Peru and Beyond- finding my way around South America

Originally I had planned to visit Puno and LagoTitikaka en route to Bolivia later on in the year, however as plans always tend to do, this changed.  Spontaneously one of my friends in Calca called me and said he was at the terminal booking tickets for Puno and would I like to come. I had little time to decide but found myself saying yes. So suddenly I found myself on a night bus in the company three young men, French, Belgian/Italian and a Dane. An interesting, but fun, combination to say the least.

The boys had all never been on a night bus before, so I felt like quite the old hat with my seasoned hours of night busses through renowned dodgy drug jungle areas and all the rest. They began the trip by quoting from the lonely planet travel guide as follows:

‘overnight buses are best avoided has overnight buses have been hijacked, even by criminals posing as fellow passengers, and tourists can be robbed and raped. Military checkpoints can appear anywhere as can road blockades by terrorist groups’ I then proceeded to hear about the landmines and all the dangers Peru has to offer. Thank you lonely planet. The boys quickly decided that if anything happened it would be my fault, as I had suggested we take a night bus and give ourselves an extra day in Puno. After lots of whinging about a non functional TV (apparently they didn’t even want to watch some random Spanish film they always show on these buses, it was just a matter of PRINCIPLE that the promised TV wasn’t working) we finally got to sleep. Funniest image ever was seeing the three boys clutching onto their bags all night just in case the promised hijacking occurred. Seriously these Europeans have no taste for adventure!

We arrived in Puno in the early hours of the morning and I immediately felt the crispness, that particular thin quality the air has, at these high altitudes. A few scattered hours sleep in a hostel and we were ready to tackle breakfast and find a tour for the lake and islands the next day. Our little group of 4 quickly expanded to about 20 volunteers and ex volunteers, who all happened to be in Puno that weekend. Brilliant fun! The afternoon was spent walking through the black market of Puno, apparently according to the boys Puno was the prime location to buy a stolen iPhone. Lovely. We ended up finding everything stolen but the iphones… perhaps they were in a slightly less visible location than the open street markets we were wandering through. Nevertheless we now know where to head if anything was ever stolen. The stall holders shamelessly tried to sell us assortments of backpacks, hikingboots, jackets, mismatched clothing, basically just about everything that could be found in your average backpackers pack. Lunch was another affair with lots of whinging. Frederik having spent most of his life in Italy stupidly ordered a pizza. Now even to those unused to the brilliance of italian pizza, it is safe to say the peruvians really don’t manage. It’s a soggy affair of an imbalance of too much cheese, no sauce, crappy toppings and a doughy base. Poor Frederik could simply not cope.

That evening after a filling meal at a Chifa (Peruvian Chinese) we decided to test Lonely Planet’s recommendation by visiting the “the best watering hole in southern Peru”. It was indeed a lovely pub/bar. It is at these places where it is easy to be transported to a different place. One could be anywhere in the world, most definitely not in Peru. The soundtrack is that of nostalgia, those songs we all know and reminisce what they all meant to us at their times of popularity. It is sometimes hard when yourealize how no one has a shared memory, because no one knew each other back then. Or with some people even just a month ago. At these points you start to long for those people with whom you share a past… a memory… a story friends and family we all grew up with and know so well. Sentimental moments aside, as usual the night is great fun and we return to our hostels slightly apprehensive with our early morning start at the harbour to meet our boat. We quickly realize how impossible sleep is going to be, as our hostel is conveniently located right next to a major disco. Oops. Lots of salsa beats later we finally drift off to sleep, our feet probably all still tapping away to the rhythms flooding our rooms.

Early morning breakfast of the usual Pan y mantaquilla (literally bread and butter) and our cup of mate de coca to push away those lingering twinges of altitude sickness (or other causes of headaches also likely) was not a special affair. We scrambled aboard our boat and off we went, leaving the dirty and rather ugly city of Puno behind, the fresh air and blue skies and water offering a much more attractive alternative. The islands of Uros were our first stop. These islands are perhaps the most famous of lake titikaka, yet somehow I couldn’t quite connect to them. They are made out of layers and layers of reeds, as they rot away from the bottom they are replaced on top. Everything is made of these reeds. Boats, houses, archways, fences etc. Apparently the locals still live here as they have for all time, yet it is somehow hard to believe. It was very touristy and seemed staged. Maybe if we had visited different islands deeper into the community of floating islands we would have experienced something different. It was however still spectacularly beautiful, the yellow reeds contrasting brilliantly with the blue of the sky and reflecting water.

Back on the boat and onward for a few more hours to Isla Amantani, a larger and less touristic island of the lake. The weather is perfect, and it is hard to not simply sit on the deck of our boat with a massive content grin on my face as everything is simply so perfect and just the way it should be. I had forgotten how much I had missed water and the ocean. Although still landlocked, lake titikaka was big enough to bring back many beach time and water memory. I had missed the bright blue clear skies and radiant sunlight that was becoming more and more rare as the rainy season creeps into Cusco and the Andes.

We arrived in Amantani and were greeted by the locals. The captain of our boat divided us all up and sent us off to follow different locals. Sidsel (my jungle buddy from denmark) Laura (housemate in Cusco) and Stella (Volunteer from finland) ended up in a little house overlooking the endless blue of the lake. Lunch was simple but delicious. Our host mother, prepared the freshest trout, potato and rice on the simple wood fire stove that was our kitchen.  A dash of lime juice and some salt, it was impossible to not enjoy. Too tired to do much, we walked around the island a little and then returned to play many a round of cards. There are only so many sights you can take in a day, and it was time for a rest.

Nighttime came slowly and we enjoyed the sunset in clichéd style. Beer and good company. Life was good. As the sun disappeared the cold set in reminding us we really were at around 4000 metres. Lake titikaka brought back many memories of my time in Russia and lake Baikal, another lake of immense volume. I thought about how much things had changed since I was 16 and naively decided to follow my exchange class on a trip to Russia and a lake I never knew existed before. Now, a few years later, here I was, again at a lake, again an opposite side of the world, but this time a entirely a product of my own choices, decisions and actions. It was a nice feeling to have, sitting in silence and staring across the lake and setting sun, thinking just how happy I was to be where I was at exactly that moment in time.

After dinner we were given an assortment of Peruvian traditional dress and shown how to put them on. The next few hours were spent with the other volunteers and all the locals in a hall with live Peruvian music and muchascerveza. We all danced and laughed our time away and had a lot of fun. Highlight of the night was when Jimmi and Pierre ended up wearing the many layers of the quechuan skirts and floral shirts and then proceeded to dance as well. Classic.

Sleep that night was bliss. With only candle night, we hardly had many options for night time activities. An early night was just what was needed. Bundled up warmly in many layers of Alpaca blankets not even the coldest high altitude titikaken wind could get to us. I awoke early that morning and decided to climb up to the top of the island. With no one else keen I began the climb by myself. My heart was beating incredibly fast even after the first few metres up. I hate how the altitude has such an affect. It seriously feels as though every breath isn’t enough. My body takes a long time to adjust, and I think I am still slowly adjusting from when I returned from the jungle a few weeks back. Altitude aside, this walk was by far my favourite moment of the weekend trip. Over my whole time in Peru everything has always been about being around and with people, from working in the kindergarten to my family or spending so much time with other volunteers. This was again intensified when traveling in the jungle with a close group of friends. Walking up this mountain I felt as though I finally had a moment to myself, to think many things over.

Surprisingly I was very content with this solitude, and I sat on the top of the mountain overlooking the lake from every angle as the sun intensified. One direction there were mountain ranges smouldering into the distance. Ancient giants simply resting and waiting. Another angle, by far my favourite, offered a view across the lake to a smudge of Bolivia in the distance. Snow capped mountains lined another edge of the lake. I sat there and simply breathed in the beauty and the tranquility. I thought a lot about my traveling plans and some important choices  I have to make, the main on being whether I should travel alone or not. I came to the conclusion that while I will try to have a base, a contact in every country or place, I will try and make the trips from one to another by myself. So far my plans are slowly shaping up to start by going south again to Bolivia, from there fly up to Colombia to spend Christmas with my dear Colombian chicka Laura, fly to Brazil for some beach and summer fun and after that make my way by bus through to Argentina where I eventually fly out of back home. I like the thought of traveling by myself for some time, meeting who I meet but most importantly just going exactly where I want to go and doing as I feel.

We then all boarded the boat again to visit another nearby island, Isla Taquille. More steps and a steep climb greeted us, and we huffed and puffed all the way up. Blaming the altitude of course!!! Isla Taquille was delightful. Very mediterranean, the deep blue water stretching out in all directions, paved little streets and so many stone archways. We sat up the top and took the obligatory group shots and then had to dash back down for out boat back to Puno, so we could then get the long night bus back to Cusco. The boat trip back was a lovely affair of falling asleep on the decks and waking up delightfully sunburnt….  All in all a wonderful weekend with wonderful people, could not have had a better time!

The weeks are flying past me again, and it feels as though every day could contain an entire post or blog itself. Anyway here is a rough recap of what has happened since leaving the north and settling back into Calca, yet then finding myself moving on 4 days later to Cusco to begin work in the hospital….

The last few days in Calca were a bit of a whirlwind, getting to know a whole new group of volunteers only to find that I had to leave them again. Seriously hate saying goodbye!! My last week in the kindy was lots of fun. We made paper boats and then floated (or sank depending on launching techniques) them down the little river near by. The kids had so much fun, at first rolling  their pants up and very shyly putting their feet in the freeeeeezing water, then after a few minutes all running around naked, swimming, chasing the boats and of course so much splashing. No permission notes no need for bathers from head to toe, such a different experience of an excursion to the procedures we all have back home.  For my last day I invited all the kids down the hill to the Plaza in Calca for an icecream. I told them to all dress up nicely, and the next day they all arrived with combed hair, little shirts and trousers and dresses and all such special things. We walked/basically ran down the hill and shared a messy icecream or two. Needless to say the clean clothes were quite the oposite by the end. The teacher gave me a goodbye present of a beanie and scarf she had knitted for me and off the kids all went after one last sticky, smelly hug. I paid for them to get a lift back up the hill in a mini truck and it really hit me that something was ending as they all waved and yelled gracias as they disappeared up the hill.

Much to my dismay, I was told I had to move to my new placement that friday night, which I was really upset about as I had planned to have the weekend to thank my family together with my housemate and also bring something to more of a close with a place that had so become my home. But no, not possible, so very sulkingly I packed my bags and headed up over the mountains to Cusco city. I shouldnt have worried, because my family here is wonderful, the house has a computer and free internet (hence my ability to catch up on all this)  and I have a great housemate. It just happened to be Ollenka, my little sister´s, 10th birthday, so we celebrated by roasting marshmellows on a little fire and eating Pizza. Oh how peruvian!! I felt right at home, the house was full of family and laughter and just lots of fun!

I finished off the weekend by returning to Calca to bake a cake I had promised for them long ago. Afte spending many an hour trying to find fresh cream for my lemon pie, I resorted to cream in a can (I didnt know that was even possible). They also didnt have a cake tin so I used a frying pan and I also quickly discovered that baking at a high altitude is very different in terms of temperatures and how the cake will turn out. Oops. I thought the cake was vile, but my family loved it and even had it for breakfast the next day. I hope for their sake they really did like it and weren´t just being polite.  I said goodbye to my family, promising to return and visit during the last month that I´m here. Marcio, my host dad gave me a lovely speech, and it felt so good to actually be able to understand most of it. Oh how far things have come! After many a group shot and having my last piece of THE chocolate cake at the Plaza with my dear volleys I took the bus back to Cusco and was ready to start work the next day at the health clinic.

My first week of work was really really fun. I am now working in a public health clinic about 30 minutes walk away. The clinic covers just about everything from emergency to dentistry to gynacology. Serious cases of course go straight to the main hospital, but we still get to see our fair share of fun (?) things. I spent the first week assisting a doctor in Ecografia, basically just doing ultrasounds. I got to prep the patients while the doctor did the paper work. As I got more confident I began to set the machine up, typing in their details and then beginning the ultrasound. Usually they are preganant women coming in for check ups, so I had many a magical moment showing the mother her baby´s heart beat for the first time, its face, its little fingers and so forth…. Of course also a few awkward moments such as when I falsy identified a babys rear end as its head. Oops.

The magic of seeing babies at all different stages of development also brings with it sadness. There are many who simply did not look pleased at all when we told them they were pregnant. I mean who would be at the age of 17. I asked the doctor about abortions in Peru, finding out that they are illigal here like in many catholic countries, but of course with the knowledge that they are performed illigally all over the country. The doctor tells me just how many times he has seen horribly damaged women who would do anything to not bring another child in the world they could not support. The peruvian culture is very twisted in that sense. It is expected that the girls all remain “pure” until married, yet the male culture is quite the opposite. The more women they have slept with the better for their ego and reputation. How can something like that be logical? The end result is that the girls marry young, or if they do get pregnant they are forced to marry the father. This becomes shocking when you hear just how frequent rape is here, and how often the girls are even forced to marry those that raped them, just to keep their reputation of purity. Its not all grim and horrible though. I gave an ultrasound to a beautiful young couple, aged 18 and 19. The father was overjoyed when he looked at his baby, he was almost crying. He hugged and kissed his partners stomach and spoke to the child with such love. It was gorgeous!!! By the end of the week the doctor had much more trust in me and allowed to me do “transvaginal ultrasounds and examinations”. Yes, that is very much what it sounds like. However, with my white coat and feeling very doctor like, I had a completely different relationship with these people, as I suppose they did with me, so it really wasnt as confronting as I thought it was at the beginning. I did have this thought at one point, as I was sticking an interesting shaped instrument covered in a pink, and supposedly strawberry flavoured condom (the patients have to provide their own) up an old quechuan ladies skirts, of how the hell did I end up in a clinic in Peru doing something like this??? A year ago  I would never have pictured it, but here I am. This week (my second) has been much less eventful. I swapped with Laura, the girl I am living and working with, so now I am stuck in Triaje. Basically just weighing, measuring and taking blood pressure of everyone who comes into the clinic before they are sent to different areas. Booooooooring. But I suppose if I am to carry out these ideas of becoming and doctor back home I will have many hours of such work. You have to start at the bottom at some point!

In the afternoons three times a week Laura and I also organised to work in a home for severly mentally and physically disabled children. We spoon feed them dinner and then clean them up ready for bed. It is a very well equipped place, but even then it is very sad. These children do usually have parents somewhere, but often they are from the highlands and simply cannot support them. They look up at you with the most beautiful dark brown black eyes, the only real connection you can have as their twisted and frozen bodies offer none, and it is just so hard to not fall in love with all of them. I picked up one little baby and cuddled him for a while, yet once I tried to put him back he would not let go, clawing onto me, pulling my hair and screaming. They crave physical attention other than what they are given when cared for by the nurses. I carried little Nickolas around for quite some time!

Last weekend was mainly a family affair apart from a Halloween social with the other volunteers in Urubamba in the Sacred Valley.  Saturday Laura and I were too tired to do a whole lot and the thought of halloween really wasnt that enticing. The city was packed with locals and tourists alike, all dressed up and trick or treating. Instead of saying trick or treat though the kids just say HALOWEEN and shove their bag in front of them wanting candy. We decided to be lame and give it a miss, instead watching many an episode of Greys Anatomy in bed. (YES, even in peru!!) Sunday we went for a drive through the country with the whole family and grandma in tow, to a town famous for its pigs. This weekend was a special “Fiesta de Lechon” so we were greated with a Plaza full of stands proudly displaying whole roast pigs. The old peruvian ladies didn´t stop bringing them in, literally by the wheelbarrow. We shopped around for quite some time, Grandma obviously had the perfect piece in mind. We ended up with a good half a pig and plenty of tamales (delicious mixture of maize and either something sweet or savoury), beer and of course to go peruvian style, coca-cola to mix with it. (gross). while listening to live peruvian music we ate and ate and ate. No plates no knives, just literally pigging out. So much fun! We also walked around the town for a little while and visited a nice church, but really all we had in mind was a nice afternoon nap to digest it all. My dear danish friends returned from their travels so that night we all went out. I think most of the afternoon´s binge session of eating was worked off that night with all the dancing that we did, and trust me, its hard work at high altitude!! Monday was a public holiday as it was the day of the dead. True to peruvian style this includes much food, music, laughter and of course beer. Where better to celebrate this than where your loved ones lie. Hence, party at the cemetery. Such a different vibe to the cemeteries I have ever been to. Brilliant!

Off to the south of Peru for the weekend, visiting Puno and Lake Titicaca, the lake which spans across both Peru and Bolivia. Its conveniently Puno week, so muchas fiesta to be had. Looking forward to it very much!

So to round up yet another update which ended up a lot longer than planned, I´m loving my time here, exploring a different area of work and of course a different way of life- life in the big city. Looking forward to many new adventures and experiences and I´ll do my best to keep you all updated.

Love to you all wherever you may be…. xxxxxxxxxxxG

Like with everything in Peru, finding a jungle tour requires a lot of shopping around, bargaining and in the end just a lot of luck, because really it is impossible to work out if you can trust that you will get what they promise and of course what you have paid for. For the past few days in Iquitos we had already been followed around and offered many a jungle tour by the usual street touts working for a commission but we chose to ignore these. The night before we wanted to go on our tour we took the plunge and walked around from one office to another, all essentially offering the same thing. In the end we just went for one or the other and crossed our fingers. Camilla, Sidsel, Chris, our french buddies and I were off to the real hardcore Amazon jungle!

We began our trip early in the morning with an hour drive to a little river port I cant recall the name of. Here we loaded all our supplies for three days onto a little boat and off we went for over 2 hours, back down the Amazon river and then later a smaller river. Here we saw dolphins (apparently they were the special pink  amazon dolphins, but much to my disapointment this wasn´t very evident, meaning I couldnt prove a point which I had been arguing about with Chris for the last two weeks. Grrrrr). After staring out at the river for some time our attention span wavered and soon we were all snoozing as peacefully as you can with the rather loud motor at the back of the boat.

We arrived at a small jungle village and again had to carry all our supplies to an even smaller boat. We soon discovered just how much these boats leaked!!! We wound around smaller and smaller rivers, deeper and deeper in the jungle. The air was even richer than the heavy air of Iquitos, laden with moisture, insects and jungle noises. The river was also a different colour. You could tell it wasn´t disturbed as much. High trees and dense scrub lined the river, entwined with all those perfect cliches of tarzan jungle vines.

We arrived at our lodge, a group of very basic buildings made of mozzie netting and roofs thatched with banana palms. They were high up on stilts because the water rises dramatically in the wet season. It is hard to imagine the river swelling many metres higher than it was now. It seemed as though the river was snoozing, lying dormant, waiting for the turmoil of the rain that would disturb its peace. After lunch we went on another boat trip deeper into the jungle and also went for a walk with Ricardo, our machete weilding guide.

After settling into our little coffins (beds completely incased in mozzie netting that was essentially just white cotton, so you couldn´t see in or more importantly out. Not much fun for those with claustrophobic tendancies) we went for a night walk, where we saw tarantulas, frogs and of course all variaties of insects possible. The biting variety of course all ultimatly ended up on my body, attacking me beyond comprehension, even though I was covered with enough DEET repellant to probably deform me or cause all sorts of health problems for the rest of my life. Jungle at night is fabulous, as our ability to see decreases, every other sense heightens. The sounds and smells especially. With total faith in our guide we trudged through the swampy forest, luckily well equipped with knee high gumboots as we often found ourselves deep in mud.

Sleeping that night was easier than I thought, all claustrophobic thoughts disappearing upon the realisation that the nets were not at all my enemy, instead saving me from even more itching than I was already needing to do from previous insect attacks. We awoke early for a birdwatching boat trip, slowly creeping up the river and just absorbing the collective noise the jungle seems to cultivate. The river was absolutely still and for a change the temperature was almost cool. Mist hung over the river, again adding to the atmosphere of absolute tranquility. On this trip we saw monkeys, countless birds and even a sloth high up in the trees doing what sloths do so well- SLEEPING.

Later that day after breakfast we went Piraña fishing, which was a heap of fun. You can´t really eat them or anything as they are small and boney, but somehow all our hunting instincts kicked in and it felt mighty good ebing on top of the food chain and catching the little fish that are so well known for fleecing anything with meat on their bones in minutes. Back from a successful fishing trip we had lunch and then packed for our camping night out in the jungle.

I always love camping, but doing it in the Amazon jungle was one step more special. We went further into the jungle and arrived at a little site just overlooking the river. We were given  hammocks and a mozzie net and told to find suitable looking trees to tie them to. Surprisingly comfortable, thats how we slept that night. You really couldn´t be any closer to the jungle than we were. That night it was Matt´s (french) birthday. Sidsel and I had bought some candles at a little supermarket, so at dinner time we glued these onto his plate of food and all sang happy birthday. What a brilliant place to celebrate your birthday!

The next morning called for an early start, packing up and then heading back to the lodge, packing up the rest of our gear and slowly heading back up river to civilisation. Tired and rather overwhelmed I suppose, we all slept most of the way back on several boats and finally the car. Occasionally opening our eyes at the shout of ¨dolphin¨from our guide, but quickly fell asleep again.

We arrived back in Iquitos late that night, and the taxi driver handed out all our bags. He told me mine had opened but he had put all my stuff back in. Only later that night did I realise I did not have my camera in my bag. As one could imagine, I was not very pleasant to be around that night. All my photos, and memories of the Iquitos trip were on that stupid camera. I went back to the tour office and with the help of Chris explained that basically I needed to have my camera back and they should sort it out. They promised to contact the driver and search all the taxis, but I was hardly optimistic. I mean its Peru we are talking about! The next morning I moped around in our room and felt very sorry for myself. This soon changed when Chris returned with my camera. SOOOOOOOOOOO happy.

That night we all slept marvelously in our beds… (no trippy swinging hammocks this time!)  I surveyed the damage my legs had sustained (the ongoing joke was that no one needed repellant when they were around me, because the mozzies would only go for me and leave everyone else alone. NOT fair.)

The next day, my last full day with my buddies and in Iquitos we sorted out how we were all going to get to where we needed to go next and  so forth. I needed to be home in Calca sunday night, in time for work on Monday, so I had no option but to fly back home via Lima. Flight booked, a lot less money in my account and all in all I was not happy to be leaving. That night we had a lovely last dinner together at a steak/grill place, craving for some non Peruvian meal. For about 5 dollars we got: A steak each (beef and lamb), lamb kebab, sausage, chicken, potatoes and salad. Needless to say we were well fed that night.  The last night in Iquitos came to a close at some club which had the worst, no exageration, DJ I have ever experienced. Hissignature sound was some high pitched waily screechy noise which drowned out just about everything else. We walked out of that club feeling as though we had just come out of a heavy metal concert. I savoured the walk back to the hostel, enjoying the last humid, balmy hot night before my return to the the freeeeeezing Andes.  Couldn´t really believe it was my last night with my travel buddies and it was rather hard saying goodbye the next morning….

I flew back home via Lima, arriving in Calca late that night. A strange mix of feelings, of being home but away from those I had become close to and that had made Calca home… still trying to figure it out now! Anyway, a trip full of memories, places, experiences and people I will never forget!!!

To pick up right where I left off last time, put yourself in the following situation:

After waiting four long and often frustrating days in the sweltering heat for a boat to leave, (not a drop of rain in sight the whole time), you find yourself standing at the wrong river port, which really is just old planks and a whole lot of mud. The rain is insane, the start of the wet season apparently. It is not hard to believe. You stand at this port with your massive backpacks and everything else hanging off you as well, completely drenched, your raincoats and plastic ponchos offering no protection. Some guys and other mototaxi drivers are hardly helpful, yelling out rather incoherant and impossible to understand spanish. Luckily Chris (more competant in his spanish speaking ) seems to have a slight idea what is happening and you are told to follow this guy. You think he will walk you to the other port, but you arrive at a little speed boat (very primitive speed boat I might add, dont go imagining something fancy). The driver assures you he will take you to your boat, Man de Norte. You scramble aboard and off you go. Very quickly you realise you are NOT going the right direction, instead you are heading straight out to the middle of the main river and heading the opposite way to your boat. Now what to do?

We hardly had a choice to do anything but just go with the flow…pardon the pun there. We were assured that this boat was much better than the other one (most importantly it was going to Iquitos today for sure as it had already left) and that they had cabins available. Of course we hardly trusted this information and we nervously awaited hearing there was no room on the boat after we had just clambered aboard. Luckily this did not happen and we soon found ourselves in the possession of two reasonable cabins. The bunk beds were larger than the others and we even had our own private toilet, shower and sink. LUXURY!!!

Completely soaked through, we spent that afternoon cleaning ourselves up and just laughing non-stop at how we ever managed to get on this boat. Chris called Marino, the captain of the other boat, telling him we had got on another boat. Just to prove to us hw unreliable these guys are, our dear friend Marino kindly informed us that the boat we were now on, Henry III, was not leaving today. “Mañana mañana” he tells us. Pity the boat was already far more upriver than his.

The days on the boat again pass both slowly and quickly at the same time. It is hot and humid, but only when the boat is stationary, otherwise there is always a fresh breeze fighting its way into our cabins. Unfortunatly, much to Camillas dismay, this also allowed the entrance of many a tropical insect. You cant have it all I suppose.

During the day we all lounged around, swaying in our hammocks we installed on the deck, eating breakfast lunch and dinner that is served to us by the ship Chef. Always chicken and always banana. Sweet or savoury, breakfast lunch or dinner. Instead of potatos like we always get in the Andes, it is BANANA. Wierdest thing I had? The saltiest chicked soup imaginable with a massive banana floating around in it. We also had an interesting breakfast of chicken, rice and cabbage, oh and of course banana. Not so good at 7 in the morning. We wrote in our diaries, read a few pages of the many books we had packed with us, chatted with the locals or simply slept. Somehow sleeping during the day made so much more sense for everyone.

The boat slowly moved up the river, stopping at numerous jungle villages, loading and unloading cargo and passengers. We sometimes wandered around these little towns but hardly got to enjoy them, as you never know exactly when the boat is going to leave again. A few rather funny moments of nearly missing the boat followed….

The days moulded into one big day of sleeping, eating and swinging in the hammocks. Night times brought a small amount of relief so there was hardly any point in going to sleep. We played lots of cards, had fun with $5 bottles of vodka (tropical hangovers not so fun) and discussing matters such as the European Union or Viking invasions or whatever else with our French buddies who were also making the trip up. These guys were quite possibly the best hippi cliche you could find… wandering their way around South America with no real plan, both with dreadlocks hanging long down their necks and of course smoked a large amount of weed. I daresay they had an even more chilled out experience than we did swinging on hammocks for 4 days.

As the days went by it became clear we needed to get off the boat soon as we were starting to get on each others nerves. There is only so far you can get away from others on a crowded boat in the middle of the amazon. We must have arrived in Iquitos early in the morning on our 5th(??) day as we woke up to find oursleves anchored in a large and busy harbour…. IQUITOS  and jungle here we come!!!

While it was hardly the easiest or most comfortable trip I have taken, the 9 days it took us to get to Iquitos were certainly memorable and full of many amazing experiences, something which the more conventional two hour flight could not have offered. Hola to the selva…. (jungle) and the many adventures that followed!

I´m finding it really hard to keep up with this blog. There is always something new happening and each day is filled with countless happy, exciting, riveting and sometimes sad and angry moments. I struggle enough to get my thoughts around all that I do see and experience, let alone even write about them in a coherant fashion interesting enough for you all. But I will try. So Iquitos. For those of you not really in the know, Iquitos is the largest city in the world that cannot be accessed by car. It is located in the north of Peru right on the Amazon river. If you keep following the river up you eventually end up in Brazil and the oceans beyond. Everything that is needed in Iquitos must be transported in by boat or by plane, most commonly boats are used. I dont even know exactly how we got the idea to go to Iquitos. The earliest I can recall is all sitting and having breakfast one hungover morning in Cusco, when I think Chris randomly asked if people wanted to go to Iquitos. Sidsil and Camilla (Denmark) would be finishing their placement at the right time, and I would have to organise 2 weeks off between my care and hospital work. After some negotiations with Projects Abroad this was arranged and I got my 2 weeks off.  The whole Iquitos trip is very much of the nature where it is the journey to get there that matters, (I´m, cringing at the cliche here but somehow it fits….) We really didn´t have a huge plan, and still dont, of what we were actually going to do once we arrived there. The first part of the adventure began on Friday the 2^nd of October. We spent the afternoon in Cusco with other volunteers as part of the PA social, including a salsa lesson.  We all had a rushed pizza and then hopped on a night bus to Lima at 8.30 that night. Busses are long, boring ordeals. Combining the impossibly narrow and winding roads of the Andes with my not so good track record of carsickness, it is not difficult to conclude that I hardly slept. I spent many an hour gazing out the window, watching as we wound through the Andes. The moon was bright, I believe it was or close to full moon. The mountains were illuminated, the white of the snow peaks almost glaring.  After tossing and turning all night, probably getting no more than an hour or two of sleep, the sun rose and we found ourselves still in the Andes, driving through countless sleepy little mountain towns. The hours passed slowly. We finally found our way out of the Andes and into the desert. So stark and harsh and very unforgiving. The sun burnt into the white yellow sand, mirroring off it in those mythical mirages so typical of those desert images.  We continued on through the desert and finally reached the coast. It was literally desert, some sanddunes and then a murky blue grey ocean. Really nothing spectacular. I couldn´t help however but let my mind linger on the thought that beyond this ocean most of those I love and care about are back home.

Arrived in Lima in the late afternoon. Lima is horrible. Loud, grey and dirty. So much pollution. There is no one one bus terminal in Lima, so it is impossible to shop around like you can in Cusco. Each company has their own terminal. We tramp through dirty dodgy streets looking for busses heading to Pucallpa, the last port accessible by car from which boats head up to Iquitos. Easily could have been mugged as we were that laden with all our packs and bags, really all we would have needed was a small tap to fall over. Luckily it didn´t, but apart from that we hardly had any luck.

We find out that tomorrow there is a national transport strike. No busses leave tomorrow, which is what we had planned to do, rest in Lima for a night and stretch our legs out (clubbing???) and such. The options? Another bus in 1.5 hours or wait till monday. We opted for the first option, we really needed to get on our way.

A quick dinner for a couple of Soles and then back on a bus. This time we were on the economica bus. No beds, TV or luxury. They even sold us a seat that didnt existed. Luckily we found another seat and we took over the entire back row except for a little peruvian guy who basically stayed curled up in his corner the whole time. We were all rather squished except for long legs Chris who got the aisle seat. He soon learnt to wear a seatbelt to avoid getting flung down the bus at every bump. (The back seats of the bus seem to accentuate every bump we encounter, which unfortunatly due to the roads occurs very frequently!!) This bus trip wen back out of Lima and up in the mountains again, through which we went on tiny curvey roads through the whole night. I could hardly sleep and at one point was rather ill. The night eased into the early morning hours and looking out the window provided much more entertainment. We were now once again going through dry highland plains, but slowly the landscape changed to much lusher jungle. We stopped in plenty little jungle towns, people came on the bus trying to sell all sorts of trpoical delights, or more like sickness in many different forms. Icecreams, bananas, many unknown stuff wrapped away in palm leaves….. the list goes on.

The people were different in these towns to anything I had seen before in Peru. Different features, body types and skin colour. Also incredibly noticable was the clothing. Singlets, short shorts, mini skirts, so much exposed skin so different to conservative lifestyles of the quechuan people of the Andes. Different climate of course contributes to this a lot but it seemed like there was a little more to it than just that. Jungle culture is very different to what we have grown so used to up here in the Andes. The bus trip all up was much more fun, minus the insane amount of bruising our tailbones had all endured, I think mainly because we were just a little bit closer to that goal that Iquitos was becoming.

We finally arrived in Pucallpa again in the late afternoon and were surprised to find it more like a city, harldy the little romantic jungle village I had envisaged. Pucallpa could be classed as the city of mototaxis. They quite literally swarm around the entire city, the roads full of their buzz. The drivers all drive around in a hectic manner trying to secure any lone or lost looking or simply standing still person on the streets. We get into two motos, our gear far two much to squish into one, and ask to get taken to a hostel we had picked out. Of course we got taken to all sorts of other hostels (everyone is connected here in a business sense…. brothers, uncles, nephews… the mototaxi driver will take you to his families hotel, they will take you to their restaurant, find you their friend the jungle guide…. it happens very quickly before you even realise what is happening.) We finally got to the hostel we wanted to, an ok little place with beds and a fan, even a TV and a swimming pool. The pool alas was rather slimy, but better than nothing in the sweltering humidity were were yet to get used to.

The next morning we went to the ports to find a boat. Totally naieve we had thought to get on one that evening, maybe tuesday morning. We soon learnt how impossible this was. Nothing runs to any set time or plan. The boats simply leave when they are full or when the captain decides to go. Manaña Manaña (tomorrow tomorrow) is something we heard for quite a few days. 4 nights to be precise. This was incredibly frustrating, but then at the same time it hardly seemed like a problem at the time. Up here in the jungle there is an interesting relationship to time. It goes incredibly slow in one sense, lounging around all day in front of fans, a hammock positioned near a window in the hope of catching a rare and stray breeze, maybe even just on a chair outside the casa, peeling fruit or having a moment or two of sleep. Yet in another sense the days went really fast. No guilt is felt when you realise a whole day just passed without actually achieving anything at all, except for maybe eating late breakfast/early lunch and eventually dinner. One day passes, another night passes, and yet another day… but somehow it just feels like one big dreamy haze of jungle humidity. It is very difficult to explain this sensation.

We decided to stop this pattern and actually see the area. We went on a boat tour around a lagoon, went to a zoo and saw lots of funky jungle animals… visited a little jungle town of the loca Shipbo people (again a town of such timelessness) named San Fransico, went for a swim with the locals and then went home as the sun was setting in the most cliched way possible. Splashes of red pink orange and yellow reflect off the perfectly still amazonian waters. Lightening and thunder threatens to disturb this tranquility in the distance, but for the moment we are allowed through untouched.

Later that night, together with a little English speaking Peruvian we picked up (named Elmer but somehow the name Elmo always came to mind) Chris and I decided to participate in an ancient shamanic ritual. An interesting and eye opening experience, still hard to get my thoughts around what happened that night and the impact it possibly had on us. A bizarre experience but certainly one worth having.

The days in Pucallpa continued to pass until Thursday morning, when we awoke to realise it was rather late (as per usual) and apparently the boat we had arranged was planning on leaving in 30 minutes. Oops. Looked outside the window and saw that finally the weather had broken, instead of water simply hanging in the air creating that sickly humidity, we had a rather monsoonal downpour. Perfect for walking across town with all our gear to get to our boat. I shall let this chapter come to a close here as it is quite enough for one blog post already. Next up is the adventure of getting on our boat and the 4 days that followed, up the Rio Ucayli and the grande Rio Amazonas.

Hope you are all well, and leave me a comment here if you read this, or have anything to add. I´d love to see who I am actually writing to!

Much Love, G xxxx

We woke up the next morning at a disgusting hour and decided to take the early bus up the mountain to Machu Picchu itself. Walking up was also an option, but seeing as we had walked the day before and were planning a rather serious hike up Waynu Pichu as well, we decided to be slightly lazy and touristy and bus it up. We thought we would get there nice and early to beat the crowds, but alas even at 5.15am there was a massive line. First bus was way out of the question, the 30th bus was much more realistic. At this point I realised that perhaps we were a little naive. Everyone in this town was there to see Machu Picchu, how could it not be completely crowded???

We arrived at the top at about 6am, and again had to wait in a massive line to be allowed through the gates. As we lined up, we were asked if we wanted to climb Waynu Picchu, the rather prominent mountain just behind Machu Picchu that can be seen in just about every postcard or photo. We of course said yes and recieved our tickets for that as well. The number on the tickets? 397. The number of people allowed to climb every day? 400. It really was our lucky day, and I dont even want to think how angry I would have been if we had missed out.

We found a guide, a lovely little peruvian lady who could only speak spanish (thank you Mireia for doing a mighty lot of translating that day) and we set up the steps to actually see Machu Picchu. It was amazing. There is no other way to really explain it. On top of a mountain surrounded by many other jungle clad mountains tipped with clouds, the most majestic buildings, now ruins, have been carved into the mountain. Houses, temples, schools, churches, terraces for agriculture or simply to provide stability, have all been moulded into the mountain, or sometimes the mountain has been changed rather dramatically to fit what was needed. To think that the Incas built this with such primitive tools and no machinary is almost impossible to do.

After many a hundred photo happily snapped away, soooo many group shots at every different angle, we finished our tour and went to climb Waynu Pichu, the rather fierce looking mountain behind Machu Picchu. A rather vertical climb up was well worth the view that met us at the top. Perched atop some boulders which marked the summit, we look out at the mountains and valleys stretched before us… Not to mention the possiblilty of seeing Machu Picchu in all its splendour stretched out across its peak. The ruins, like most inca ruins, have a particular shape. Ollyantytambo for example was built in the shape of a Llama. Machu Picchu is built to the shape of a condor. With a little imagination you can see this majestic bird resting on the mountain.

 We climbed back down, thoroughly exhausted, physically from the climb but also mentally from all that we had seen. We had been to Machu Picchu. It hardly felt real. We spent the afternoon walking down the mountain back to Aguas Caliente where we were getting the tourist train (oh the shame) back to Ollyantytambo. This was a rather gentle stroll down, following both the road and a path occasionally which was mainly steps. Down is always better than up!

Dinner in Aguas Caliente was an average affair, however it was here that I discovered just how much I had been savaged by Mozzies over the weekend. Oh the pain and the itch! The others hardly got attacked, so I like to think I have rather sweet blood. Man it itched, and continued to do so for quite a few days. After a boring train trip we finally arrived back into Calca by taxi to be greeted by flooding rains and NO electricity. Convenient as I had just lost my torch somewhere on Machu Picchu or surroundings. Dirty and wet we went home and fell into our beds. The idea of dealing with everything in the morning was very attractive.

Where to start? Machu Picchu is one of those places you can´t not visit when in Peru, possibly even South America. Photos are plastered everywhere, every angle, every kind of light. You think you know exactly what to expect, what will meet you when you first get a top that mountain, yet the experience could not be further removed from what is imagined. No photo, video or description can really do justice to this beautiful, magical and sacred place. Having said all that, I will do my best to tell of my recent adventures and perhaps you can feel as though you have walked along a few tracks with me!

There are several different options to get to Machu Picchu. Perhaps the most famous is the Inca trail, a hike which can only be done with a guide and is usually booked out a year in advance. Apart from that slight problem, it takes 5 days, something I could not do over a weekend and get back to work in time. The next most popular option is to catch a tourist train into Aguas Caliente, the town of Machu Picchu at the foot of the mountain. This is rediculously expensive, as Peru Rail has an absolute monopoly as there are no roads leading into the town and no cars are allowed anywhere. Apart from that, we felt it was hardly satisfying enough to just go with the crowds, the easy and comfortable way. Somehow we all had the feeling we needed to work to deserve the sights that would meet us at the top.

There is one other way to get to our final destination, and it would take us all day to do this. Armed with lonely planet guides and instructions written out by seasoned volunteer Chris who had already taken the same trip, Sidsil, Marina, Marianne and myself set out early on saturday the 19th of September.

Originally planning to take a 4 and a half hour bus to Santa Maria, this changed when we found out you couldnt buy tickets, therefore meaning we would most likely be standing the whole way, as well as the fact that they couldnt tell us when the next bus would stop by. We decided to take a taxi/car for a little bit more and enjoyed this part of the trip in style. The taxi wound up impossibly steep and narrow roads out of the valley. The landscape changed dramatically as we drove on. Higher and higher we went, driving past snow peaks and glaciers grinding their own mark in the harsh Andean stone. At a certain point we literally reached the clouds, seeing nothing for quite some time. We stopped at the hightest point here, 4316 metres, shivering as we took the obligatory photos. It was intensly cold, the landscape and climate very unforgiving to the few locals we saw, clambering up steep mountain paths and tending to a few pigs tied up outside. We drove on and once again descended into another valley. The contrast could not have been more stark. The climate changed to a balmy, hot and humid jungle. We drove onward through banana plantations and probably many other kinds of plantations hidden in the jungle. The people looked different too. They lived their lives at a different pace and for a different cause than those clasping onto whatever they could salvage, including any warmth they could find, in the Andean highlands. Here in the valley there was no shortage of heat.

We followed the valley to Santa Maria, from there taking another car to Santa Theresa. We again went up out of the valley along the most treacherous little dirt road I have ever been on. It was a little dirt road carved into the side of the mountain. They had only scraped away the bare minimum to allow one car to fit. On one side mountain, on the other side dropping away straight into valley, a river curling around through it, the white waters kindly reminding us of our potential fate. I thought this was sketchy enough until we encountered a bus. I still dont know how we managed to pass this bus, but im still here to write about it so something must have worked. At that point my eyes were firmly clasped closed. (For those of you who know my driveway, imagine the width of that, take away the little edge where people walk up, add a cliff probably a kilometre deep to that side and then imagine 2 cars/busses passing each other) It goes without saying that I was very glad to reach Santa Theresa.

From Santa Theresa we followed a similar road to the ´Hydroelectrica´ a place at the river where an old (apparently defunct) train track carves around the mountain to Aguas Caliente, or Machu Picchu town. On this bus trip I was wooed by a charming (OR NOT) character who introduced himself as Fernando. He began to sing and dance for me and told me he loved me, while making not so pleasant actions to go with his affections. I was not impressed. We told him I had a boyfriend (shhhh….. that little lie always works well) but that seemed to only make him more keen to prove that he was a better catch. He tried to follow us but we finally got rid of him.

We arrived late in the afternoon and began the walk down the old rain tracks. It was amazingly beautiful. Lush jungle, the air was damp bùt still pleasant to breathe. There was hardly a path to walk on, so we spent most of the time stepping on the actual tracks. As fun as this can be for a short time, doing it for two hours is very frustrating, because you have to  always watch where you are stepping. Dizzy and almost hypnotised we finally stumbled into the final destination of Aguas Caliente. Tired and so full of images and impressions, it was hard to believe that all we had seen had only happened in one day.

We found a hostel, some dinner and went to be early so we could manage the early morning start up the mountain to Machu Picchu itself. Tired, itchy and rather sweaty we fell into our beds, the thought of Machu Picchu so close feeling rather surreal.

It is ironic, that just a few days before, I was talking to my mother saying how proud I was I had not yet experienced a single bout of the dreaded travellers disease (read lots of trips to the toilet with food leaving your body any way possible). I spoke about how tough my stomach was, how good all the food here was and how I could not understand what all the fuss was about. Oops. My housemate and I both woke up last Wednesday morning not feeling all that flash. Sick but not too sick, I shrugged it off and went to work. Poor Miriea only made it past 10 am at work, and I struggled to finish the day.

That night was hell. Not to go into too many details, but I swear I have never had to go to the toilet as many times as I did that night. It got to the point where I would force myself to drink 2 teaspoons of water, and one minute later it was already time to go running. Never have I been so nauseous even smelling water. Is it possible to even smell water??? Miriea suffered in a similar fashion. It is not difficult to therefore imagine how we looked and felt the next morning.

We quickly got taken to the local clinic, named Hampini Wasi (in hindsight I can find this name amusing, however at the time I´m not even sure I noticed where we were getting taken). We spent a long long time in the waiting room, doing just that, waiting. Everyone had lunch breaks, morning tea breaks, just breaks or when around sat there filling out important looking stuff. They took our names down eventually and then we waited for the doctor. As we had already diagnosed, after a blood test (??????) the doctor kindly told us we had travellers diarhea, and were told to drink plenty of fluids and take some medication ( antibiotics, ANTIOBIOTICS; ANTIBIOTICS) when in doubt, take some antibiotics is the moto here, even more so than back home.

 We were also given an injection to help the nausea, so that perhaps we could keep something down. The problem with all that was the nurse couldn’t find my vein where one would normally find one, so she decided to go for the outside of my wrist. WHAT THE HELL. Of there is no decent vein on the side of my wrist. After much poking around I basically fainted, and while I was down she grabbed my other hand and god knows how found another vein on the top of it, near my knuckle. A decent amount of fluid went in apparently, or at least that’s what I can assume from the massive bruise I now sport.

After the little feinting episode, they wouldn’t let me go until I drank a litre of electrolytes. Now electrolytes seem like it would be nice tasting, sugary fruity flavoured concoctions, but do not be fooled, they are DISGUSTING. Each sip is a mixture of intense sweet, like fake sweetener stuff, combined with plenty of salt and on top of all that in effort to mask it, the most horrible fake strawberry flavour. Each sip is like taking 10 of the most horrible shots of the cheapest spirits. I´m not joking. It took me over an hour to drink the stuff, and as much as I hate to admit it, it did really help me up on my feet (in the most literal sense). More tests revealed that on top of all this, I also have a pretty bad urinary tract infection. How on earth that happened without me noticing I don’t know, but surprise surprise what was prescribed for that.

Friday I woke up feeling much better, eating and drinking and all such luxuries. I was mighty relieved, as we had already planned to trek to Machu Pichu the next morning. The trip was on. So armed with a backpack full of crackers and even some powdered electrolytes (only in SEVERE emergencies) I was ready for the weekends adventure. As dramatic as it all sounds, it really was all under control. They looked after us really well with projects abroad, concerned for our health and dragging us to the doctors. I survived it all quite well, and even the bruises from the needles are going down. I know there is help available when needed, even in a tiny town in the middle of the Sacred Valley. Let’s just hope I never get into the situation again where I have to drink an entire litre of that vile stuff. Perfect incentive to not get sick again!

Love to you all, and please don’t be worried (especially my dearest Mummy) xxxxxx

Once again a whole group of us volleys ventured up to the higher altitudes and city life of Cusco. This time it was another Aussies bday, so fun times were ahead. Driving into Cusco at night is magical… first we must go through the Sacred Valley, meandering through little villages until we finally get out of the valley, where after the bus drags itself up one last mountain, the views of Cusco city are spread out before us. Apparently the city is built to the shape of a puma, but for now all I can see is endless lights sprawling up the mountain, every flatish ledge or valley filled up. Breath still slightly compromised I am glad we begin to descend into the calley of Cusco, altitude of around 3400 metres.

The first task upon arrival is to find a hostel. A group of about 15 of us wander through the streets of Cusco, narrow, steep cobbled little adventures. We find a hostel right near the plaza, 15 soles each per night, (about $5 aus). Next stop, dinner. We find a little restaurant, we are the only table yet we take up most of the room. The menu? Alpaca steak of course. Together with soup, salad, dessert and drinks again i find myself only 15 soles less. How is this even possible???

Well fed and with a bed to sleep in at the end of the night, or as it turns out, that morning, we are ready to go out. Clubbing in Peru is a very different experience to anythign at Adelaide or elsewhere. For us gringos, there is no question of lining up or even paying. Different people fight for us, trying to drag us into their club. We are showered in free drink vouchers and dont know where to start….

We head to a local club, which plays a nice mix of salsa and other local stuff, as well as the old popular oldie in the mix as well. Lots of dancing, and yes, my salsa is actually progressing (Gabey you’d be proud!!!). After that it is INKATEAM… packed impossibly full with backpackers and the odd peruvian who was allowed inside. It is interesting to go out with such a large group of people, but more so a group of people who dont really know each other, how they usually are, and most importantly there are never any of those usual dramas, breakdowns, etc etc that usually come hand in hand with the consumption of alcohol. We danced the night away and found ourselves walking out of the club, treading lightly as our poor feet had quite the work out, in the early hours of the morning when the sun had already risen. Oops.

Trying to sleep was painful, crappy hotel beds, no pillows, and worst of all, someone starting some construction work on the hostel at 8am. Could they seriously be any meaner?? Cusco during the day is much different. The plaza so crowded with tourists and everyone else trying to cater for the tourists. It makes me realise how much I love quiet little Calca. The morning disappears in a haze, breakfast, fruit salad and fresh juice hardly appreciated by any of us. We decide that horseriding as planned was not an option. We wander the streets, I enquire about malaria tablets for my jungle trip in  3 weeks… we sit on a bench and laugh at tourists… and then decide we are getting nowhere and its time to catch the bus back.

Bus trips are always painful as such, cramped, smelly, bumpy and slow. This trip was no different and I was glad to finally be home. Coming back from Cusco and the horrible bed situation always makes me feel so at home… clean bed, pillow, lots of blankets. Sleep is always brilliant after such nights and I get to appreciate what level of accomodation I do have here.

Sunday began brilliantly. The roster was killed the day before, so I could finally sleep in. Comfortable and warm it was difficult to want to do anything else. The brilliant clear blue andean sky convinced me however, so off I went to enjoy some fresh juice (papaya, banana, piña, mango and orange) with my dear danish girl Sidsil. It was happy hour and we got 2 for the price of one, however we only foudn this out after we ordered two juices, and suddenly two more appeared. Oops. We quickly had to recruit some thirsty friends to help us out. The total cost? About $2 aus.

We decided to go to Ollayantytambo (still cannot say it, yet alone spell it) to experience some more Inca ruins and another town nestled into the valley. A 1.5 hour bus trip and I find myself again in the most picturesque little village, overpowered by mountains at all angles and watched over by the majestic ruins atop. There are ruins on both sides, so we tackle the ones that require no entry fee first. Climbing up was much easier than expected, yet still short of breath we arrived up the top. Oh the views!!! Each angle postcard perfect, I remind myself of my mother as I take a photo of each.

Lunch is a bit rushed, we go to the markets and stock up with an avocado, mango, some bread, bananas and mandarins each. Fresh fruit is amazing here, and it is sooooo easy to forget all they say about how dangerous it all is ( please note mum, all the fruit mentioned above CAN be peeled.. so no, dont panic yet).

We then wandered into the main ruins, usually a ticket if about 30 dollars is required, yet we just walked through the gate. Not complaining we begin to climb up the ancient inca steps. It is amazing to imagine the history of this place, the battles that were both won and lost, and all those who were worshiped up above in the temple de Sol (temple of the sun. huffing up the steps, I imagine the Inca warriors who ran up these stairs with comparable ease…. I imagine even further and marvel at those who actually carved away at the mountain, and even more so at those who apparently transported these rocks from a quarry about 6km down the valley. Such incredible faith and devotion, to their culture and religion, I still cannot really comprehend it.

Tired we take the bus back to Calca, and here I am, sitting in the little internet cafe while the little boy next to me is cranking out Barbie Girl and Candyman (Aqua) at incredible volume. Such a clash of cultures!!!

Of to work again tomorrow, and so another weekend is gone. I am planning on going to Machu Pichu next weekend, and then not soon after going to Iquitos, JUNGLE, AMAZON JUNGLE….. it doesnt feel real at all. Everything is going wonderfully here, meeting such a good group of people, and truly loving every moment of my time here.

Goodnight for now, thinking of you all.

xxx

Today once again my kindy teacher had to spend the day in the city to go to the doctor, and I was left alone to teach the children. Teach is perhaps a slightly ambitious word. Manage is probably much more descriptive. They are smart little kiddies and know very well that they haev the advantage. There is little more I can do then firmly say No No No, or Cientate (SIT DOWN). The only other trick I really have is to keep throwing activities at them, to keep their very short attention span on ME. Today we started off with puzzles again, but it quickly turned into a puzzle fight more than anything else. I sent them all outside for a quick toilet break while I at the speed of lightning sorted out all the puzzles and put them together again before they returned. If there is one skill that I have been improving, it is my ability to do puzzles….. I know most of the puzzles off by heart now and can do them with impressive speed. They kids returned and no puzzles were in sight. I decided today we would make masks as the morning activity. we cut, coloured and pasted, and I again with much speed fashioned the scraps into masks. We spent the next hour skipping around the classroom wearing our masks while dancing to the beat of native pan flute music I had found in a rusty looking little tapè player. The kids also found some old peruvian flags and they marched around with much pride.

 The afternoon activity was to tackle the headlice that abound in the class. White nits are MOST visible in all the black hair. I had bought some little sachets of nit shampoo, and when i pulled them out the kids all got overly excited. Seconds later I noticed most of the shampoo had disappeared. After searching through pockets and backpacks I recovered most of them, apparently they wanted to take them all home to their families as well. They loved to have their hair shampooed, and lined up eagerly, yet when the time came to wash it all off, they suddenly disappeared or simply refused to allow me to wash it out. With stuttering spanish I explained how bad the chemicals were, but still they could not be swayed. I washed a few kids hair but the rest still had it in their hair when they left for the weekened. I’m crossing my fingers that when i see them tomorrow I wont be greeted with a class of bald kids, otherwise the teacher probably wont trust me alone with them again.

As stressful as working all alone was, I enjoyed following my own plans and rhythm to the day, I still marvel at the fact that 2 weeks into all this im already leading my own class… only in Peru…

Off to Cusco again for the weekend to celebrate a fellow aussie’s birthday….  much fun to be had

xxG