The Week of Physical/Emotional Rollercoasters

So. I am getting rather behind with this blogging lark it seems. I am currently in La Paz, capital of Bolivia. First impressions of the country: Warmer, friendlier and more fun than Peru. Yep, I went there. You know the place is going to be good when you get talking to a Mexican gothic metal band on the bus across the border and then meet an old dude with the coolest shoes ever who does a little dance for you to show his appreciation for your compliment. Bolivians are rather cool people.

Anyways, I´m still to put words to the experiences undertaken in southern Peru. The following prose encompasses: my visit to the bizarre Oasis of Huacachina, where the massive sand dunes are just asking you to chuck yourself down on a thin piece of plywood carved to look like a snowboard; the famous lines of Nazca where thre flight turns your stomach inside out and upside down, making it difficult to appreciate the views; the refined colonnial chic of Arequipa where the party was in full swing to celebrate the founding of the city and we took an amusingly guided tour to the Colca Canyon (deeper than the Grand by quite a way) to watch the graceful Condors swoop and dive on the early morning thermals.

Huacachina
Huacachina is a very small cluster of hotels and restaurants ten minutes or so outside of the city of Ica, centered around a natural oasis. It is surrounded by seemingly random, and very massive Sahara-style dunes which really have to be seen to be believed (no pics = sad face). The main reason people go there is to fling themselves down these great natural wonders at high speed on flimsy pieces of wood. It was GREAT FUN! you get strapped into a big dune buggy with a few others and the drivers are genrally lunatics who love driving as fast as possible up vertical ´theres-no-way-he-can-make-that´ angles, only to drop down almost vertically the other side. For someone who hates rollercoasters I think I did pretty well to let go of my fear and laugh like a fool at every turn. There was a couple of times I doubted his sanity though as he turned around and shot us all an ice-cool wink after one of the most pant-wettingly obtuse climbs. At the top of some dunes, they let you lose sliding down, its ridiculously fast and despite sand getting into every orifice, its stupidly great fun... except if you try to stand up on a very small hill like I did, going great guns until the moment of stopping and then fall dramtically directly onto your ribs and spend the next couple of weeks moaning about a suspected hairline fracture!

The other great thing about being at the oasis was that I randomly met up with my friends Eric and Lacey from Austin who I´d originally met up in Ecuador. Some of the most lovely people you´d ever wish to meet and it was my very great pleasure to spend the next week or two travelling around with them (and guys, if you hadn´t been there for me to despair at when my bag got nicked... well who knows!). Speaking of which...

Nazca
We arrived in Nazca on a scorchingly hot day unsure if we´d even get to fly. Having booked a deal with the hostel in Huacachina and then turning up to be told "maybe today, maybe tomorrow" shit was about to kick off (by this I mean myself and Eric frowning and tutting to ourselves and later making the guy´s office stink of tuna).

In the end after a walk around the town (dry, dusty, not much going on) we returned to be told that yes, we could fly after all so headed off to the purpose built airport which was full of tourists and I began to regret my decision. After all, they rip you for the flight which lasts half an hour in the tiniest, wobbliest plane ever. Now it took me a long time to get over my fear of flying and I still can´t completely relax in aeroplane so this was a real test of my mettle. Suffice to say I returned feeling rather sick and had to rush to the loo after landing! The fact I was sat up front by the pilot who was making the most arrestingly hard turns - I was looking directly down at the ground at some points - didn´t really help matters. Trying to concentrate on the actually quite spectacular lines in the earth far below whilst the G´s and the sickness permeates one´s being was rather difficult and I defy anyone (except Eric who was somehow fine) to not feel the same. Still, glad I did it, just!

I´m not going to go into too many details about the bag incident for insurance purposes but it can only be described as a very real test of detachment from material possesions. Still, it wasn´t exactly the experience I´d been hoping for in South America, in fact it had all been going so well up until that point. Onwards and upwards, onwards and upwards.

Arequipa
We arrived in Arequipa and my mood wasn´t exactly great to say the least. A nice man with a fisherman´s beard gave us a map and told us how to get to our chosen hostel, The Point. They have a chain of places around the country and its a pretty sure bet to meet some other travellers and have a few drinks. Nice people too. Most of my first morning in the city was unfortunately spent in the police station relating my story of the bag incident and between my averagly bad spanish and the clerk´s pretty rough english we just about managed to figure out the report and get it all sorted out. I was fingerprinted about six times though, which was a first and couldn´t help feeling like a criminal rather than the victim. Afterwards, good old mum and dad were on hand to provide superior moral and financial support in my time of need. God bless Skype and all who dial with her.

That all dealt with, it was time to soak up the party atmosphere. The whole city had turned out it seemed, lining the streets for various parades of a real carnival nature. There were floats with full live bands playing latin-reggae, young peruvian ladies provocativly dressed in burlesque outfits throwing sweets to the crowd (and believe it or not fights almost broke out for this) to beer floats of the local brew Arequipena offering free booze. It was a great time to check the city out (again, sans camera). That evening myself and Eric did an impromptu bar crawl, ending up at some bizarre 3rd floor bar where the locals were singing terrible karaoke sat down on leather sofas. It was weird as you could never see who was actually singing, these awful disembodied vocals spewing forth from the speakers, and of course we were the only gringos stupid enough to be there, giggling into our drinks.

The last couple of days we spent wandering around the Santa Catalina Convent, famous for being female only and being closed to the public for years, only opening in 1970 after four centuries of mystery. Inside, it is a complete miniature wallked colonial town and around 450 nuns lived there in total seclusion. It was a strange monument to a life of compete devotion and although I could never imagine such a life for myself, it was fascinating, tranquil place to explore and to imagine the lives that had been lived out there.

Our final day in the city was spent on a slightly over-priced day trip to Colca Canyon, known for being (almost) the deepest in the world and deeper than the much more famous Grand, and also for the place where groups of elegent condors rise and fall with the thermals from its depths. We had a very dry guide, a peruivan guy who spoke english with a German accent and insisted in saying "Ja" after every sentence. This caused much stifled giggling as he pronounced "terraces" as "terrorists" and continued in this vein until curtailing the tour an hour early as he had some "urgent business" to do which then never materialized. I did however try the most sour fruit ever, a kiwi-like creation which comes from one of the desert cacti in the area and will make your face pucker like nothing else.

Next: Hanging out in Gringo-central Cuzco and the stunning five day Salkantay Trek to Machu Picchu.