My apologies for leaving you hanging.

Hi there. For anyone who was dutifully following our progress, I apologize.  Do to the spotty internet and the hurried pace of our trip, my plan for daily updates fell away.  It was my intention to send off all my blogs as soon as I got back (already late, I know).  As it is,  no sooner did the wheels of the airplane pound down on the pavement, than I felt the weight of my responsibilities crash land on my nervous system. Funny thing about leaving your worries behind, when you return there still there! In fact, seems some silly bastards gone and watered them while I was away so they've grown.

Our biggest concern is the renovation. It's taxing our resource and if I wasn't so consumed by it I might write about it, as it's been a journey in its own right. (Just less fun than our Peruvian travels). It's a cruel task master that drives us morning to night, and we get up early! The roof is now off and the rain is falling. "Sleep, sleep is for lesser men!" He says confidently to bolster his resolve.

Build it up to break it down

Small hole in the ceiling

Well there is the excuse and now here's the solution. I can only commit to doing one blog a month right now.  At least till I finish the house or the house finishes me. I figure it's better late and regular than erratic.
I realize it falls short of the goal of following along on the journey but it might still be interesting. That is to say, we  haven't  even gotten to the good stuff yet.  Larva's burrowing into shoulders,  cuy in Cuzco, shamans in the jungle.

Topless house

Thanks again for joining us on our travels, see you at the next stop.

New attic space

Titicaca

Puno has steep hills trudging up from Lake Titicaca. It’s a bustling spot. Cosmopolitan in a poor, dejected kind of way. We arranged an early tour to Uros islands, when we checked in at our hotel. The Uros people have lived on these islands for hundreds of years when they left the land to avoid the hostilities of the Incans. First they lived on their boats and then they developed these series of floating peat and reed islands lashed together to make a large floating community. 

Example of islands' construction

The community is comprised of several small islands of 3 to 5 families each. Each little island elects a president once a year. They once made a livelihood out of fishing and hunting birds, but today I believe they make more from these tours. The islanders stand in a brightly coloured line to welcome you. "Camisaraki" (hi, how are you?). "Wikiti" (good thanks). The islands’ president puts on a little show and tell, explaining their history, culture, and the engineering of the islands. Once thats done you’re invited to look around the island.

The president and his wife singled Jen and I out, probably because the cameras, and invited us into their home.  This was a thinly veiled attempt to sell their over priced crafts. We tried to bow out gracefully, explaining we were backpacking and hadn’t room for their beautiful tapestries. We did submit to try on their clothing for photos. We also supported them by paying for a traditional reed boat ride to a neighboring island. They seemed genuinely gracious hosts even singing a little song as we left. I was left with a ting of disappointment that these people only make a living off of tourism. While I appreciated the opportunity of visiting this unique culture I felt the business of it cheapened the whole experience. I was encouraged though, to see the use of solar energy on the islands.

The cutest saleswoman

Learning to paddle

Coca Canyon Day Two

The next day we carried on deeper into the canyon. We many short stops along the way, one of my favorites was the small village, Cabanaconde.  We had a colca sour, a version of a pisco sour made with cactus fruit, that calmed our stomachs and quieted the headaches caused by the elevation. We also had a close visit with big birds and llamas.  We finished our tour at the cross-Cruz Del Condor where we spent time observing and photographing the Andean Condors and the gorgeous landscape. 

The bus backtracked to Chivay to drop some our group to transfer to their next destinations while Jen and I plus our friends from Sweden carried on to Puno. Not on the commercial bus we had arranged, but in the Mercedes tour bus. It was a six hour journey, it seemed a little wasteful but it was really nice to be dropped right at our hotels, tired, late, and feeling completely rung out from the elevation and lack of sleep.

Coca Canyon

A typical breakfast of cheese ham scrambled eggs jam and bread, coffee our first taste of Coca tea and we were off. We headed to the Coca Canyon at 08:00ish lamenting not having seen enough of Arequipa and with heavy backpacks full of wet laundry.

The tour bus was about 12 people plus driver and a guide. She had decent english but a thick accent made it hard to understand her. She gave us some good information along the way, but overall she was more a den mother than tour guide. Jen and I are always at odds with tours. In our experience the good/bad ratio is 40/60. This was somewhere in between. The locations we went to would have been hard to get too any other way. We were rushed through all the sights of interest, and an impromptu to stop for photos would be strictly out of the question. She wasn’t able or willing to answer questions very well instead kept on script most of the time. We did meet some nice people on the tour, which we would otherwise have not.

Day one introduced us to the highlands; our peek elevation was approximately 3900 M. We ended the days touring in Chivay, a remote little agricultural town about 4 hours NE of Arequipa. It has little to offer but we hadn’t a lot of free time to explore it.  Very beautiful though and seemingly little has changed than before the time of the Incas.


A note on our hotel. The place was a little run down and not that clean. The manager helped us with our laundry by showing me a clothesline behind the hotel. The place was cold as hell is hot, the power outlets didn’t work in the entire hotel and the wifi that was promised and why we went for the more expensive hotel didn’t work. (Probably due to the lack of power). This said we had hot water and that was more than some of our travel companions in other hotels could say.  The manager did collect our clothes from the line when it began raining as we were out. There was a restaurant and bar downstairs that we gave a miss after attempting to play pool on the table with a couple of balls missing.

Despite my general unwillingness to join in group activities Jen and I joined a few of the others for planned events that afternoon and evening. We tried out the local hot springs, 15-minute walk from town (had to take the tour bus). I thought Jen had grabbed my things but she hadn’t so I opted to walk back to town to get them. Along the way I came across an Andean woman struggling with a small herd of unruly cattle. With her permission I helped push the cattle up the road to her farm. That was fun and definitely off script. I grabbed my gear and hopped a collectivo back to the pool.

Later that evening we went for dinner at a place that had Peruvian dance. Dedicated to tourists but I must admit we had a great time. If I’m ever able to get video on my blog I’ll post the video of this crazy dance where the dancers, man and woman, take turns poisoning, knocking out, abducting and beating up each other. Audience participation was mandatory. I was made to lay on the floor while the Peruvian girl beat me in the groin with some sort of sash with a large knot at the end of it. I was then supposed to get up dance around, throwing her over my shoulder. After the hours on the bus and bumpy roads my back wasn’t allowing me to throw anyone onto my shoulder. Jen on the other hand was most definitely being danced around on some masked mans shoulder (even though he was half her size).

Arequipa- Late Arrivals and Wet Laundry

We arrived 15 hours after we began, 6 hours later than we were meant to.  What a horrific trip, full of delays and hwy carnage. We passed another accident, this one with vivid fatalities. I believe I’ve gotten any thoughts of a motorcycle trip through South America out of my mind. The bus terminal was hectic as hell but nothing to horrible. With the cautionary advice to take only official taxis in mind we stepped out side the terminal. Official taxis outside the door barked out to us but upon finding out our destination scoffed and refused to take us. We were puzzled but don’t possess enough Spanish to get a clear understanding of why they won’t drive into the centre of town. We figured out the only way we were getting to our hotel was to leave the relative order of the terminal compound to the absolute chaos of the street. There we had no trouble hailing a raggedy unofficial looking taxi that we were warned against.  We weren’t raped, robbed or murdered, only the driver had quite a hard time finding the place, but a few circles and we found ourselves in bosom of tranquility in yet another a chaotic city. The hotel is a 300-year-old stone building with tall vaulted ceilings and volcanic stonewalls. The staff is gracious and helpful.

 

Hostal El Conquistador

Mercaderes 409

Telefono: 212916

Arequipa-Peru

Email: elconquistadorh@hotmail.com

The elevation is beginning to take its toll on us, that and the bus ride, and probably last nights dinner in Nasca. Were not feeling all that adventurous tonight. Jen and I took a tour of the Monasterio D Santa Catalina and took diner at a restaurant called Zig Zag. Traditional Andean fare spruced up to a gourmet standard with healthy eating in mind. Back to the hotel for an early night and rest.

The hotel offered laundry service that caused us some frustration. I dropped our clothes at the laundry and was assured it would be ready for 07:00 the next day; important as we had already arranged transport to the canyon for 08:00. What was I thinking? Of course it wasn’t ready, and what’s worse, washed but not dry. We got them stuffed into our bags and managed to be only a little late for our bus, The Hotel was somewhat apologetic, but I still had to negotiate to get the price for the laundry, reduced at best. Despite this little problem I would recommend this hotel to everyone.

Night Bus To Arequipa

It’s 05:50; I woke up because the bus has stopped. How long? I look at my watch; we must be close. Why are we stopped? A light fog obliterates any definition between the ocean and the sky. I’m perched on the second story, last seat, right in front of the bathroom (worst place to be on the bus).

The sky has just enough light that I can see the churning waves of the Pacific crushing into the craggy cliffs 150 feet or so below us. Clusters of stunted islands rupture the sea at sharp angles as if inside the mouth of a mad shark with bad teeth. I have to press my face against the window to see the sliver of mountain road between our bus and certain death should the bus move even a foot to the right. 

A steady line of tractor trailers and buses inch past, moving north opposite us on a narrow Pan American Hwy. As it brightens we begin to move south again on the winding coastal road. Where at the top of a hill and I see a continuous line of traffic is stacked up in front of us, literally no breaks, truck after truck and then a bus or two for as far as I can see. The fog lies just under the road, I imagine the heat from all the exhaust is keeping it at bay. The stewardess informs us that an accident ahead is causing the delay but seams confident we won’t be to late arriving in Arequipa. From the bits and piece that I understood a car had crashed and caught fire. North and south traffic is being rotated in 20 minutes intervals. I think we’ll find out in 1km, so at this rate, an hour or so. Ok so there was no car on fire but there was a gasoline truck on its side, leaking. A water truck was pumping water in what is likely an attempt to dilute the gasoline. I didn’t see any rescue personal and it looks like the truck had been there awhile.

Nasca "Bones and Gold"

Breakfast and booking ahead for Ica and to visit the Museo Regional De Ica before busing it to Nasca. The museum visit in Ica was rushed; we only had 45minutes before our Nasca bus. All the displays are in Spanish an unfortunately we didn’t have time for the English speaking guided tour. Wish we did, there are some pretty creepy, cool things to see. It would have been a great primer for the burial sight at Nasca. They have a mock up of the Nasca lines in a back compound. It’s kind off welfare but it’s as closes as we’re likely to get this visit.

Once in Nasca we found a tour guide to take us on an express tour of a few sights.  We chose the Chauchilla Cemetery, Acueducto de Ocongalla, and a local pottery studio. We had little time as usual the sun was going to bed to early for us. Jo, a Kentucky gal, didn’t mind the express tour and joined us. 

 We began at the cemetery, on the way passing a contemporary graveyard that held its own interest. The cemetery is on a lonely windy plain. The bones of the disturbed graves are strewn over the plateau. The excavated graves have been repaired as well as the archeologist could.

After the burial sight, we out drove the falling sun to exam the ancient aqueduct system still in use and maintained by local farmers. Interesting aside one of the crops was a cactus that attracted parasitic insect called Cochineal. The insect excretes carminic acid that reacts with the host cactus to produce a red die. It has been harvested since Incan times and is used today to produces lipstick and food die. The openings go on for miles every 25 feet or so and are use to exam and access the water. Effectively they are ancient manholes.

We then went to a one of the many skilled pottery makers in town. He demonstrated the traditional hand building process and was busy making a series of replicas of ancient pottery for museums. Unfortunately as we left Jo had realized her camera was missing. We went back to the pottery gallery but it was gone. That sucks! Our last stop was a small museum. It was little more than a demonstration by a local miner of the gold extraction process he and others like him practice. It was really quite entertaining as he a funny man. It ended in him trying to sell some of the jewelry he said he made from the gold he extracted. We didn’t buy anything but the jewelry was top notch.

Many of the locals have been extracting gold by hand with pick and shovel for years. For there toil they get about $40.00 a day worth of color. I’m told the government wasn’t getting tax from these operations and has allowed a large multinational mining company in the valley. Some of the local feel as though there community sees little of the economic benefits of the mining activities. Further there are conflicting reports as to the environmental impact of mining in the area. The native individual miners continue to mine the area but I was given the impression their activity might be less than legal. I understand they are now attempting to legitimize their activities in an attempt to maintain their livelihood and control over their environment. I confirmed none of this or even attempted to get the story of the large mines or government but it s an interesting story that is one of many that is not being reported on. After a quick dinner were off to Cruz Del Sur for a long over night trip to Arequipa.