2,000 KM, But No Paddington

As I think we discussed in an earlier posting, I don't think I could ever be a 'lad'. It's true, I have the required equipment, I love beer, women's bits and I even went to the World Cup last year, but I've never really been one to celebrate the numbskullery of this subculture and my first night in Arequipa was a prime example of that. Arequipa is Peru's second largest city and it was in arriving that I met big burly Dutchman, Tom. Now Tom's a nice guy, but even for a Dutchman his obsession seems a little excessive. It occurred slowly over a 'getting to know you' couple of beers at the local bar, but it soon became apparent that Tom only had one thing on his mind. The conversations started becoming more and more graphic until this Englishman began squirming uncomfortably on his chair. Everything that I would say would soon become turned to smut. For example, I had cooked that day and:

'...I just rubbed my eye and it's stinging from the chilli.'

'For sure, after I'm cutting chilli I (motions with his fingers at knee-height) with a girl! It was so funny, I think so!'

And also:

'I left a pair of pants at the rafting. So annoyed.'

'Ya, all girls here have pink panties. They're not having G-strings either, here, I think so.'

The worst and most frustrating part of this is when you're having a conversation and in the middle of it he just stares away at some girls while I'm in the process of granting him my gold - and you know I have the gold. He has the attention span of a Mayfly with a sexual urgency to match. I don't suppose his life expectancy will be all that far off either when his girlfriend returns on Monday to catch him in the act. I think so.

So that was my first night in Arequipa, but let's not have that taint yours and my opinion. How about some descriptive detail about this newest city of mine, hmm? All Peruvian cities I've been to so far have consisted of narrow roads populated with noisy, polluting cars zipping around with a purpose and focus to rival a crack whore on coupon day and Arequipa is no exception. Mario Kart has nothing on these crazy bastards. If you get a chance to look up from the terrifying speed and noise - it's like an early nineties rave with all those horns and whistles - you'll see some fairly spectacular architecture that let's you know, without doubt, that you're in a South American city. Not least of this is the obligatory town square, which is always an ornate affair with huge imposing constructions built around palm trees and other spiky fauna unique to the continent. Quite a good nightlife here too, I've heard, but before any of that frival, predominately people come to Arequipa as a base from which to take the Colca Canyon trek and other outdoor pursuits which lie a stone's throw from Peru's second city. Not wanting to buck the trend, this was also why I had arrived here and as soon as the laddy fug from the previous night cleared, I made my way to book myself one of these tours and after an early night I set off first thing for the Colca Canyon and the famous condors which lie in wait therein.

I was feeling a little guilty and it had taken me a long time to make the decision, but instead of actually trekking there, I was taking the easy route and a nice comfy bus would be ferrying me to all the destinations of note. Memories of sleepless nights and Falkland survivor feet informed my choice, for the most part, but also time is beginning to become a factor now and the bus route is a good two days shorter than the trek. Plus I broke a nail last time. Taking the bus, however, came with its own pitfalls - obviously. We stopped everywhere. Now, I'm not at the point where the stunning Peruvian landscape is something to be taken for granted, but this guide's insistant stops for every llama turd we passed by, or every old person were pushing me dangerously close to saturation point. To start with everyone was being polite and dutifully snapping away at every stop, even though half the time we didn't even know what we were snapping at. I even think I got mild RSI from all the clicking. RSI from politeness - how English can you get? Eventually, though, as the bus began to slow we would join forces in a weary shaking of the head and, although appearing sometimes upset at the rejection, the guide would signal the driver to carry on and not stop for a clump of alpaca wool caught in a hedge.

After the needlessly long bus journey, we arrived at Chivay, an old city that sits comfortably in the Peruvian mountains close to the condor-infested Colca Canyon. There was a planned trip to some hot springs included in the afternoon, but after hearing about the skin flake McFlurry springs at Agues Calientes outside Machu Picchu, I decided to give those a miss. One story came back about a woman actually letting her baby take a shit in one of those springs - that's a bit much, isn't it? So spending the afternoon reading instead, our small group of four were eventually summoned at 6:30pm for our evening's entertainment. There were several other groups staying in the same hotel as us, so common sense would dictate that we would all be going to see the same show. But this is Peru and common sense left town a long time ago. We got in our bus and went (literally) about 15 metres down the road to a restaurant where we were the only diners there. Music and dancing is generally one of those things you can let blend into the background in a restaurant setting, but when you're the only wallets in sight, there's no escaping it. There were some interesting techniques, including a young girl getting savagely beaten by a knotted rope - actually really hard - but for the most part the entertainment, in front of four guys who met 12 hours ago, served to merely exercise buttock clenching muscles. And I can tell you, you could bounce coins off my bum-bum now. Ah well, tomorrow was the day we were here for anyway and I drifted off, tight-buttocked and dreaming of the majestic condor.

So another early morning (5am) was necessary to catch the awesome birds in full flight through the incredible canyon and after a quick breakfast we set off for the main purpose of the trip. When we got there the scenery was amazing. The sun was shining and around 100 people were sitting - their feet dangling of a cliff's edge and their fingers poised, just waiting for a glimpse of the birds. I found myself a spot and started to do the same. Wait. And wait. And wait. Guess who's too good for the canyon today? Yep, after two day's journey, an unprecedated amount of outstretched palms and bugger all sleep the condors didn't come out to play. What made this even more frustrating was a grinning Swedish twat who laughed about how he's been there eight times and this was the only time there had been a no-show. That's helpful, isn't it? You may have been wondering about the picture for this posting and I can tell you I've vetoed any pics from this tour cos it was such a letdown and have instead put up a photo I took of a dog with an erection. Quite apt, I thought, as both the dog and the tour have potential, but ultimately they were pointless.

Never mind. Forgetting the condor calamity (I'll never forget it) going back to Arequipa was cultural, entertaining and a fitting end to my time in Peru. I went to see Juanita, the frozen child sacrifice of the Incas found in a local volcano, at the local museum and then spent the Friday evening jigging till the early hours with thoughts of condors nothing but a distant memory - I'll never forget it. So after sod all sleep and a six hour bus journey, I'm about to cross the border into Bolivia and now, I feel, would be an appropriate time for some thoughts on my second South American country. Unlike Brazil, every kilometre in Peru creaks with age and tradition unique to the continent. At every stage you are under no illusion as to where you are - from the bright and ancient clothing to the perpetual music piped into every place, tradition is not something easily forgotten here. Just like Juanita, time has been frozen for many Peruvians and if it wasn't for the cacophony of engine noises from the busy streets, you could easily believe you were in a different era altogether. Certainly smells like a different era sometimes. Myterious, beautiful, charming and challenging all at once - but enough about me! Meep-meep! Last one of those, I promise. But the above really does describe Peru. That and a distinct lack of bastard condors. I'll never forget it. And now to Bolivia...

No true comments from the last post. I can only assume this is because I put this one up so quickly afterwards. Yes, that's what I'll assume. Just simply a quick hello to Matt and Lee - hope being back isn't too depressing. See you in Bolivia.