute.
And this is where you're more than likely to have lunch. The ceviche really was fantastic, despite some cautionary tales about people catching hepatitis from raw fish in Mexico. I had the sea bass. And Carlos actually drank the lime broth like it was soup.
You'll see lots of pelicans and gulls and maybe a nice sunset.
While waiting for the sunset, I met a Shane from Ireland who was on a six month halfway-round-the-world trip. Although his tour was completely booked and mine was completely the opposite, we would continue to run into each randomly from Paracas to Arequipa, proving that every single gringo really does stick to the Gringo Trail.