Thursday, November 23, 2006

a real tourist

Shortly after sending the new trainees back to Lima, and recovering from illness (I’m sure I’ve lost at least 10 pounds this year). I meet up with two friends for a well deserved trip south to the department of Ica. This coastal department neighbors Lima and is the home of five PC volunteers. It’s almost always hot year round, due to its desert-like climate, and can be a little overcast from the Lima fog and smog.

None of the three of us had ever been to Ica, and even though it’s only a few hours by bus from Lima we had been reading in our guide books that it’s a great tourist vacation spot. In spite of the fact that Peruvians think I’m a tourist everyday, (at least when I’m out of site) this time I really wanted to be a tourist. The trip wouldn’t be too expensive, as long as I could stay on a budget (yeah right!). We had planned to hit three of the major cities in the department, Pisco, Nazca and Ica.

I hadn’t been away from La Libertad for months and was really looking forward to a relaxing and adventurous trip. On Halloween my good friend Emily and I took an overnight bus to Lima, arrived at 7am and immediately looked for the bus terminal to the city of Ica. We knew it was another 4-5 hours south to the city of Ica and we wanted to at least do some site seeing that first day. In transit we passed corn, cotton, asparagus, banana, and olive grove fields. Our friend Amy, who lives in Ica recommended that we stay in Huacachina which is a beautiful oasis in the middle of sand dunes. The oasis once was natural water, but now it’s pumped in from a far. People told us the water had special healing powers.

We checked into a cheap but posh hostel ($10 a piece) and learned from the staff about the popular sports of sand boarding and dune buggy rental. Other volunteers had done it and we thought it was worth the experience. Besides, I though, “When am I ever going have the opportunity to sand board on desert cliffs?” I’m from NH for Christ’s sake! Emily and I thought about it over a drink at the bar by the pool. We met a girl from Ireland who had just come in from Nazca. She told us about the famous Nazca lines and how it was spectacular. She was terribly sunburned from hiking through Chile with a group of Europeans.

We left our hostel to go to the bank in the city of Ica and see if there was anything touristy we could do while waiting for Ann to arrive from Lima. Due to the fact that it was a holiday (All saints day) the wine vineyards were closed. But to our advantage the city museum was open. A taxi driver in Trujillo had told me the night before that it was a cool museum especially for the mummies.

And the taxista was right. Ancient mummies from pre-Inca civilizations of the Paracas and Nazcan people. What a site! I have a fond appreciation for hidden tombs, ancient burial sites, barbaric surgical procedures, and learning about the beliefs and customs from these Peruvian ancestors. The museum also had a fascinating display of deformed skulls-similar to the Chinese foot binding history, these ancient people believed in tightly wrapping the skulls of their infants. Resulting in cranial deformities and even death. The skulls looked like alien remains, oval in shape, instead of round. How creepy!

Ann arrived that night to the hostel, and we planned out the next three days. We thought best to see a vineyard, (Ica is Peru’s wine country) and than sand board in the early evening to save ourselves from the sweltering sun. We toured two wineries, known as “bodegas”. Tacama is south America’s oldest winery. We met a family of Spaniards that day, and joined their tour. They were impressed with our Spanish, and that we could hold our own at the wine tasting portion. I bought a bottle for my host family. Later we ate toured a less commercial, more authentic home made winery where we learned about the more genuine way to make wine. This place was called Bodega Lazo, and was definitely less touristy but fun all the same. We tried their Pisco-from the national Peruvian drink Pisco Sour- and I choked it down. It’s like 90 proof.

Sanding was left to the afternoon, back at Huacachina. We argued prices and eventually got what we wanted, S/.40 a piece. Ann who is the most practical girl I know (she brings a small backpack for a week long trip) had only brought one pair of shoes…heals. I said, “Your going into the dunes in those? Damn girl!” Evidently she had forgotten about this opportunity when packing so lightly. The dune buggies are large, hand made 4x4 vehicles that looked dangerous to even stand next too. But I jumped in. And we were off, our driver tearing through the little town to place us neatly on top of the impressive sand dunes. It was anything but neat, like an amusement park ride. I was jolted, jostled, and molded into a new human being as we speed through the dunes, flying through the air over hills and peaks. Sand blew into my eyes, and into my dread locks. Once stopped, we appreciated the view, and jumped back into the car, snapped seat belts (logical) and drove off to another cliff.

From this point we tried sand boarding, very similar to snow boarding minus the snow. And the board is very basic, I mean a child could have made it in shop class. A plain rectangle, double tipped, and fabric bindings. I laughed even harder at the thought of Ann in heals in the shitty bindings. But, as the soldier she is, she sand boarded barefoot. Now that’s hardcore. After a few tries, and a few face plants in the sand…I picked up the technique. I was part of the elite few on the internationally known, John Stark Ski Team at one point in my short life. And turns out, sand boarding is way easier than snow boarding or even skiing for that matter. They waxed up our boards and we were off. Even Emily and Ann, self proclaimed “non-athletic” were rocking the sand (no pun intended) and taking hilarious pictures.

The sunset from the dunes was remarkable. And than it was dark. And cold. That night was left for Nazca the much anticipated excursion farther south to see the lines. Now these lines are more than special, they are enigmatic ground markings that have bewildered scientists and locals for centuries. And they can only be seen from one place, an aerial view by aircraft. The lines in the desert sand were made by the nazca people in AD 300-1000. There are dozens of symbols but the most intriguing are of plant and animal life of that time period. We arrived that night in the city of Nazca and were bombared with tourism agencies and taxi’s the moment we stepped off the bus. I wanted very badly to be a Peruvian and not an American in that moment. Complete chaos, people yelling, and a decision needed to be made. I knew we wouldn’t be going through this if we weren’t such blatent looking tourists. A man yelled my name. I looked up and he motioned us to his taxi. He was a hotel owner whose co-worker had met up hours earlier on the bus ride from the city of Ica. We agreed to stay at his hotel, because it was ridiculously cheap, $3.00 a piece.

Let’s just say the hotel is not worth writing about on this blog nor to the publishers of Lonely Plant or the Rough Guide. It’s just a place to rest, I say. We were there for a mear 8 hours. Fortunatly I took the advice from somebody to not eat breakfast as the short flight over the lines can be nauseous provoking. We watched a short video from terminal as the pilot prepped the plane. And once aboard I clutched on to the barf bag. How romantic. Emily took most of the pictures out the side windows as I dry heaved. And once that passed I enjoyed the rest of the flight. And I thought I was conditioning myself of this motion sickness problem by taking such rustic means of transport throughout the country. I guess not. I have yet to throw up on a Peruvian bus. And god knows those little 15 hour rides can be torture.

We ate breakfast and took a long drive out to a series of ceremonial burial cemeteries where the Nasca people built underground tombs and mummified their loved ones in the fetal position. The sun has damaged some of the sites, but most were in remarkably good shape given their age. The coolest part was the hair of the mummies, visible, thick dreadlocks. Evidently the longer and thicker your locks the more prestige one had. Sounds like my kind of peeps.

Next, our taxi driver took us to a ceramic making artisan, and than to a gold mining shop. Both owners still use traditional means in their craft. The ceramic maker molds, paints and glazes his work all by hand and heats the pottery in a adobe like stove. He uses his own facial oils to glaze his work. Likewise the gold miner uses a special filtration process to pull gold properties from other precious stones, they than purify the gold by grinding it with huge boulders. It’s refreshing to see laborers who maintain the age old methods of their artisan work.

We did some shopping in the plaza of Nazca and visited another museum less exciting than other exhibits we had seen, but a very modern and clean place. I liked the aqueducts outside the museum which were still in their original state. Emily realized at that point that she left her camera in Huacachina the night before at a store. We took a quick bus back north to Ica to look for the camera. But upon arriving at the exact location where she remembered setting it down, it wasn’t there. Fortunately for someone, it was a good find. But that left us down on luck, spirits low.

Still to come was another bus ride north to Pisco. This third city was similar to Ica and Nazca, in fact there town centers are so similar I was getting confused about where I was. That’s a sign of real foreigner. Lost, Confused and Helpless. Luck for me, I had two female bodyguards. We checked into our hotel, recommended by Amy, and made reservations next store with a travel agency who would take us to Paracas and the national reserve. Amy who is a PC environment volunteer works in the reserve to preserve the Ballesta Islands. While I’m in the sierra teaching people how to washing their hands, she’s on the coast playing with seals, sea lions and penguins. ¡No es justo!
An early start of 7:30am got us on a tour bus to the reserve. We took a boat out to the islands and saw another mysterious figure in the sand (much like the lines) but of a large candle stick instead.

The fog swept in and as we moved further from the coast my bare legs trembled. Shorts. What a dumb idea. They were the only clean thing to wear. The Ballesta Islands were hugs rocks covered with a diverse ecosystem of birds. So many different species land there, some endangered, that it’s prohibited to land and walk on the formations. I don’t think I’d want to though, after seeing all the guano-(bird poo). The pelicans, terns, penguins, seals and sea lions were impressive. I filmed a short movie from the boat with my camera. We made it back to the dock, ate breakfast and took off to see the rest of the reserve which Amy said was not as impressive. “It’s mostly desert, Matt, but there is a rock formation called the cathedral which is worth seeing.” So Ann stayed back, and Emily and I went to out to the reserve information center and to the Cathedral. I imagined something like Stonehenge, but it was a cave built into a cliff side. It was very windy, and sunny.

We left the reserve and to our surprise, in the tour bus cabin (where we sat) sparks began to fly. Emily freaked out, just about attacked me to sling the door open and we both jumped out to watch in horror as the bus exploded. But nothing happened. We waited on the desert sand, the bus a mere 20 feet away and still nothing happened. The rest of the passengers, a high school tour group, their chaperones, and a married couple (all Peruvian) waited in the vehicle patiently for the problem to be fixed. Meanwhile, Emily and I stomped in the sand, swearing in English about what “could have happened”.

Once again, people thought we were crazy. We were motioned to get back on the bus and sit next the sparking dashboard, reluctantly we obliged. It was the death trap, or a long walk through the desert to the city. We passed straw houses, with thatched roofs and imagined what life would be like for those people. All the sudden my adobe room didn’t seem that rustic. Least I have windows and a door.

The rest of the trip was uneventful; we made it back to Pisco, than to Lima and took an overnight bus to Trujillo. I took out my contacts, ate an “empanada” and fell asleep to a lame dubbed movie.