From Cuzco To Lima

The pace has barely stopped. Sometimes travelling can feel like a train ride; a set track in which you see and do exactly what everyone else has seen and done before you. In South America, it's known as The Gringo Trail. While the attractions of the trial are usually worth a visit, I've been searching for that 'wow!' moment a lot lately.

My Gringo Trail all started after my fantastic Lares trek. I spent one extra day in Cuzco to relax, and then finally moved on to Arequipa. There I visited Santa Catalina; an old nunnery like an enclosed village stuck in the middle of one of Peru's most populous cities. Following this I went to Museso Santuarios; the new home of Juanita, the incredibly preserved frozen Inca mummy sacrificed on the nearby mountains hundreds of years ago. She looked good for her age.

The pace continued. Arequipa is the gateway to Colca Canyon; the second deepest canyon in the world after the nearby but less accessible Cotahuasi Canyon. I took a two day trip to witness the lofty views and local settlements.  The highlight though was the deep gorge itself, and the massive condors that glided above, seemingly never needing to flap their wings to elevate their huge weights.

The pace continued. My two day trip was followed by a night bus to Nazca; home of The Nazca Lines. Nazca itself was rather void of interesting sites, and despite it being the base for one of Peru's most famous attractions, I was staggered to barely spot another western face in my first 24 hours. However, the evening lecture at The Maria Reiche Planetarium introduced The Nazca Lines to me wonderfully. The Nazca Lines are ancient shapes, drawings and lines cut into the stony desert at various points between 900 and 200 BC. Despite their epic size, modern day humans only noticed the patterns as an offshoot of the invention of the aeroplane. Since then, various theories have developed about their original use and meaning, but their relation to the stars and sun makes the astrological argument for their meaning very convincing.

Most tourists to Nazca choose to fly over the lines to witness the designs themselves, but I had not heard or read great reports about taking the expensive vomit-inducing air rollercoaster, not to mention the fact that many governments advise against flying over Nazca due to a large history of fatal crashes. And so I opted out of a night of worry in my bed, and I took a land tour of the attraction, including a few elevated view points. As the occasional tiny plane banked and circled above my head, I felt no jealousy or regret.

And the pace continued. By nightfall I had arrived in another new destination. Huacachina knocked me back for a couple of moments, it was like Peru had evaporated and I was suddenly in a holiday resort. A series of modern looking restaurants circled a small lake, and almost every t-shirted or bare chested cool dude youngster I past spoke with a British accent. I'm not sure where they all came from! Unfortunately this was the start of a period of man flu which has stifled my travels somewhat, but I did take a morning trip to The Ballestas Islands. From our swaying boat I saw hoards of birds, penguins and seals ... if only my deteriorating health had let me appreciate it fully.

Huacachina is popular amongst the young tourist crowd for sandboarding and dune buggies, but regrettably I wasn't feeling up to it. Equally it didn't feel like a place to relax, and so the pace continued, this time to Peru's Capital; Lima.

I'd heard many unsavoury stories about Lima, mostly involving robbery. I therefore opted to stay in the nicer Miraflores area rather than the city centre. While it seemed void of any major attractions, I was surprised at exactly how pleasant it was! As I wandered around, my man flu taking an ever a tighter grip, I walked through a small city park; Parque Kennedy. A tiny section in the middle had a number of stumps to sit on, all facing a lone piano ladened with the words 'Play me'. Almost every stump was occupied, and the small crowd listened lovingly to the excellent young Peruvian who had currently opted to sit at the piano. I found a central vacant stump and occupied it. And the pace finally began to slow.

Ten minutes later, to a small applause, the young pianist played his last note. Without hesitation he instantly stood up, and without looking back at his audience, but smiling with pride, he walked away. Within seconds he was just another face in the crowd; another t-shirt clad twenty-something walking through Parque Kennedy. But he was proud And after a week of Nazca Lines, Condor Canyons and bare-chested cool dude tourist sand surfers, I realised something; it was moments like this which I travel for.