Canada to Patagonia at a Worrying Age

Having just been reminded that some people like reading this, I thought a bit of an update was in order following a bit of a gap for a slightly boring time as I acclimatised to being 3400m above sea level.

I’ve spoken to a few people back home tonight, and buggar the altitude sickness, I’ve just cracked open a bottle of Cusqueña beer at midnight GMT (and I’ve just switched on the BBC for fireworks from London!) to remember all of my friend’s family and other people who I know drop in from time to time.

Cusco, all remember Peely at this point, is a fabulous place which I unfortunately have to share with a lot of others – amongst them many, many hippies. Still, there are enough central casting folk around, such as people with pet llamas (and alpaca), some of them babies in slings. The sun’s gone down now, revealing a starlit night and the surrounding mountains glittering away.

Tonight promises to be lively at least, with everyone having to wear something yellow and run around the square for good luck. I’ll be there, but I might not be running at this bloody altitude.

Have a good year everyone.

Song might as well be Disco 2000 for old time’s sake…

Or Up On The Roof – James Taylor, dead corny and all that…

Towards Midnight

So I went out for a quiet meal where it was noticeable that there were four of us old blokes having individual meals on New Year’s Eve. Having had a glass of wine with my spaghetti, I immediately felt drunk and had to go home for a quick lie down. While there I could hear hippies drumming on a rooftop outside my hotel room. Perhaps they were ostentatiously refusing to join in the mayhem that was building up in town and trying to invoke some Inca spirit or something. Personally I think they should have been trying to invoke some rhythm into their lives. The Incas, by the way, thought Cusco to be the navel of the world. The hippies appear to be the fluff.

Out at 10.30 and the square in the centre of town was becoming a health and safety officer’s nightmare. Hand held fireworks were the nature of the day and many frightening objects were being offered for sale. I met a bloke from Hackney, obviously, who is the same age as me, an ex-altar boy and a member of the SWP (hi Paul). We shared a Cusqueña as he told me of his three robberies in three weeks (am I living in a bubble?), before heading to a fabulous view of the square from a pub balcony.

As midnight approached the fireworks got louder and much more numerous, the crowd (perhaps numbering 25,000) collectively deciding that Phil Spector’s Wall of Sound should be the inspiration for the evening. This effort was supplemented by the screams of revellers as what can only be described as ‘bombs’ were lobbed into the throng.

Now, I’ve been to New Year celebrations all over the world. I’ve been agog in Berlin, drunk in Edinburgh, scared in Budapest, emotional in Rome, cold (and naked) in Vilnius, asleep in Kuta (20 years ago tonight) and been subject to a morris dancing exhibition in Chinnor. However, I can honestly say that this was the most impressive event I’ve witnessed anywhere. The bombs, the screams, the setting, the lights, the little girl on a wooden bull signifying the start of the celebrations (with fire juggling hippies in tow), the man wearing a fire-breathing bull’s head, all served to make this The One to be Beaten. Then everyone started running around the square, as promised, as the noise level was turned up to eleven. Cheers were provided on the balcony with Aussies, Paul from Hackney, a few yanks and a Peruvian and once again I had to reflect on the fortuitous nature of this journey. I could have been stuck in Iquitos in other circumstances…

No picture will give an idea of what it was like, but I’ll try to post one anyway. Had an ill-considered Pisco Sour as a nightcap and was at home for two (oh how times have changed) to hear the hippies still drumming on the rooftop. Three hours practice hadn’t improved their rhythm. Still, they’ve got a year to try to make the grade for next time.

New Year’s Day and the huge sign carved into the mountain outside my hotel room reads “Viva el Peru Glorioso”. Indeed.

Doesn´t capture the mayhem, so you´ll have to use your imagination…

PS Thanks Rita for the comment on Still Rhyl – why does this one remain a repository for such things?

Tags: Travel

This entry was posted on Sunday, January 1st, 2006 at 1:30 pm and is filed under Travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.