I sit here in the airport in Santiago. Chile.
The trip is over and I am on the second leg of my long journey home - a journey that began at 1.30am this morning with a flight from La Paz to some random town in Chile, before continuing at 9am with a flight to Santiago.
I have spent the day in Chile...but actually I could have been anywhere in the world as I dragged my exhaused and overwhelmed self to an air conditioned mall and sat in a cinema to quietly watch a movie.
I have spent the day reflecting on the last 4 months - the things that I have seen, the people I have met, the places I've been.
So much has happened....
My first stop was one of the most important to me....to Europe where I spent longed for quality time with soulmates in England and Spain.
I have celebrated two of the year's biggest events side-by-side with two of the people I love so much - christmas in Zurich with my oldest friend and New Year's Eve in Barcelona with my 'best' one...
I have soaked myself in the familiarity of my English life....seamlessly and effortlessly re-integrating my life with those of my so-much-loved and missed friends in this country and enjoying every moment of the simply perfect and easy comfort that is my second home.
I have lived my own Parisian dream. Learning to love my favourite city in a whole new way. Becoming friends with the people within it and dousing myself in its language. The friends I met there became a part of my life - from all over the world we shared a love of the city and a desire to learn the language....not to mention a desire to drink all the cocktails we could in little parisian bistros on some of the most fashionable streets in europe. I became a tour guide, gleefully opening my parisian apartment door to my London-based friends as they took the opportunity to visit my life there, giving them a taste of the experiences I was enjoying, alongside the best of french cheese and wine.
Leaving Europe was difficult, as I always knew it would be, but my experiences in Latin America have proven to be some of the most interesting, memorable, difficult and life-affirming as any I have experienced in my life.
Buenos Aires - the beat of the tango and the smell of the coffee....steak cooked to perfection. Argentina led seamlessly into Brazil as I spent time with some of the people that I will remember most from this trip - a crazily fun group of aussies and brits and scandinavians who made the natural wonders of Iguazu Falls and the harbourside Brazilian town of Paraty even more vivid for me as we partied and explored and marvelled together. By the time we hit Rio it seemed only natural to be together and experience the week-long party of our lifetimes in eachother's company....even while I met even more people to love - splitting my time as much as I could with the promise of more and more caparinhas to keep the party flowing....
Peru....at first a break from the craziness that had been the weeks before, it steadily became a facinating country for me....rich in ancient culture, deeply felt religions and beliefs and some of the friendliest of people. More and more I delved deep into the history of the country, visiting ruins, glimpsing condors and llamas and playing in the cities until the creme-de-la-creme, the Inca Trail, was upon me and I struggled and panted and ached and laughed through the most challenging experience of my life with yet more amazing people....people I will never forget as being the ones who were beside me all the way...
The wonders of Peru gave way to a glimpse of the hard beauty that is Bolivia....the perfect full stop to a trip that has been exactly what I was hoping for as a life changing and life challenging experience.
I have been esctatically happy. I have been heartbreakingly lonely. I have cried. I have laughed hysterically. I have been pushed to breaking point and I have survived. I have danced as if my life depended on it. I have sung at the top of my lungs. I have seen some of the most breathtaking wonders of the world. I have reflected. I have made so so many new memories and so many new friends. I have gained a new perspective.
It truly has been the trip of a lifetime. The second such trip that I have been lucky enough to experience.
And now. Home. To my family and friends who allow me leave with as much understanding as they can muster. Who understand that this travelling malarky is a part of who I am. And who will understand when I turn around and start planning the next trip...
Gypsy...
Till next time....
Friday, 1 April 2011
Bolivian Beauty
The shores of Lake Titicaca, and its main Peruvian city, Puno, were our last stop in Peru...and, we farewelled the country that had been host to me for almost 3 weeks, with fervour as we drank in a local pub before stumbling into a kareoke bar to scare the locals with our singing ('Allllllllllllllllways' by Bon Jovie was the favourite) and then back to the pub before stumbling home in the wee hours.
Nursing sore heads the next morning we navigated the tricky Bolivian immigration (two offices on the Peruvian side, walk across the border, two more offices on the Bolivian side plus another check before a ferry crossing that seemed fairly pointless....my passport has never been so flicked through...) and made our way to La Paz.
By this time I had officially joined the other group with whom I had hiked Macchu Picchu. Through the hike and post-hike celebrations we had formed bonds that I could not dream of breaking and, besides, I was hoping for an extra day in La Paz than my original itinerary provided. It seemed seamless to join my friends on their bus and stay in the same hotel....exploring the Bolivian capital of La Paz together.
I was grateful for that extra time when I, unwittingly, fell in love with La Paz.
Gritty. Edgy. Dirty.
Hints of illegality permeate everyday life here - despite the armies of police on every corner. Five seconds here proves that a bribe will save the day and, if you're after a little something under the table, all you have to do is look interested.
In and amongst the dark underworld lies a city boasting great food, cheap drinks and an edgy, fun feel that makes you anticipate the un -anticipatable....you never know what will happen next.
I had saved the majority of my souviner shopping until i reached La Paz, with the knowledge gained from friends who told me that the shopping is cheap and fabulous. They weren't wrong. I now can't close my backpack. And even so I have spent less than US$100 on knick nacks and gifts.
Having spent the day boosting the Bolivian economy significantly, we finished our last day together in a cosy little pub munching on the best pasta I've tasted since I left Europe before saying our sad goodbyes and leaving for the airport.
I dub them the Inca Trail crew....the group of people that I met that very first day of the walk of my life, and with whom I have spent every day since. They are the latest of a long list of amazingly interesting fun people that I have met over the past 4 months - meeting people all over the world FROM all over the world is one of the most significant reasons that I love travelling and this crew was no different.
Once again it is saying goodbye that wrenches the heart...but the memories make the goodbye worthwhile.
Till next time...
Nursing sore heads the next morning we navigated the tricky Bolivian immigration (two offices on the Peruvian side, walk across the border, two more offices on the Bolivian side plus another check before a ferry crossing that seemed fairly pointless....my passport has never been so flicked through...) and made our way to La Paz.
By this time I had officially joined the other group with whom I had hiked Macchu Picchu. Through the hike and post-hike celebrations we had formed bonds that I could not dream of breaking and, besides, I was hoping for an extra day in La Paz than my original itinerary provided. It seemed seamless to join my friends on their bus and stay in the same hotel....exploring the Bolivian capital of La Paz together.
I was grateful for that extra time when I, unwittingly, fell in love with La Paz.
Gritty. Edgy. Dirty.
Hints of illegality permeate everyday life here - despite the armies of police on every corner. Five seconds here proves that a bribe will save the day and, if you're after a little something under the table, all you have to do is look interested.
In and amongst the dark underworld lies a city boasting great food, cheap drinks and an edgy, fun feel that makes you anticipate the un -anticipatable....you never know what will happen next.
I had saved the majority of my souviner shopping until i reached La Paz, with the knowledge gained from friends who told me that the shopping is cheap and fabulous. They weren't wrong. I now can't close my backpack. And even so I have spent less than US$100 on knick nacks and gifts.
Having spent the day boosting the Bolivian economy significantly, we finished our last day together in a cosy little pub munching on the best pasta I've tasted since I left Europe before saying our sad goodbyes and leaving for the airport.
I dub them the Inca Trail crew....the group of people that I met that very first day of the walk of my life, and with whom I have spent every day since. They are the latest of a long list of amazingly interesting fun people that I have met over the past 4 months - meeting people all over the world FROM all over the world is one of the most significant reasons that I love travelling and this crew was no different.
Once again it is saying goodbye that wrenches the heart...but the memories make the goodbye worthwhile.
Till next time...
Titi....Caca
Yes. Funny name isn't it. Lake Titicaca. Ok. You can stop giggling now.
The highest navigable lake in the world (a little fact for the next pub quiz), Lake Titicaca straddles Puru and Bolivia like a giant puma.
In fact, with the imagination that only chewing copious amounts of coca leaves can bring, the andean people believe that the lake is, in fact, in the shape of a puma and thus its name. Titicaca, in the local dialect, means Giant Puma (another usless pub fact).
Continuing on our south bound trail through Peru our travels took us to the banks of this magnificent expanse of water. More like a sea (sometimes you can't see the other side and when you can, more often than not, you're gazing at snowcapped mountains) the lake is dotted with various little islands and penninsulars boasting little fishing villages with locals that, until tourism hit 30 years ago, had not changed the way they lived for thousands of years.
The most facinating of these are the Uros floating islands where we stopped for a little visit. Crazily these islands are made of reeds and do litterally float in the lake. The locals remained untouched for centuries - not even bothered by the incas or the spanish - managing to retain many of their traditions to this day. Living in teeny tiny reed huts, they rebuild their houses every 3 months and their islands every 100 years. While 80 percent of the islands have embraced tourism, and boast high tech solar panels and tvs in their simple abodes, a small group prefer to live the way they always have and, presumably, they go about their business quietly without swarms of camera touting westerners.
The ones that have embraced tourism, however, have done so with fervour, showing us into their homes and demonstrating how they build their islands, catch their fish and bargain with mainlanders in the tourism off-season. Despite the commercialism of it the floating islands are facinating and the people happy and friendly....a good start to our introduction to the people of Titicaca Lake.
I was already reasonably dubious about our next stop...a homestay with a local family on the banks of the lake, staying in simple mud brick homes and lending a hand to help them with their daily chores. The concept sounded wonderful, but after I had chopped meter-long weeds out of my host's vege patch with a sickle for an hour it was beginning to feel more like slave labour. Next my friend and I were piled into hubby's rickety old tinny and cast out into the lake to help him cast his nets. I didn't mind the ride, but my friend, who can't swim, was more than a little nervous.
Apparently the local's favourite sport is volleyball so we gathered down at the beach, with the village's bull and cows as audience and occasional ball boys, to play a game. The local ladies joined in, colourful traditional costumes and all, before herding us all back to our various houses for dinner. We had been asked to bring as gifts some items that the locals find hard to get hold of - living, as they do, in the middle of nowhere....I took rice, sugar and pasta for my family - which may have been a mistake as my 'mumma' excitedly made us cold spagetti with sprinkled peruvian cheese (kind of like an exceptionally salty feta) on top. yum. not. Others had amazing meals. And others made the meals themselves - which may have explained why they were amazing. Still, it was interesting to watch 'mumma' cook dinner over a traditional open flame oven.
The 'mud hut' bit was fine. The beds were smothered with alpaca blankets which were so warm as to be smothering....though I was dubious about their cleanliness... no laundry mats or washing machines here - but my friend and I ate alone and there was very little of the interaction with the family that I had hoped for. The experience overall was what I would call 'interesting' but underwhelming and I was a little disappointed.
Call me a snob. Call me a princess. But let's just say I was glad to leave bright and early the next morning and return to civilization...
Till next time...
The highest navigable lake in the world (a little fact for the next pub quiz), Lake Titicaca straddles Puru and Bolivia like a giant puma.
In fact, with the imagination that only chewing copious amounts of coca leaves can bring, the andean people believe that the lake is, in fact, in the shape of a puma and thus its name. Titicaca, in the local dialect, means Giant Puma (another usless pub fact).
Continuing on our south bound trail through Peru our travels took us to the banks of this magnificent expanse of water. More like a sea (sometimes you can't see the other side and when you can, more often than not, you're gazing at snowcapped mountains) the lake is dotted with various little islands and penninsulars boasting little fishing villages with locals that, until tourism hit 30 years ago, had not changed the way they lived for thousands of years.
The most facinating of these are the Uros floating islands where we stopped for a little visit. Crazily these islands are made of reeds and do litterally float in the lake. The locals remained untouched for centuries - not even bothered by the incas or the spanish - managing to retain many of their traditions to this day. Living in teeny tiny reed huts, they rebuild their houses every 3 months and their islands every 100 years. While 80 percent of the islands have embraced tourism, and boast high tech solar panels and tvs in their simple abodes, a small group prefer to live the way they always have and, presumably, they go about their business quietly without swarms of camera touting westerners.
The ones that have embraced tourism, however, have done so with fervour, showing us into their homes and demonstrating how they build their islands, catch their fish and bargain with mainlanders in the tourism off-season. Despite the commercialism of it the floating islands are facinating and the people happy and friendly....a good start to our introduction to the people of Titicaca Lake.
I was already reasonably dubious about our next stop...a homestay with a local family on the banks of the lake, staying in simple mud brick homes and lending a hand to help them with their daily chores. The concept sounded wonderful, but after I had chopped meter-long weeds out of my host's vege patch with a sickle for an hour it was beginning to feel more like slave labour. Next my friend and I were piled into hubby's rickety old tinny and cast out into the lake to help him cast his nets. I didn't mind the ride, but my friend, who can't swim, was more than a little nervous.
Apparently the local's favourite sport is volleyball so we gathered down at the beach, with the village's bull and cows as audience and occasional ball boys, to play a game. The local ladies joined in, colourful traditional costumes and all, before herding us all back to our various houses for dinner. We had been asked to bring as gifts some items that the locals find hard to get hold of - living, as they do, in the middle of nowhere....I took rice, sugar and pasta for my family - which may have been a mistake as my 'mumma' excitedly made us cold spagetti with sprinkled peruvian cheese (kind of like an exceptionally salty feta) on top. yum. not. Others had amazing meals. And others made the meals themselves - which may have explained why they were amazing. Still, it was interesting to watch 'mumma' cook dinner over a traditional open flame oven.
The 'mud hut' bit was fine. The beds were smothered with alpaca blankets which were so warm as to be smothering....though I was dubious about their cleanliness... no laundry mats or washing machines here - but my friend and I ate alone and there was very little of the interaction with the family that I had hoped for. The experience overall was what I would call 'interesting' but underwhelming and I was a little disappointed.
Call me a snob. Call me a princess. But let's just say I was glad to leave bright and early the next morning and return to civilization...
Till next time...
Thursday, 31 March 2011
Cocktails in Cusco
After climbing the Inca Trail for four days to reach Macchu Picchu we deserved a party.
And what better place to treat ourselves and to numb our aching legs with a cocktail than in the party town of Cusco.
Meeting my Inca Trail buddies at their hotel we wandered through the Inca-wall-lined streets to 'Fallen Angel'....a cocktail-come-wine bar that would sit happily in any modern city in the world. With beautiful art work lining the walls, dim lighting and a cocktail menu to rival that of any West End bar, I was a million miles away from the dusty trail and inca ruins.
This was much more my style.
Sipping our daiquiris and popping the cork off a well deserved bottle of champagne, we savoured appetizers and reminiced over a walk that seemed a world away.
Cusco comes alive at night. From sleeply colonial city reeking of inca history during the day, at night it becomes a party town with touters drawing crowds into nightclubs surrounding the main square. With promises of free drinks we chose one pumping out samba tunes with a live band and plenty of happy locals.
Dancing the night away it was a reward for the work we'd done and the trek we'd accomplished....and a reminder of where we really belong.
Till next time...
And what better place to treat ourselves and to numb our aching legs with a cocktail than in the party town of Cusco.
Meeting my Inca Trail buddies at their hotel we wandered through the Inca-wall-lined streets to 'Fallen Angel'....a cocktail-come-wine bar that would sit happily in any modern city in the world. With beautiful art work lining the walls, dim lighting and a cocktail menu to rival that of any West End bar, I was a million miles away from the dusty trail and inca ruins.
This was much more my style.
Sipping our daiquiris and popping the cork off a well deserved bottle of champagne, we savoured appetizers and reminiced over a walk that seemed a world away.
Cusco comes alive at night. From sleeply colonial city reeking of inca history during the day, at night it becomes a party town with touters drawing crowds into nightclubs surrounding the main square. With promises of free drinks we chose one pumping out samba tunes with a live band and plenty of happy locals.
Dancing the night away it was a reward for the work we'd done and the trek we'd accomplished....and a reminder of where we really belong.
Till next time...
Wednesday, 30 March 2011
The Lost City of the Incas
It was the most challenging thing, both physically and mentally, that I have ever done.
Trekking through the Peruvian Andes for up to 8 hours a day, following the trail of the Incas to arrive at their famous 'lost city' took 4 hard days of one step in front of the other....Up and down mountains we climbed, reaching our campsites by about 5pm and collapsing into the dining tent ready to be served magnificent meals by our chefs and cosying up into our sleeping bags before beginning the days over again. We coped with no showers and filthy drop toilets with no paper....cleaning away the day's sweat with baby wipes and using copious amounts of deodarant to disguise our stink. It was tough...no princesses here.
Starting on day one at the 82km mark I met the new group we would be travelling with. And as soon as I saw them I knew I had found 'my' kind of people. Mainly aussies, they are young and fun and I immediately integrated into their group and felt I had known them forever. Their presence helped me make it - of that I have no doubt.
I took the Inca trail as slowly as I could possibly manage, helped along by two of my new friends, Peter and Kasey, who encouraged and supported me....helping eachother get over the tough bits and taking little stops every now and then to catch our breath, gaze at magnificent views and to smell the roses.
We were also helped along by two awesome peruvian guides who glibly told us they had done this trek well over 300 times. While they didn't even raise a sweat Lewis and Jefferson understood that we did and were kind and supportive the whole way, pointing out interesting wildlife and flora and co-ordinating our team of porters who ran the trail with weights of up to 25kgs strapped to their backs....all our gear, tents and food. If I felt like complaining I only had to look at these amazing men who run the inca trail for a living without even raising a sweat.
Day two was the toughest. Ascending a long steep path for 4 hours we reached the highest point of the trek, appropriately named 'Dead Woman's Pass' at a hight of 4200 meters (13, 779ft) before decending to a valley and then (what comes down must go up...) ascending again to the second pass and reaching our campsite for the night - well over 8 hours after we had started the day. We were fighting altitude sickness and the thin air found that high in the mountains....while I would have been breathless at the best of times, the lack of oxygen made the climb just that little bit tougher.
By the third evening we were desperate for beer. We were almost there and felt that we deserved a reward. Luckily there was a little restaurant at our campsite that evening that sold the stuff....which we mistakenly drank in copious amounts, much to our regret the next day as we woke at 3am in the pouring rain to hike the last 2 hours to macchu picchu. Soggy, exhausted and hungover, Macchu Picchu was a bit of an anti-climax after everything we had been through to get there.
Sullenly clamboring to the sun gate - the famously scenic entry to the ruins - I was exhausted and over it, cursing the incas for building their stupid city in such a remote location. But still I couldn't help but gasp at the site of the ruins lying before me. It is thought that Machu Picchu was built around 1440 as a university and place of worship for incan nobility, however there is eidence that this had been an incan site for much longer than that. With temples, palaces and living quarters as well as evidence of astonomical observatories, it was a facinating place that we wandered around for a couple of hours before heading back gratefully on a bus (thank God for vehicles with wheels to save aching legs) to a restaurant with real coca-cola and hamburgers.
As I bumped along the road back to civilization with a filthy body and a light heart I was more proud of myself for completing this trek than many other accomplishments in my lifetime....
Till next time...
Trekking through the Peruvian Andes for up to 8 hours a day, following the trail of the Incas to arrive at their famous 'lost city' took 4 hard days of one step in front of the other....Up and down mountains we climbed, reaching our campsites by about 5pm and collapsing into the dining tent ready to be served magnificent meals by our chefs and cosying up into our sleeping bags before beginning the days over again. We coped with no showers and filthy drop toilets with no paper....cleaning away the day's sweat with baby wipes and using copious amounts of deodarant to disguise our stink. It was tough...no princesses here.
Starting on day one at the 82km mark I met the new group we would be travelling with. And as soon as I saw them I knew I had found 'my' kind of people. Mainly aussies, they are young and fun and I immediately integrated into their group and felt I had known them forever. Their presence helped me make it - of that I have no doubt.
I took the Inca trail as slowly as I could possibly manage, helped along by two of my new friends, Peter and Kasey, who encouraged and supported me....helping eachother get over the tough bits and taking little stops every now and then to catch our breath, gaze at magnificent views and to smell the roses.
We were also helped along by two awesome peruvian guides who glibly told us they had done this trek well over 300 times. While they didn't even raise a sweat Lewis and Jefferson understood that we did and were kind and supportive the whole way, pointing out interesting wildlife and flora and co-ordinating our team of porters who ran the trail with weights of up to 25kgs strapped to their backs....all our gear, tents and food. If I felt like complaining I only had to look at these amazing men who run the inca trail for a living without even raising a sweat.
Day two was the toughest. Ascending a long steep path for 4 hours we reached the highest point of the trek, appropriately named 'Dead Woman's Pass' at a hight of 4200 meters (13, 779ft) before decending to a valley and then (what comes down must go up...) ascending again to the second pass and reaching our campsite for the night - well over 8 hours after we had started the day. We were fighting altitude sickness and the thin air found that high in the mountains....while I would have been breathless at the best of times, the lack of oxygen made the climb just that little bit tougher.
By the third evening we were desperate for beer. We were almost there and felt that we deserved a reward. Luckily there was a little restaurant at our campsite that evening that sold the stuff....which we mistakenly drank in copious amounts, much to our regret the next day as we woke at 3am in the pouring rain to hike the last 2 hours to macchu picchu. Soggy, exhausted and hungover, Macchu Picchu was a bit of an anti-climax after everything we had been through to get there.
Sullenly clamboring to the sun gate - the famously scenic entry to the ruins - I was exhausted and over it, cursing the incas for building their stupid city in such a remote location. But still I couldn't help but gasp at the site of the ruins lying before me. It is thought that Machu Picchu was built around 1440 as a university and place of worship for incan nobility, however there is eidence that this had been an incan site for much longer than that. With temples, palaces and living quarters as well as evidence of astonomical observatories, it was a facinating place that we wandered around for a couple of hours before heading back gratefully on a bus (thank God for vehicles with wheels to save aching legs) to a restaurant with real coca-cola and hamburgers.
As I bumped along the road back to civilization with a filthy body and a light heart I was more proud of myself for completing this trek than many other accomplishments in my lifetime....
Till next time...
Sunday, 20 March 2011
The ‘Naval’ of the World
At times we are all the centre of our own universe.
The Incas were no different.
With no knowledge of any other world beyond their own they named their most prized and beautiful city the Inca word for ‘naval’ or centre, Qusqo. This eventually become known as Cuzco, a beautifully ancient city that is still known to be the centre of all things Inca and is the main city of the Peruvian Andes.
Wandering through the ancient streets today I gazed at still-standing Inca walls, built against the all too common earthquakes here by the clever method of building on an angle - which must make them stronger as they have survived every masssive earthquake since the 1400s. Amazingly, after one initial earthquake levelled the town in the 1300s the Incas rebuilt the city in the shape of a puma - one of its main gods - with the (still existing) main square as its heart. The borders of the shape can still be seen today.
The most notable buildings in the main square and its outskirts are the churches (all 18 of them in a matter of blocks) - all built in the 16th century when the Spanish invaded and imposed their catholic religion on the bewildered Incas, tearing down temples and palaces and building imposing cathedrals in their place.
While the Incas had no choice but to adopt Catholicism, they refused to completely denounce their own ancient religion of worship to the sun, Mother Earth, and it’s deities - the snake (the underground), the puma (the earth) and the condor (the sky). While obediently building statues of Jesus and the saints, the Incan sculptures secretly placed images of the sun, moon and stars on robes, placed suns behind the saint’s heads and managed to combine the two religions with a minimum of fuss - continuing to worship their own gods while adopting the God of the Spanish Catholics. Even today the Andean people have a sort of mixed religion, making offerings to the mountains and mother earth as well as participating in Christian festivals and masses with religious fervour and devotion.
We wandered through the local markets, wincing at the meat section with its cattle hooves and bullock’s noses, and admiring the fresh fruit and veg straight from the rich soil of the high plateaus in the mountains. As well as visiting a museum dedicated to the history of the Incas, complete with (more) mummies, pottery relics and a lot of information about how this fascinating culture lived their lives.
Cusco is tourist central, one of Peru’s most famous cities, and the starting point for trips to Macchu Picchu. There are modern restaurants of every cuisine possible, sweet little coffee shops, and, of course a thriving Irish pub opposite an English one where an English friend and I stopped for a beer to watch the Irish thrash the English in the rugby.
Tomorrow my search for Inca ruins really kicks off as we head to the Sacred Valley for one night before heading off on our four day trek to Macchu Picchu. After a long briefing tonight about the trek I’m feeling a little nervous. The second day (Tuesday) is supposed to be the hardest with long uphill hikes…but, as we were told tonight, 80% of the trek is about having a positive attitude (tell that to my aching legs...!)
Till after Macchu Picchu...
The Incas were no different.
With no knowledge of any other world beyond their own they named their most prized and beautiful city the Inca word for ‘naval’ or centre, Qusqo. This eventually become known as Cuzco, a beautifully ancient city that is still known to be the centre of all things Inca and is the main city of the Peruvian Andes.
Wandering through the ancient streets today I gazed at still-standing Inca walls, built against the all too common earthquakes here by the clever method of building on an angle - which must make them stronger as they have survived every masssive earthquake since the 1400s. Amazingly, after one initial earthquake levelled the town in the 1300s the Incas rebuilt the city in the shape of a puma - one of its main gods - with the (still existing) main square as its heart. The borders of the shape can still be seen today.
The most notable buildings in the main square and its outskirts are the churches (all 18 of them in a matter of blocks) - all built in the 16th century when the Spanish invaded and imposed their catholic religion on the bewildered Incas, tearing down temples and palaces and building imposing cathedrals in their place.
While the Incas had no choice but to adopt Catholicism, they refused to completely denounce their own ancient religion of worship to the sun, Mother Earth, and it’s deities - the snake (the underground), the puma (the earth) and the condor (the sky). While obediently building statues of Jesus and the saints, the Incan sculptures secretly placed images of the sun, moon and stars on robes, placed suns behind the saint’s heads and managed to combine the two religions with a minimum of fuss - continuing to worship their own gods while adopting the God of the Spanish Catholics. Even today the Andean people have a sort of mixed religion, making offerings to the mountains and mother earth as well as participating in Christian festivals and masses with religious fervour and devotion.
We wandered through the local markets, wincing at the meat section with its cattle hooves and bullock’s noses, and admiring the fresh fruit and veg straight from the rich soil of the high plateaus in the mountains. As well as visiting a museum dedicated to the history of the Incas, complete with (more) mummies, pottery relics and a lot of information about how this fascinating culture lived their lives.
Cusco is tourist central, one of Peru’s most famous cities, and the starting point for trips to Macchu Picchu. There are modern restaurants of every cuisine possible, sweet little coffee shops, and, of course a thriving Irish pub opposite an English one where an English friend and I stopped for a beer to watch the Irish thrash the English in the rugby.
Tomorrow my search for Inca ruins really kicks off as we head to the Sacred Valley for one night before heading off on our four day trek to Macchu Picchu. After a long briefing tonight about the trek I’m feeling a little nervous. The second day (Tuesday) is supposed to be the hardest with long uphill hikes…but, as we were told tonight, 80% of the trek is about having a positive attitude (tell that to my aching legs...!)
Till after Macchu Picchu...
Friday, 18 March 2011
The Flight of the Condor
Dodging donkeys and alpacas has become a normal part of my life for the past two days.
As we have travelled through itty bitty villages and stunningly diverse countryside we have seen everything from vincunas (a type of South American camel - like a llama or alpaca but wild and protected from extinction) to llamas and alpacas grazing by the side of the road....and sometimes venturing ON to the road. If the bus isn't swerving around exotic Peruvian creatures it is swerving around landslides or donkeys - with, or without, a colourful peruvian farmer bouncing along on its back. The locals are friendly, quick with a smile, but also quick to sell some sort of peruvian nick-knack. They are dressed in their traditional costumes, colourful and pretty with matching floral hats, I asked my guide if this was done for the tourists. It is not....I have seen them now walking down the narrow streets of their villages going about their daily chores dressed this way, leading their alpacas and carrying their babies across their shoulders in a colourful fabric sling...I find it charming and hopeful that there is still a culture that clings to its traditions on a daily basis.
While dodging donkeys we have driven through astonishing countryside. Having spent hours driving through the desert as we left Lima and Pisco, we are now deep in the Andes with lush green fields in the valleys framed by rocky, snow capped volcanoes and mountains. Arequipa itself, Peru's third largest city, is surrounded by three volcanoes, one of them, named 'Misty' is considered active...and, although she hasn't erupted since the 1400s the locals are wary...no less with all the natural disasters occuring in the world at the moment. Comforting. Perhaps to apease the mountains, the locals still make offerings of coca leaves (the bitter tasting leaves that are supposed to sort out all manner of ills including alltitude sickness), money and flowers. Thankfully they no longer offer babies...at least the catholic influence of the invading Spanish discouraged that particular practise.
Climbing high into the Andes we visited Culca Canyon - known to be one of the highest canyons in the world and famous for a large family of condors which draw crowds of tourists from all over the world in the early morning light, hoping for a glimpse of one of these magnificent birds. A glimpse is all I got, -while perched on a rock recovering from the hour long hike to the lookout point I saw people pointing down and managed to glimpse a wing before the bird disappeared. I waited for another 40 minutes to see another one - with no luck.
Recovery from my little walk took longer than it should because of one worrying factor that is becoming the bain of my life - alltitude sickness. From the moment I decided to come to Peru I knew that alltitude sickness may be an issue. It's discussed in all the books i've read. My doctor had a long chat with me about it before I left home. My guide speaks of nothing else. First thing every morning my fellow travellers and I compare of our symptoms. It's hard to explain what alltitude sickness feels like - it's almost like you feel drunk - but it's not as much fun. The air feels thin and it can be hard to breath. When we first reached 4000 meters I felt dizzy and breathless. Now, at about 3500 meters and slightly more acclimatised I have a throbbing headache and feel absolutely exhausted - even though all i've done is sat on a bus, gone for a light hike and searched a rocky ravine for condors...oh...and eaten.
I could never say I didn't eat well in Peru. The traditional food here is simple and hearty. Chicken soup is a staple (which makes me feel like I should be curled up in bed nursing a cold) as are potatoes and rice. Together. Not potatoes OR rice. Potatoes AND rice. It's a carb lovers dream. We have eaten alpaca-meat stews and a lot of corn. Fish caught straight from the river and delicious desserts made with local fruits. The only thing we haven't had a chance to try yet is the local delicacy....guinea pig. It's only a matter of time.
Tomorrow brings us two 6 hour bus rides to get us to Cuzco...the reason I am here...the beginning of our discovery of inca ruins and, on Monday, the start of a 4 day hike to Machu Piccu.
Till next time...
As we have travelled through itty bitty villages and stunningly diverse countryside we have seen everything from vincunas (a type of South American camel - like a llama or alpaca but wild and protected from extinction) to llamas and alpacas grazing by the side of the road....and sometimes venturing ON to the road. If the bus isn't swerving around exotic Peruvian creatures it is swerving around landslides or donkeys - with, or without, a colourful peruvian farmer bouncing along on its back. The locals are friendly, quick with a smile, but also quick to sell some sort of peruvian nick-knack. They are dressed in their traditional costumes, colourful and pretty with matching floral hats, I asked my guide if this was done for the tourists. It is not....I have seen them now walking down the narrow streets of their villages going about their daily chores dressed this way, leading their alpacas and carrying their babies across their shoulders in a colourful fabric sling...I find it charming and hopeful that there is still a culture that clings to its traditions on a daily basis.
While dodging donkeys we have driven through astonishing countryside. Having spent hours driving through the desert as we left Lima and Pisco, we are now deep in the Andes with lush green fields in the valleys framed by rocky, snow capped volcanoes and mountains. Arequipa itself, Peru's third largest city, is surrounded by three volcanoes, one of them, named 'Misty' is considered active...and, although she hasn't erupted since the 1400s the locals are wary...no less with all the natural disasters occuring in the world at the moment. Comforting. Perhaps to apease the mountains, the locals still make offerings of coca leaves (the bitter tasting leaves that are supposed to sort out all manner of ills including alltitude sickness), money and flowers. Thankfully they no longer offer babies...at least the catholic influence of the invading Spanish discouraged that particular practise.
Climbing high into the Andes we visited Culca Canyon - known to be one of the highest canyons in the world and famous for a large family of condors which draw crowds of tourists from all over the world in the early morning light, hoping for a glimpse of one of these magnificent birds. A glimpse is all I got, -while perched on a rock recovering from the hour long hike to the lookout point I saw people pointing down and managed to glimpse a wing before the bird disappeared. I waited for another 40 minutes to see another one - with no luck.
Recovery from my little walk took longer than it should because of one worrying factor that is becoming the bain of my life - alltitude sickness. From the moment I decided to come to Peru I knew that alltitude sickness may be an issue. It's discussed in all the books i've read. My doctor had a long chat with me about it before I left home. My guide speaks of nothing else. First thing every morning my fellow travellers and I compare of our symptoms. It's hard to explain what alltitude sickness feels like - it's almost like you feel drunk - but it's not as much fun. The air feels thin and it can be hard to breath. When we first reached 4000 meters I felt dizzy and breathless. Now, at about 3500 meters and slightly more acclimatised I have a throbbing headache and feel absolutely exhausted - even though all i've done is sat on a bus, gone for a light hike and searched a rocky ravine for condors...oh...and eaten.
I could never say I didn't eat well in Peru. The traditional food here is simple and hearty. Chicken soup is a staple (which makes me feel like I should be curled up in bed nursing a cold) as are potatoes and rice. Together. Not potatoes OR rice. Potatoes AND rice. It's a carb lovers dream. We have eaten alpaca-meat stews and a lot of corn. Fish caught straight from the river and delicious desserts made with local fruits. The only thing we haven't had a chance to try yet is the local delicacy....guinea pig. It's only a matter of time.
Tomorrow brings us two 6 hour bus rides to get us to Cuzco...the reason I am here...the beginning of our discovery of inca ruins and, on Monday, the start of a 4 day hike to Machu Piccu.
Till next time...
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