Saturday 12 January 2013

Mighty Machu Picchu & Wonderous Huacachina (wo-ka-chee-nah)!!

Firstly let me start off by apologising for the super-cheesy and supremely average post-title.  My only defence is that I’ve been up since 5am having not really slept well from noisy dorm buddies, and I’m a bit bunged up cold-wise, so it’s fair to say I’m not feeling at my creative best!  Anyway, I’ve got another 24 hours of bus ahead of me heading from near the bottom of Peru all the way up the coast through Lima and to the very North to a little surfy beach town called Mancora near the border of Ecuador, and I’ve a lot to update you on, so onwards I plod.

So having made it back to Cuzco in my last post, the following morning I was of the hope that I would be able to wing my way up to Ollyantambo and onwards to Aguaalientes so that I could conquer the tourist must tick of the Mighty Machu Picchu.  A few tourists had told me it was unlikely as the US$100 1.5 hour return train from from Ollyantambo to Aguaalientes was usually booked up in advance, and the train was the only way to get there, hence their ability to charge their exorbitant fee.  It seemed that everyone I spoke to had done or was about to do the trip on a tour, which I looked into but couldn’t go that day, so I crossed my fingers and decided I’d give it a go winging it with nothing booked, nothing planned, and not really much clue what I was doing.  Turns out luck was on my side and I managed to get one of the few seats left on the trains both there the same day as I was hoping, and the following day at 2pm.  So I jumped on bus to Ollyantambo where I needed to get to in order to catch the train, and was mildly concerned when I asked in my broken Spanish how long until we would arrive at our destination thinking I knew the answer but just double-checking, that the answer was ‘no se’, meaning they didn’t know.  Through a girl sitting next to me translating, it turned out that a truck that was too heavy for a bridge that we needed to use had tried to go across and consequently broken the bridge, so we were having to take a detour in order to get there. Excellent!!  Nothing to do but sit there with my fingers crossed and hope I hadn’t just wasted 100 bucks!  Maybe I should have waited the extra day and gone with a tour group?!

But we did manage to get to Ollyantambo in enough time for me to have a about an hour to have a little nose around, and then jump on Inca Rail to Aguaalientes, the launch pad for Machu Picchu.  My next mission was to find a hostel with absolutely no clue where I was or where I was supposed to get to.  Apparently my face conveyed I had no idea what I was doing, as I was standing there looking confused a lovely Brazilian guy asked if he could help me – yes please!  Poor guy traipsed around with me for over half an hour trying to find a hostel that wasn’t going to charge me huge amounts because I was on my own, and eventually we found Inca House, and the best internet I had had in months (bar London).  Sadly he had to catch his train so I couldn’t buy him a beer for his help (doubly sadly because he was super-HOT!). 

Once I was settled my kindly hostel owner showed me where I could buy my ticket for the following day for buses and entrance, and I was lucky enough to get a ticket to hike up Maccu Picchu Manana (mountain) of which there are only 400 issued per day (and higher than Wayna Picchu, for anyone that knows their Picchu’s).  Then after some tasty street food it was back to the hostel for an early night in anticipation of my 5am alarm.  Of course, that was when I realised that I didn’t actually have an alarm, and after failing miserably at asking for a wake-up call in terrible Spanish and charades, I set out to try and find an alarm at 9pm at night.  My second charade attempt worked at a pharmacy – “ahhh, alarme?”… “si, alarme!” (why hadn’t I tried that at the hostel?!), and I am now the proud owner of the loudest ticking, loudest ringing square wind-up alarm clock you’ve ever heard.  Wrapped up in my hoodie and in the middle of my pack you can still hear it ticking – it sounds like a bomb – it’s awful, but it works!

So Bing did his job and the following day I was up bright and sparkling early and full of eager anticipation of the marvels that lay ahead.  I was blessed by a relatively clear day – a lot clearer than it had been in the past week or so apparently – and a 30 minute bus ride later one of the great Wonders of the World lay before my eyes.  My plan was to first climb the mountain before it got too hot, and given there were very mixed opinions as to how long it would take to get to get up and down varying from 1-3 hours.  It look me about half an hour of walking around in circles before actually finding the entrance to the mountain, and off I set up what looked like an exceptionally tall order of a walk.  About 5 minutes in I was lucky enough to meet an English speaking Brazilian girl (sadly not from Rio PandA) and her Peruvian friend, who about half an hour in retreated back down suffering from vertigo, the poor guy!  So it was myself and Fabiana trooping up the increasingly steep terrain, and an hour and 45 minutes later with plenty of “photo” stops, we finally reached the top to be rewarded with the Machu Picchu money shot from above – at least it would have been if it hadn’t been completely cloudy!!  Thankfully, and it was amazing to watch, when you’re up that high the clouds move pretty quickly, and we were able to get some decent shots in-between the moving haze.  All in all I have to say I’m disappointed with all my photos from the day, I found it really difficult to capture and I’m blaming the weather, but nonetheless it was a once in a lifetime  experience, one never to be forgotten. 

Being conscious that I had a 2.30pm train, we paced it back down the mountain without stopping, leaving me with just enough time to get a guide to take me around the ruins and explain their stories and significance, rather than my just taking a pile of photos of various piles of rocks.  And I’m so pleased I did - it was fascinating.  The Inca’s really were supremely clever in their sophistication and ingeniousness in the construction of their settlement, from the way they told the date and time, to their irrigation and water systems, to their intricate stonework in their places of worship.  Testament to this are the fact that the engineering marvels are still so intact having withstood half a dozen centuries worth of earthquakes and extreme weather.  And as if all this wasn’t awesome enough, I am now the rpoud owner of a Machu Picchu stamp in my passport – cool huh?!  Time really was on my side that day, and just as my 2 hour personal tour ended (which they had given to me super-cheaply!) it started to rain and it was time to jump back on the bus, run back to my hostel, grab my pack, hustle to the train station in perfect time to board Inca rail back to Ollayantambo, and reverse the trip I had taken the day before.  My hope was that my luck continue and on returning to Eco-Packers in Cuzco to grab my pack that I would be able to go immediately to the bus station and jump straight on the 19 bus to my next destination – Huacachina – and knock off 8 hours of the journey overnight whilst I was exhausted and would hopefully sleep.  Disappointingly my timing luck had run out having been working like clock-work the past few days, and there weren’t any buses heading my way until the following day, so I bought my ticket and returned to Eco-Packers for the night.

The following day I returned to the bus depot ticket in hand, and boarded a relatively in descript 19 hour bus ride.  At least that had been what I’d hoped, full of optimism about the fact that my bus had wi-fi and a power socket and I was going to get some stuff done.  Unfortunately, of course, the wi-fi didn’t work, but the best part about the trip was that the roads were an absolute rollercoaster and the two girls both directly in front and behind me proceeded to throw up the entire ride complete with all the sound effects!  It wasn’t that I didn’t feel for them, they were obviously having a miserable time, it’s just I didn’t necessarily enjoy witnessing their suffering first-hand the entire duration of the trip, and then some, given the bus broke down for about 2 hours in the middle of the night. 

Somewhat tiredly I disembarked from the bus and taxied the short distance from Ica to Huacachina, to be greeted by a truly amazing and surprising sight.  Not 10 minutes from a fairly major city, and you become surrounded by towering sand dunes that encircle a picturesque lake – a tiny postcard perfect oasis.  So the mission for the day become choosing a sandboard tour agency (they were everywhere), deciding my next destination, booking 2 buses, swimming in the hostel pool, having a beer, reading the Indian Marie Claire that I’ve been lugging around for about the past month and a half finally, and get ready for the main event – sandboarding the dunes!  Disappointingly our guide was not what you’d could the most enthusiastic guide in the world, pushing 60 and somewhat passed the thrill of the dune-buggies which was all a part of the fun.  But he did give us a few shrieks, and waxed the boards up for us to launch ourselves down what seemed very high peaks!  So I have to thank Pete and Andy and admit that it was a hell of a lot of fun.  I was going to skip it but Pete was adamant and told me… well I won’t say exactly what he said to me as it wasn’t polite, but I’m very pleased I went as I had a blast!  Sadly though, there was another casualty on the trip L.  My little orange Sony point and shoot, which for those of you that remember it know that it had an exceptionally hard life, I thought was safely deposited in one of the guys pockets so that he could film me going down from the bottom, and unfortunately it endured one more grain of sand than it could handle and will now no longer open the lens.  I’m going to have a go cleaning it on my next bus leg from Lima where I currently sit in the bus terminal cafeteria, to Mancora – with 19 hours I’ll have plenty of time, but I really think this time it might be it.

So that again brings us up to current for now.  Hopefully the journey will pass relatively quickly, I’ve a full battery and a lot of photos to sort and a lot of Spanish to learn, so I shouldn’t be bored.  And really hopefully I’ll stay at a place with wi-fi that actually works so I can post this, and there’ll be no stories of up-chucks or anything else!!

Until then!
xx



  



See the very top peak?  That's what I climbed!!














  






Fabiana and myself at the top
























Our driver





Let 2013 Commence!!


Happy New Year everyone!!  It’s currently 9th January and I’m on another 15 hour bus ride (that has turned into longer as our bus broke down in the middle of the night) – destination Huacachina to go sandboarding at an oasis in the desert near the coast of Peru.  Again, a lot has happened since my last post, and I’m finding it difficult to keep this blog up to date, but I have a new motivation in that after my travels have ended I am going to turn the blog into a coffee table book as a hard copy memoir of my adventures.

So picking up where I left off, I was with Pete and Andy on a 10 hour bus ride to Uruni on New Year’s Eve and we were mildly concerned at a couple of points when the bus broke down that we were going to spend New Year’s in the MOFN (middle of something nowhere), but luckily, despite apparently leaking water at a significant rate, we did make it to Uruni ready to get our party on!

So our first impressions of the place given that mentality was somewhat surprising.  Ghost Town were the words that passed my lips, complete with dust, rubbish, wind and tumbleweed!!  I don’t think I had an expectation of where we were going per se, but this place certainly wasn’t where I had envisioned ringing in 2013!! 

Regardless, we were there, and we weren’t going anywhere, so we had to make the most of it.  Our next alarming moment was when the first 5 hostels we went to were full.  The good news being that at least somewhere in this ghost town there were some people, but we were a long way from anywhere, so coming up with a Plan B would have been very interesting!  Luckily, we did eventually find somewhere that could take us, and we set off to find out more about our 2 knorwn New Year’s options; FestiSalt, or Extreme Fun Pub!

FestiSalt sounded completely awesome – a full on festival in the middle of the salt flats complete with 2 stages, 2 tents, DJs, hip hop, sponsored by Red Bull, Coke, Hard Rock Café and a bunch of other well recognised global brands, despite being slightly expensive by Bolivian standards but not by festival standards anywhere else in the world, this was naturally my first choice.  Unfortunately, Andy was still feeling pretty bleak from the chicken escapade, and wasn’t up for a massive all-nighter with no way to get home as desired.  So we decided over a beer and then several more at Extreme Fun Pub that it was going to be a decent place to ring in the New Year, and that we’d save some money and still have a great time.  And have a great time we did, we met a bunch of other tourists, drank, did karaoke, at midnight a whole lot of champagne appeared which was consequently sprayed far more than it was drunk, and generally had a good ole fun boozy night. 

The following afternoon (we didn’t resurface until about midday), we stumbled out into the bright sunlight to find food and check in with our tour agency to see that everything was in order for the We following day.  As we were walking back from the agency we overheard a couple of guys talking about FestiSalt, and enquired how it all went down, hoping they weren’t going to say it was too amazing!  Well it turns out the whole thing was an absolute scam!!  When the buses arrived at 10pm full of tourists ready to party there wasn’t a tent or stage or anything else in sight – absolutely nothing was set up!  There was no alcohol to buy, it was cold, and it wasn’t until 1am that eventually they managed to get a bit of music playing and find a few bottles of rum to sell!  Then at 4am when the first of the buses were meant to turn up to take people back there was not an automobile in sight, and it wasn’t until after 4.30am that it bothered to show!  A massive bullet dodged indeed! 

The rest of the day passed fairly quietly, predominantly playing cards and eating pizza, not only because we were somewhat worse for wear, but the following day we were starting our 3 day tour of the Salt Flats and surrounding sites – one of the major highlights of Bolivia and indeed a sight that could hold its’ own in a competition for one of the most unique landscapes the world over.  We knew we were with guys after our own hearts when the 3 local Bolivian boys about 10 minutes in opened a bottle of red wine and enquired with the driver whether it were ok for them to spark up a joint in the car.  We were equally pleased when the answer from the driver was no, as there are a LOT of horror stories both on travel forums and from people we had met of drivers that would either be too drunk to drive and passengers having to take over while the driver slept, or even worse, drivers taking the wheel totally plastered!  So both seemed like good omens.  And on the subject of our driver, I can’t help but immaturely point out that when first Pete, and then myself asked him his name, the response was Wanka!!  Three days on tour with him, and still every time anyone used his name I couldn’t help a wee smile. Then again, after 6 years in London and I never got over Cockfosters, so it’s hardly that surprising!  We were also incredibly fortunate that 2 of the 3 boys (Junior, Muno and Alonso) spoke very good English and was able to translate what the driver was saying, given that the “English speaking guide” that we had paid to come on the trip neither spoke English nor actually got in the jeep and came with us!

After a quick market stop where various salt and llama purchases were made by us all, it was off to the salt flats, props in hand, to take those famously fun forced perspective photos of people coming out of beer bottles, being crushed by their friends, and many, many other cool shots which we had spent quite some time brainstorming.  Sadly, after countless attempts by us all trying to get the focus balanced so that either the foreground or background object wasn’t a complete blur, and speaking to others in different tours who were equally frustrated and despondent, we begrudgingly accepted that for whatever reason those photos were incredibly difficult to take.  Although we did get some shots that weren’t completely terrible, it’s fair to say we didn’t quite get the results we were hoping for.  It turns out (and we only learned this once we had finished the tour, I think Andy is still having a hard time with the disappointment!), that our fancy SLR cameras were the problem, and that good ole Steve Jobs was the ticket – by taking photos with an iPhone the photos come out because it takes an image as it sees it rather than putting an object in focus.  So if anyone does go to Bolivia, please remember this and send us some images so we can Photoshop ourselves in and pretend we didn’t have a massive fail!  Nonetheless, we all had a great day, which then turned into a great night playing cards and drinking games with the red wine a-flowing! 

The following day as you can imagine, we were all feeling amazing at 6am when Wanka woke us to get on the road again.  But the countryside was stunning and it was impossible to feel bad whilst being subjected to such scenes passing before our eyes.  Well, actually, the Bolivian boys mostly slept, but I was very content with my camera and the views.  Midway to our first destination, a beautiful lake filled with flamingos, we had a standard stop to take some photos of the surrounding scenery.  As we went to pile back into the jeep, Wanka turned the key and… nothing!  If when the bus broke down on NY we were in the MOFN, now you could times that 10-fold, we could have been in the centre of the earth.  Pete and his leatherman were very keen to get a-tinkering, and thankfully eventually she ticked over and we were on the “road” once again. 

The lakes we visited were absolutely gorgeous, filled with flamingos, the blue skies and mountains creating perfect reflections in the calm waters.  A photographers paradise… that is until I had the pleasure of sorting through about 200 bird photos!  After a t ty lunch we were off to see some rock formations, again surrounded by stunning scenery for 360 degrees.  And now I get to the part where I need to break some terrible news… whilst scrabbling up some somewhat precarious rocks, Dot suffered an accident L.  It seemed to happen in slow-motion, watching her slowly slide down a slant on the rocks and plunging about 2 metres to the equally rocky ground.  It’s not a fatality, but she is currently in intensive care and very much in need of some super-strong “gotica” – super-glue, which it turns out is not that easy to find in South America.  But I’m very much hoping that I will find some, and Dot will once again be able to enjoy our adventures around the world.  But for now she is resting comfortably awaiting surgery.

On arrival at our evening destination after siestas by everyone but yours truly, it was dinner and more vino time – particularly as not only was it our last night of the tour, but my last night traveling with Pete and Andy.  Sadly Andy had done her dash the previous night and retreated to bed, while myself and the 4 boys pushed on through another night of cards, drinking games, Munro’s terrible jokes, and generally a lot of laughs.

Our final day’s schedule was to see geysers, animal shaped rock formations, a train graveyard (yes, that’s not a typo), and 7 hours driving time to get back to where we started Uruni.  Our first job though, was to try and get the very cold jeep jump started so we could get on the road, a job which being somewhat worse for wear from the previous night’s escapade and at super-high-altitude, was a task we could have all done without.  However after numerous attempts we did get her started and we were off again.  Whilst we did have some fun jumping through one of the artificial steam holes, it’s fair to say that smelly bubbling steam and mud didn’t exactly make the hangover any better, and I was somewhat relieved when we all piled back into the jeep and were off again.
Enroute for lunch, there was a fairly decent ‘bang’, and on pulling over not only had we popped our tyre, but completely shredded it!  It was very bizarre, not like any burst tyre I’d ever seen before.  More rocks, more food, a train graveyard and a lot of kilometres later, and we were back where we had started in Uruni.  After a slightly tense wait at the agency to see whether our “guide” had booked my bus ticket to La Paz or whether I had just given a stranger 230 Bolivianos never to be seen again, she did eventually show and pass over a ticket as promised.  With a few hours to kill, it was back to Minuteman for more pizza, cards and wine and we happily passed our last couple of hours travelling as a trio.  The goodbyes to Pete and Andy were somewhat eased by the fact that we were touch and go to make our respective buses – theirs further south down to the bottom of Bolivia to Tupisa for a horse-riding excursion and then onto Argentina; mine all the way back up North to get back to Peru and back to my original itinerary, with the added slight complication of working out how I make up the 10 days that I spent in Bolivia that I wasn’t supposed to.  With my only solution looking like having to skip Ecuador, and spending US$1200 not being an option to fly, I am facing a LOT of bus time to try and get to the top of Colombia as quickly as possible.  Look at a map and you’ll see I have a huge distance to cover – good times ahead!

Anyway, I boarded my bus to La Paz in the nick of time, with the hope that when I arrived in 12 hours’ time I would be able to directly transfer onto another bus back across the border into Cuzco another 12 hours later so I could get to Machu Picchu.  I’m not going to work it out because I don’t think I want to know the answer, but I’m pretty sure at the end of this trip I would have probably spent as much time on a bus than off of it!!  But without the luxury of a ton of cash as the flights are ridiculous, it’s the only way to see this massive continent.  So being the great bus buddy that I am, the first thing I manage to do to the guy that I had to sit next to for the next ½ day was spill the spaghetti Bolognese I was handed all over him!  And then about 2 hours later had to wake him to get past him to go to the bathroom.  I’m not sure if his departure from the bus about midway was because he was where he needed to be or he was just sick of me, but either way I was extremely stoked when I had 2 seats to spread out a bit more on and try and get some sleep seeing it was the middle of the night.

Eventually we made it to Cuzco, and I was very pleased that my hope of jumping straight onto another bus worked nicely and a coffee and breakfast later and I was back on-board for another 12 hours, and back to Eco-Packers where we had spent Christmas.

So now, as this is getting relatively lengthy again and I’m only about halfway through – never mind the amount of photos I’m going to bore you with - I’m going to sign off and start a new post, as it only seems worthy that the biggest tourist attraction of South America – Machu Picchu, get its own feature. 

Ctrl S, Ctrl N – hasta luega! 
xx




















































































what's that Junior?!

Swinging at the train graveyard