The Muddy-Pants Diaries

7 November 2005 (Monday) – Isla del Sol to Copacabana to La Paz, Bolivia

Indeed Henry was not killed by hailstones last night and I got my torch back, hehee…

Today, the boat company from yesterday did not send a boat out today. So, Henry could not use the same return boat ticket and had to buy another. Gosh, I hope he has better luck with the bus ticket later in Copacabana.

Back in Copacabana, as Henry charmed his way through with the tour agency lady he bought the ticket from (he had to pay 5 bolivianos more to bribe her), I wandered to another agency and bought one of the 3 remaining tickets to La Paz at 1:30pm. Lloyd was also heading that way and since it was just 12pm now, he wandered off with his digital camera precariously hanging around his neck to look for food.

As I packed my stuff in the hostel, I noticed there was no seat number on my bus ticket. My hostel guy smilingly told me best to get there early by 1pm, as it was possible that people would end up standing on the bus. Later, although we had all bought our bus tickets from different agencies, we realised the tourists were all bundled into the same bus. This was so strange here in Bolivia, as I had always taken buses with local people.

Anyway, Henry and I were amongst the first to have our backpacks thrown up on top of the bus and we found seats easily. We then got worried about Lloyd. I made a guess as to which restaurant he might be and ran there to check. His trout had just freshly arrived and he had not even begun to saw it open yet and he was calmly chatting with more new friends. I quietly told him to hurry as luggages and backpacks were being packed now onto the bus and everyone was climbing onboard to grab their seats.

We waited another 20 minutes and the bus appeared quite full by now. Henry ran off to look for him. Lloyd who only spoke English and no Spanish, and Henry who spoke perhaps 10 words of English were perhaps not meant to communicate hurried news to each other. Lloyd looked at him and hugged him, bidding him fond farewells. But Henry was trying to tell him to hurry and get his luggage and himself on the bus. Lloyd hugged on tighter, before realising what was going on.

The guys from the bus company appeared to be watching out for Lloyd as well, as he was just such a sweet little old man. They had his luggage ready to be tossed into the back of the bus when he walked out, looking all confused. He made it just in time.

The beautiful ride was passed more of the blue Lake Titicaca and licho grasslands. We had to get off and take a little ferry across the straits. By then, Henry and I had made friends with Emmy, a French girl, who was travelling with her family – father, mother and brother, and Diego, a middle-aged guy from Argentina.

La Paz sits at the bottom of a basin and when we arrived, it was indeed quite a sight to take in.  The bus stopped for us to ooh and aah.  Gosh, how packed this city is!

When we all arrived in La Paz, the bus stopped us in front of Hotel Copacabana which coincidentally was the hotel booked by Emmy’s family. Lloyd and I had previously agreed to go to the much cheaper Hostal El Solario. Henry and Diego decided to join us. A taxi driver tried to charge us 12 bolivianos for the ride. But it was just 3 blocks away. What a rip-off! Thank goodness we did not fall for that.

I was worried about Lloyd walking around at this altitude with his luggage but he was game. When we reached El Solario, we were queued behind 3 guys – 2 French boys, Matthieu and Julien and 1 American Dan. It turned out, all 7 of us were turned away as the hostel was already full.

Diego, Henry and I checked out another hostel 5 doors away. This one could accommodate all of us, and they, being the true-blooded South Americans that they are, managed to bargain down the price from 35 to 30 bolivianos for each of us. But we had to share the rooms.  Well, no problem.

After some freshening up, Henry and I wanted to head back to Emmy’s hotel as we had made an appointment with her to hang out together. But gosh, Lloyd, Diego and the 3 guys followed us as well. At Hotel Copacabana, Emmy’s family of 4 were there waiting for us. Ahem… and then, there were eleven.

ELEVEN!!!!! I had never ever moved around in a group of eleven before!! Gosh, Henry and I looked at each other in disbelief as the group thronged through the Mercado de Hechiceria (Witches’ Market), admiring the llamas‘ foetuses, strange herbs, charms and other little statuettes.

We were all hungry but wandering down a few streets, we found no restaurants at all. Some of them actually stopped the Tourist Police to ask them for a place we could all go eat and then, much like the blind leading the blind, somehow, I don’t know how, we found a mid-range restaurant and the waiters did a quick job to pull some tables together. The waiter was smart, he left a piece of paper with us. From where I saw it, I believe he wanted us to gather our orders on the piece of paper, making his job easier. But unfortunately, he communicated it to Emmy’s father who did not speak Spanish, and HE told us to write our names and countries of origin on the paper. I was seriously in doubt. But everyone was busy chatting with everyone else and absent-mindedly signed on the paper. What was this for???

When he returned the paper to the waiter, the waiter was grossly confused as he could not detect anything that looked like ‘Pollo a la Plancha’ (that is ‘Chicken to the Iron’ for those who do not read Spanish) or whatever on the paper. I was ready to die from shame!!! Diego, the Argentine, then became the Indian chief to gather our orders. Thank goodness!!

When dinner was over, as we walked along the street, everyone was asking everyone else where we were going. How in the world should I know??? I would do what I want. You do what you want! Henry, Emmy and I bid rapid farewells (sorry, we do not mean to hurt anyone) and snuck off hastily. Later, Emmy’s strange brother came hurrying and joined us.

Emmy’s brother is called Jean. He had sat in front of me at the table just now. He did not look at anyone, nor talked to anyone. In fact, he was talking to himself and laughing many times at nothing. He stuck his legs across the table underneath and kicked me many times. He kept smoking and seemed to have some nervous ticks. Then, just as suddenly, he whacked me on my shoulder and demanded for my name, which I had already told him.

During the walk around night-time La Paz along Av. Mariscal Sucre, Jean would suddenly whack me again, and ask for my name. Gosh, this happened at least 4 times. He would repeatedly chant, “Wherearewegoingwherearewegoing wherearewegoing??” He would also stop somewhere and gesture wildly, seemingly talking to someone in the air. Lloyd had told me this guy was probably a maniac depressive, on pills. But travelling in another country and meeting people were probably doing him a world of good. So, I tried to be nice, but I was frankly a little uncomfortable as he had grabbed me once a little earlier. I tried to see his aura. It was black, poor thing.

6 November 2005 (Sunday) – Copacabana to Isla del Sol, Bolivia

Lake Titicaca, the highest commercially navigable lake in the world, is shared between Peru and Bolivia. I had previously visited the Uros Floating Islands, made of reed, and Isla Taquile 6 years ago, on the Peruvian side. This time, I want to stay overnight at Isla del Sol.

However, it seemed that today was a terribly cloudly day. The water of Lake Titicaca is always a brilliant blue when the sun is out. At this moment, when we embarked on the boat, it was unfortunately not. I originally sat on the deck upstairs. I made friends with the other tourists up there braving the cold wind… there were Marina from Argentina, Jerome from Belgium, Henry from Peru, middle-aged couple Elisabeth and Colin from England. We chatted briefly but soon, nearly half of us, including me, had to crawl back downstairs to the sheltered cabin.

Marina and Henry were actually both on the ‘half-day’ trip. That means, they take the 8:30am boat to Isla del Sol and return to Copacabana by 12:30pm today. But this is ridiculous. It takes 1.5 hours to get to the island. So, when the boat pulled up at 10:10am, the boat driver told those on the ‘half-day’ to be back at the port by 11:10am. Otherwise, if they prefer to be on the ‘full-day’, they can take the 4:00pm boat. Both Marina and Henry had bought the bus ticket to La Paz leaving at 1:30pm. But what can they do in 1 hour here on the island??!

The 3 of us huffed and puffed for about 15 to 20 minutes all the way up the steps to the top of the island. The two of  them stopped for something to eat at a restaurant while I puffed on further to look for a hostel. By chance, Elisabeth and Colin were staying at the same place. My room was not ready yet, still occupied, but the owner seemed very sweet so I would trust that my room was alright and I would stay here. Jerome and his wife Katya were still looking when I joined Marina and Henry at the restaurant.

Both of them were having serious regrets of having bought their bus tickets to La Paz. Well, it was indeed BEAUTIFUL here on the island. The sun had somehow made an escape from the clouds by now, and the lake was a gorgeous blue. There were many terraced steps all around the island, this method of agriculture had come from ancient times… possibly all the way back to Tiahuanacu period. This magical island was also in the Inca’s legend, where it was claimed that the sun god Manco Capac was born here. And gosh, to stay out here overnight… I can only imagine the stars I can see tonight, at this altitude and so far away from everywhere.

Marina had her egg sandwich and her mate de coca and it was already 11am. She had to go. Henry too… but Henry was seriously thinking of staying overnight. He hurried down to the port with Marina to see if he could change his bus ticket to the next day.

Meanwhile, Elisabeth and Colin joined me at this great al fresco lake-facing restaurant for something to drink and a chat. We decided to do the hike together. Jerome and Katya might stay another night, so they preferred to just relax and hang out today. Henry soon came huffing back. He said he would try and get a phone here to call the bus company. Interesting… when we came climbing up, at the top of the steps, we had seen an indigenous traditionally-attired local lady with the usual bundle on her back standing at the edge and then, we heard a ringing sound and she whipped out her cellular phone and answered it. Perhaps, Henry should try and track her down.

The 3 of us were starting our walk around the island soon. Henry said he would try and catch up. We were now at the south end of the island. There is a trail that leads to the north all the way to a pre-Inca ruin. My hostel owner said it would take 3 hours to get there. Well, I was not sure if he meant at MY pace, but Elisabeth, Colin and I decided we would just walk around the island, it did not matter if we reach the ruins but we had to make sure we return in time before dark.

We took a wrong turn at one point and ended up at the top of one of the hills of the island. Gosh, it was absolutely amazing here as it was right at the ridge and we could see both sides of the blue lake. There was no trail, so we just walked down the slope gingerly to the terraced farmlands. Colin soon spotted the trail but it was way way down. We jumped down the steep terraces and blundered through people’s recently-planted cultivation before finally clambering down to the trail. Hee… sorry.

After paying an entrance ticket of 10 bolivianos (!!… for the community, they claimed), we walked on and finally found some shade where we sat and ate our lunch. Then, we saw Henry. It had taken us about 1 hour to get to where we were, as we had walked really slowly, enjoyed the scenery and then, destroyed people’s crops. But Henry had run here in 15 minutes! He was unable to call the bus company. He would just have to pray they let him get on the bus tomorrow without having to pay for another ticket. He then said he would run all the way to the ruins, as he preferred to come back in a slow and tranquil manner. Before we could reply, Flash Gordon had zipped out of our sight.

Some tourists had taken the boat to the north end of the island and from there, they walk back to the south to catch the return boat at 4pm. Within another half an hour, we finally started seeing tourists coming back in the opposite direction. I chatted with some French tourists at a coffee-and-tea stop and they told me it was another hour to the ruins.

Now, I was determined to reach the ruins. I soon left Elisabeth and Colin behind as they had stopped at a place to eat their bananas and I, yes… I ran down some parts of the trail – the parts with no huge rocks to trip me over and with a vicious wind to push me onwards and at 3812m!! Many parts of the trail were along the ridge where you could see both sides of the lake, and where the cold wind was blowing right across. Brrr… Some parts of the trail had massive bedrock of pink, white, yellow. It was absolutely absolutely stunning!

I reached the ruins in 45 minutes and found hardly anyone there. The ruins was alright, with a sacrificial table, no less… but the atmosphere there was just magic. This must be a place that gives people energy. And a fellow tourist sitting there was very kind to point out to me the corner where the sun god was born, according to the Inca’s legend.

I found Henry sitting in a niche, meditating in the glorious sun. Wow, the water down below was glistening. There was hardly anyone here… Perfect! Thank goodness I did the trip this way, opposite from the huge number of tourists who went from north to south. I did not have to share this magical place with too many people. However, we waited for Elisabeth and Colin and they did not come.

After some moments of contemplation, we departed serenely at 3:30pm. I told Henry to allow 2 hours at MY pace, please, to make it back to the southern part of the island. Unlike him, I do not have Inca’s blood running through my veins.

Henry is a film-maker who had recently resigned from his job to travel to Argentina to meet his friends and to try and showcase his recently completed documentary about a stadium in Lima being built on sacred Inca’s ground. Yes, the football team had had the worst luck since then. So, they tried to request the help of some pure-blooded Inca’s descendents found in the highlands of Cuzco to try and exorcise the spirits. How interesting!!

My Lima hosts, Percy and his family, had had not much interests in Peruvian history and cultures but Henry is just an encyclopedia of information about pre-Inca and Inca cultures, symbolisms, architecture, ruins, energy, etc… We talked all the way back to the south of the island, exchanging tonnes of information about Asia and Peru.

We found a west-facing restaurant where it appeared to be a good spot for sunset. We joined several tourists there, half-wondering if there would even be a sunset in view of the thick clouds hanging low at the horizon. An elderly man loudly called out to me, “Hello, my little Japanese friend!”. I smiled and sheepishly corrected him, “Hello but I am not Japanese.” “Oh, then, my little Chinese friend!” To that, I acknowledged. He is Lloyd, from Canada. He is nearly 70 years old and is travelling alone. Unfortunately, he was recently pickpocketed in Puno so he lost all his money and credit card. He had made arrangements to get a replacement credit card in La Paz in a couple of days’ time. Apparently, he had been to South East Asia many times, having been a teacher in Borneo, teaching the headhunters English! Goodness gracious! He knows Singapore very well and had even written 2 essays about the politics of Singapore. He definitely knows more about Singapore than I.

Sunset was just a modest peep of orange through the thick clouds and soon, we returned back to pile on more clothes. Later, a whole bunch of us gathered at the same restaurant for a very expensive dinner. Sigh… what can we do? Isla del Sol had been transformed as yet another tourist money-spinner. I am sure 6 years ago when I visited Lake Titicaca then, to spend a night on the islands here, meant sleeping on mattresses on the floor of the residents’ mud houses, with no electricity, no hot water. But now, what do we have? Hostels with rooms with great view, hot water, lights, pretty little, yes, and, once again, rustic restaurants…

Henry and I were famished, having had nothing to eat since noon, and we were both appalled by the prices of things (20 bolivianos for the trout) as we were both very unlike the usual gringo tourists where everything was cheap cheap cheap to them. But we reasoned that the other restaurant which had the same price but included a soup was a 10-minute uphill hike in the dark, and the difference with the damn soup was really just less than US$1. We were not going to get too great a bargain anywhere anyway. Finally, for the company of Lloyd and the others, we stayed.

The restaurant must had been overwhelmed by the large number of us. We waited for 1.5 hours without smelling anything flagrant. We were ready to double over and die. I popped my head into the kitchen with an inquiring smile. They all looked very busy but there was just a small pot of fire on the floor. Gosh, there were at least 12 of us in here. How could they manage? But the jolly little owner insisted everything would be ready soon. He called it ‘ahorita’ (right now). I am a lot wiser to South Americans’ claims of ‘ahorita’ by now. After another 30 minutes, finally, gorgeously fried trouts, with fries and salad were served in front of us. Now I wonder how they did it.

Thank goodness I had brought along my little torch to guide me home. It was impossibly pitch dark now. And yes, I could only IMAGINE the stars as the sky up above was heavily laden with thick thunderous clouds. Henry was staying at another hostel. After seeing me home, he borrowed my torch to walk back… just as small hailstones started to fall all over. I hoped he made it back alive. I heard that some hailstones can kill.

[photo credits HR: Henry Rodriguez]

5 November 2005 (Saturday) – Puno, Peru to Copacabana, Bolivia

I had stayed at the terminal so as to make it easier to catch the early morning bus. It turned out, the bus made its rounds around the centre to the hotels to pick up all the tourists. Hmm… indeed, the bus was entirely filled with tourists. I guess, Bolivian and Peruvian people go by local packed micros that are much cheaper.

We were distributed Bolivian entry forms. There was a section asking if we are terrorists, have committed acts of genocide, have trafficked or have the intention to traffick drugs, have committed acts of fraud or have the intention to do so, have ever been in jail for more than 5 years, have ever been charged in the judicial court, blahblahblah… It was almost brainless ticking ‘No’, ‘No’, ‘No’… til I came to the point asking if I had ever had my visa rejected by Bolivia.

Whooops. I had. But it was ridiculous to tick ‘Sí’ now!! If I tick ‘Sí’, it is as bad as stating that I have committed any one of the above heinous acts of crimes or have the intention to. Sheeesh… What am I to do? Well, I lied. I ticked ‘No’.

When we reached the Bolivian customs, the guy made some disapproving noises about my visa being dated 16 August 2005, which was more than 30 days ago. Wait a minute… when I obtained the visa from the Bolivian Embassy in Caracas back in August, I had specifically asked if I needed to enter Bolivia within a certain period, usually 3 months, but the lady at the embassy had informed me that, “No, the 30 days of entry start the day I enter.” So, I patiently explained to the authorities here what I had been told. I actually had the business card of the very nice lady at the Bolivian Embassy in Caracas but for the life of me, I had no idea where I had left it. The customs guys hawed and hemmed, each one not willing to take the responsibility. Oh no… I could not believe that I had come this far to have them turn me back to Peru!! The guy stamped on my entry form, but the stamp lingered above my passport as he made one last inquiring nod to another guy lazing in the corner. Finally, the lazing guy made a small flickering gesture and ‘Thump’, ah… yes, the sweet sweet sound of the stamp on my passport!! I am in!

Copacabana is not to be confused with Copacabana beach in Rio de Janeiro which incidentally, is named after this tiny town… and there is a nightclub in Rio that is named after the district… and there is a song by Barry Manilow that is named after the nightclub… and there is a musical that is named after the song. Yes, all sprung from here in Lago Titicaca, imagine! Anyway, check your bus ticket properly before making your way there for Carnaval. You need warm woolly clothes here at 3,800m. The see-through sequined tights and feathers would do you no good here.

A tout hustled me to the best hotel with the best private toilet I had ever been… all for only 15 bolivanos (about US$2). Great deal! Well, no wonder it is a great deal, I could see the huge level of competition for tourists’ money here. I had never been here before… obviously… but I am sure over the past years, Copacabana had totally been transformed to Gringo land (with capital ‘G’, if I may add), with pizza restaurants, American breakfast cafes, and other restaurants prettily decorated in rustic style and with wooden seats and tables (which seemed to be the ‘traditional’ or ‘authentic’ style the locals think the gringo tourists fancy and hence, frequently used to attract the rolling bucks). Personally, I prefer normal plastic tables and chairs, where the owners are so busy churning out the g-o-o-d food that they never bother about decorations.

The church is an interesting piece of architecture, with Moorish-style tiled-roofs. Vehicles were lined up in front to be blessed by the church. It was gorgeous, but frankly, the area around the main streets and plazas was too touristy for my taste.

I determinedly wandered off the main streets and plazas and found a market. Everywhere in the restaurants and the market, trout was sold. So, it must be a speciality here, direct from Lago Titicaca. I bought mine from the market, yum yum yum.

The other very obvious national snack item is pasankullas, which are HUGE popcorns… some varieties were simply gigantic! Women were selling them by the carts! Get a ‘small’ (ahem! as small as you can find anyway) bag and munch away for the next few d-a-y-s.

At the money exchange today, I was given four 100 boliviano notes. That evening, I decided to try and break one of them. I could not believe that I walked from restaurant to restaurant, up to 4 of them, asking if they had change for 100 bolivianos if I took the set dinner (which was 6 to 7 bolivianos)… and each of them rather turned my business away. Finally, I gave up. I agreed to one lady to order a la carte, chalking up to say, 15 bolivianos, and she finally agreed to accept me as a customer. Some service here! 

4 November 2005 (Friday) – Arequipa to Puno, Peru

Today, when I packed my bags thoroughly, I realised something else was also stolen. I had a little bag of leftover change, mostly coins, from the countries I had been to. It was gone as well. Sigh… my coin collection… I felt a little sad about all this but anyway, it was time to leave Peru.

Fernando sent me to the bus terminal and I really thanked him for supporting me during my stay here and for taking care of me.

The route to Puno was through excellent highways, zipping through the highlands in merely 5 hours. I was surprised at how Peru had developed. It used to take 9 hours, if we were lucky, but up to 13 hours on a bad day.

I had hoped to be able to catch a bus straight to Copacabana, Bolivia rightaway, but there was no bus until 7am tomorrow. Oh no, I am not sure if I have enough soles to last me through one more night here in Peru. Puno had also changed quite a bit. There is now a Terminal Terrestre where all the buses are located together. And… there is a hospedaje (hotel) on the second floor of the terminal.

I decided to stay at the hospedaje here, as I figured the taxi ride to town and back early tomorrow morning plus a hostel in town would probably work out more than staying here. Also, there are cheap restaurants here. I had never stayed in a hostel at a bus or airport terminal before. They seem to be for desperate people. I wonder how it is like. I guess… pretty noisy!

I had lunch… Jumped Loin, if you want to know… and was captivated by a TV programme being played. This was a Bolivian wrestling programme of altiplano (highlands) women! Yep, no kidding! These indigenous women with the long plaits, flouncy skirts and layers of lacy petticoats, woolly stockings and all, were executing World Wrestling Federation moves! They jumped on each other from the corner stand, they ran towards each other with their arms outstretched to knock at each other’s neck, they pounced on top of the opponent with their elbows… pulling at each other’s plaits and hurling abusive words in Aymara. I was stunned beyond words. These women look exactly like those I kept seeing around in the countrysides, docilely working the lands, carrying their babies on their backs. Now, they had bloody noses, dishevelled hair and ripped sweaters. Er… I am so looking forward to going to Bolivia, haha.

A short walk around Puno brought me to a Puno Exposition, which is a huge area filled with tents, where kiosks all around were selling products from this region and beyond. It was interesting to see the crafts, the coffee, quinua (a type of cereal), fruit juices, and other exotic snacks on display. Puno is truly a very indigenous town as most people here are wearing the traditional dresses and the tiny bowler hats that do not quite fit.

When I was about to take a shower, I discovered due to the altitude change from Arequipa to Puno, there was a huge mess in my toiletries bag. Half the content of my hair cream had burst out, but with the lid still on. How did that happen? 6 years ago, I had the same problem. So, do not try and open anything if you are not ready to catch the content – like flying shampoo and moisturizing cream.

Gosh, it was indeed noisy here in the hospedaje, as there were people downstairs constantly screaming “Arequi Arequi Arequi ArequiPA… Cusco CusCOO…”. Why do people need to shout the destinations? Well, most locals here cannot read, so they have to listen to these shouts in order to know where to buy their tickets. The noise was also complemented by the musical undecipherable announcements of departing buses.

I could not sleep, so I joined the waiting passengers downstairs watching trashy entertainment programmes for a while. In a way, it was fun to observe the locals. These women with their large dresses and tiny hats, were carrying serious loads on their backs, wrapped by the colourfully-weaved shawls. Be careful not to stand too close to them, lest they turn around suddenly and you end up with a bruise on your face, having been smacked by a bundled baby. I would need earplugs tonight to sleep, but I was afraid I would not hear my own alarm clock.

2 November 2005 (Wednesday) – 3 November 2005 (Thursday) – Chivay to Colca Canyon to Arequipa, Peru

We departed rather early, around 6am, and drove towards Cruz del Condor. But along the way, we stopped at several towns like Yanque and Maca for us tourists to do touristy things like take photos of the traditionally-dressed ladies with their cute alpacas and children dancing traditional dances (and give them a tip naturally). Gosh, I could not believe that they dragged these kids up at 5am to dance in front of the plaza at 6:30am for us to take photos! Poor dears!! Well, perhaps, what we are doing are really benefitting them, I don’t know.

However, I must add that the traditional dresses here in this area around Chivay are the most interesting I had seen so far! Their tops are embroidered elaborately around the collars and sleeves, and the ladies wear another overly embroidered vests. Their skirts are long, all the way to the ankles, and also embroidered crazily at the hemline. Meanwhile, their hats… gosh, every inch is embroidered as well!! There are two types of hats… one for the indigenous group around Chivay and another, around Cabanaconde.

Meanwhile, the view of Colca Canyon to our right was drop-dead gorgeous!! The other side of the canyon had numerous little towns, with terraced farmlands. Many of these terraces are Pre-Incas or Incas. Amazing that they are still in used now. I have to repeat myself… the views here was just fantastic! I know it is perhaps impossible to rank how great views are but I think, this is one of the most beautiful most beautiful most beautiful places I have seen in Peru.

We finally arrived at Cruz del Condor at around 8:30am. There were some lookout spots for us. I took out my little condor finger puppet and wiggled it around, hoping to attract a mate for it. However, we saw just a couple of condors but way down below, very far away… a mere dot. I was hoping we could see them fly really high up, near to the lookouts. As I was on the trekking trip, my guide hastened me away by 9am. I felt quite disappointed as I had really signed up for this trip to see the condors. Oh well.

From my bus tour of 9 people, only Vlatka and I were on the trekking trip. I bade hurried farewells to some of them before hurrying (as much as I could hurry at 3,400m without dropping dead) to the public bus that would take us to the starting point of the hike.

My guide for the hike was Eduardo. Besides Vlatka, there were 2 other tourists – Emma from England and Sergio from Italy, both work as ski instructors in Switzerland so they speak French to each other. Eduardo is a very evasive kind of person. Whenever we asked him, how long it takes to hike down to wherever, he would smile shyly and say, “Depende” (It depends). OK, let’s do it.

We hiked to the edge of the canyon and saw the small towns of Malata and Coshiñihua on the opposite the Colca River. We even saw the oasis – the only patch of green in this very dry canyon – where we would be spending our night. Gosh… they all look impossibly tiny! How in the world were we to get through all this, I seriously wondered.

Here, there are no roads for vehicles at all. Everything had to be brought in by mules, donkeys, horses or on foot. It was really hot and dry, there were many types of cacti all over on the edges of the canyon. The locals had also used the pre-Incas terraces for cultivation. Eduardo told us that many years ago, there was a snowline at the top of the mountains. But now, no more, perhaps just some snow in January. Everything had become much drier than before.

Soon, we came to a place where we could see the bridge that we had to get to cross to the other side of the canyon. It was tiny, really at the bottom of the canyon. In the end, we took 3 hours to hike all the way down, through zig-zagging rocky paths. My toes certainly had some serious blisters by now. I was afraid to look. And my knees, gosh… they really hurt, my legs were terribly shaky when I finally reached the bridge. We had to sign in at a guestbook to show the world who had survived the hike so far.

Then, it was another 1/2 hour to San Juan where we could finally rest as we waited for our lunch to be prepared. Right opposite us were incredible vertical lines of volcanic rocks, which, in many countries, they call them ‘organ pipes’. Just thoroughly amazing view. Meanwhile, I looked and my blisters, as large as my large toes, were already broken and oozing liquid. Argh.

At around 3pm, we started out hiking again. There was a short climb of 20 minutes but we were nearly dying at the end of it. I could not imagine how I could climb for 3 hours tomorrow!!! Anyway, it was a straight path through the 2 villages we saw from opposite just now – Coshiñihua and Malata. They looked rather sad and deserted. I could not imagine living here, so isolated and so dry. But people had lived here since the pre-Incas time, so I guess there will always be people living here. I had also seen many criss-crossing paths all over the canyons. Eduardo told me they lead to even more isolated towns behind the mountains. For the locals, they would need 2 days to get there. For us, haha… 5 days, if we are lucky.

Then, we had to hike down again. Yes, I could see the gleaming swimming pool at the oasis!! But how far it looked still!! How much longer??, I asked Eduardo, with pleading eyes. Again, he was non-commitant, “Depende… 30 o 45 minutos”. In the end, I took 45 minutes, I went really slowly as my knees were not coping at all. I ended up not being able to process anything in my brain and kept tripping over rocks or walking in a drunken criss-crossing manner.

Finally finally finally… after a total of 5 and 1/2 hours of hiking, I stumbled into the green grassy patch of the oasis!! Emma and Sergio had their feet in the pool. What? Why aren’t you guys in the pool yet?, I was incredulous. They explained that they were worried about feeling cold after they get out as the sun was setting and we were in the shade now. Huh?? I could not believe my ears. I came all this way here. So, I MUST get into the damn pool. I did not care if I froze to death later. I changed and plunged right in. Argh!!!! The water stung my blisters badly. But gosh, it was really refreshing and indeed, a paradise here as I looked up at the breathtaking canyon all around me.

What the tour companies described to us as ‘bungalows’ were mere straw shacks. Vlatka and I refused to look around for snakes or spiders. After dinner, we had an early night as tomorrow, apparently, we had to get up by 2:30am to start our hike at the ungodly hour of 3am!!!!! We kept asking Eduardo, why we had to do it this way. He explained it was better to get going before the sun comes out as it would really be tough hiking uphill.

Indeed, the next morning, sleepily, we set off at 3am in the absolute darkness. I was knackered after 15 minutes! How could I complete this hike in 3 hours?? Well, I give up wondering, I just concentrated on surviving to the next half hour. I was the last in our group, and after each 20 minutes, Eduardo and the rest waited for me. By 4:30am, when it was starting to light up a little, Sergio went up ahead at his pace and Eduardo stayed with me. He even helped me carry my small backpack, how sweet of him. I also started chewing coca leaves by then. Other groups passed us, one group even went by ‘taxis’ – horses, that is.

Slowly, the canyon started to wake up as well. Gosh, it was surreal and incredibly beautiful to see the colours change. I mean, this was the other ‘face’ of the canyon… first, a skyful of stars in pitch black darkness and then, some grey shades discerning the distant layers of mountains and finally… we got orange. Yep, we got orange!

Hmm… thanks to the coca leaves, I passed Emma and Vlatka and finally managed to reach the top by 6:10am. What an amazing sense of satisfaction! But no, this was not the end… we still had another 30 minutes’ walk to the village of Cabanaconde for a hurried breakfast before dashing to take the 7am bus to Arequipa.

We just made it as the bus was actually already pulling out of the plaza when we arrived. When we climbed onboard, I saw that it was full, and crowded with people standing along the aisle. Oh, no way are we going to stand for 5 to 6 hours to Arequipa!!, I thought. My knees are killing me. I need a place to DIE now, please. But, the ticket guy told me to follow him. Oh great, Eduardo had shoved us our tickets just now and our tour companies had made reservations so we actually had seat numbers! The ticket guy shooed the poor Peruvians off our seats, sorry, and so, we happily collapsed down.

We arrived in Arequipa at 1:30pm and bade one another farewell. I helped Vlatka buy a bus ticket to Nazca and I myself got my ticket to Puno for tomorrow. Back in Fernando’s apartment for a well-deserved wash, some food and sleep, yes… sleep.

“Sleep that knits up the ravell’d sleave of care,
The death of each day’s life, sore labour’s bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course,
Chief nourisher in life’s feast.” (dear, dear Macbeth)

1 November 2005 (Tuesday) – Arequipa to Chivay, Peru

There were many tours being sold as just a 2-day-1-night bus tour, which sounded too touristy for me. And 2-day-1-night or 3-day-2-night Colca Canyon trek. However, this tour I was taking was a combination of the two.

The first part of my trip was a bus tour to Chivay. As we left Arequipa, we could see the various impressive volcanoes around Arequipa – Pichu Pichu, El Misti and Chachani. We then stopped by a little cafe in the middle of the desert plateau to have a cup of mate de coca, which would help us acclimatize as we would later be taken to a pass of 4,800m. I love mate de coca, I would drink it even if I was not having problems with altitude. Meanwhile, we introduced ourselves to one another in the group, chatting and getting to know one another.

The next part of the journey was through very high and dry lands, with not a tree in sight, just cacti and licho, the high-plain grass. We spotted a small group of very pretty, golden-furred vicuñas as here was a reserve where the authorities were trying to rear them back from near-extinction.

At the 4,800m pass, the bus stopped briefly for us to take photos. There was actually not much of a view, as the surrounding area was very high as well, so we could not really have a good view of the Andes mountains. Previously bored tourists had stacked small rocks on top of one another all over this area though, making it quite a sight.

We soon arrived at the door of a restaurant and were herded in hurriedly, the guide informing us that this was our lunch stop and we had to pay for the lunch separately. Wow, everything on the menu was 14 soles and above (about US$5). I had been used to paying around 6 soles and below (even better) for my food. This was too expensive! But, I thought we must be in some isolated place and given no choice, I ordered bistec de alpaca (alpaca’s steak). Tough, not so good.

After lunch, we were driven a couple more blocks and told to get off at our hostel. We realised we had already arrived in Chivay. Now, here were some restaurants selling lunch for more or less 5 soles. Rats! I hate organised tours who bring us to exorbitantly-priced restaurants. Gosh, I had imagined Chivay to be an isolated little innocent town. But this is Peru, which attracts possibly the largest number of foreign tourists in South America, and they know they had to milk every possible soles out from the tourists’ pocket. So, Chivay had been transformed to have numerous hotels as well as pizza restaurants which accept credit cards.

After a short rest, we walked to La Calera, a thermal pool an hour’s walk away. It was more than twice the price of my private thermal bath back in Cajamarca, but sigh… I am here in touristy southern Peru, so stop quivering. I gave in. Still, I had a delightful time in the thermal bath, chatting with Debbie and Andrew from England and Vlatka from Croatia. Gosh, I realised that all these times, I had been thinking absolutely in Spanish to the point that now when I am speaking English to them, I am speaking really BAD English, making the same mistakes that Spanish speakers make when they speak English as I translated directly from Spanish to English!!

For dinner, we would be brought to a restaurant with folkloric dances. I just knew this was another tourist trap. So, I had a 3-soles sandwich beforehand, before going to the restaurant. Gosh, this must be the restaurant with the most hilarious menu. For the benefit of foreign tourists, the restaurant gamely printed English translation of the menu. But it looked like someone merely passed the Spanish words through the computer and printed the English equivalent without any consultation with any true English speakers. Now, this was the Chivay I expected.

Some examples…

Lomo Saltado – this is finely-sliced beef loins, stir-fried in salty sauce, with onions and fries. What it became was ‘Jumped Loin’, because ‘Saltado’ is ‘Jumped’.

Pollo a la Plancha – this is pan-fried chicken. It became ‘Chicken to the Iron’. You could just imagine flinging a chicken to the iron on my ironing board.

Alpaca a la Horno – this, as you know, is the meat of the lovable long-necked animal whose wool is used to make sweaters. It was ‘German Nickel to the Oven’. German nickel?? What in the world is that!!?!!

Crema de Tomate– this is cream of tomato. Unfortunately, for ‘crema’, they used the verb form for ‘cremate’. It became ‘It cremates of Tomato’. You imagine a cook burning a dead body and then, mix the ashes with squashed tomato, don’t you?

Postres a la Casa – this is House Desserts and personally, it takes the cake, man. It was translated as ‘Prostrates to the He/She Marries’. From ‘postres’ to ‘prostrates’?? What the!!! And ‘casar’ is to marry. To conjugate for third person, it would be ‘casa’. But ‘casa’ is also ‘house’. Here, they unfortunately did not pick ‘house’ but used the third person conjugation – ‘He/She Marries’.

It was hilarious!!! Everyone was stupefied and doubled-over laughing. Everything was priced 14 soles to 30 soles. Other tourists looked at me funny when I said I was not ordering anything. “But Trisha… it is ONLY 14 soles.” Huh??? ONLY?? I just ordered a little cup of mate de coca, of course.

31 October 2005 (Monday) – Arequipa, Peru

I wanted to show Fernando the glass jewellery I made and searched for them in my bag.

THEY WERE GONE!!!!!!!!!!

Shit!!! What could have happened?? I took everything out of my bag and there was no glass jewellery! I could not believe it. No wonder, I had found my bag ransacked last night. So, indeed, someone had been through my bag and had taken the glass jewellery.

But the questions were WHO, WHEN and HOW?

Fernando and I discussed the possibilities. The lock on my bag was not broken. The bus company could not have done it, as they would not have the opportunity to know my code on the lock, and even have time to slowly search through the bag. If they wish to steal something, they are better off just carting the entire bag away.

The next possibility was at Teresa’s sister’s apartment. I had opened my bag to put in my money. At that time, I had a quick glance and did not notice that my red fleece jacket was near the top of my bag. But last night when I opened my bag, my red fleece jacket, which I usually put at the bottom of my bag, was right at the top. So, the theft must had happened between the time when I put my money inside and when I collected my bag in the night.

But why not take the money?, was Fernando’s question. True, how strange.

Fernando called Teresa to tell her what had happened. I did not believe she had anything to do with it, as she was working the whole day yesterday. But perhaps, she would be able to suspect someone. Teresa was thoroughly surprised, and insisted it was impossible for this to have happened. Still, she would check with her mother to see if they saw anyone near my bag yesterday.

Teresa later dropped by Fernando’s apartment and insisted that all that had happened was impossible. My lock was not broken, and if there was a thief in the house, why did he not steal the hi-fi set in the living room? Why not the money in the bag? Why just the stupid glass jewellery? She inisted no one, except the family, came into the apartment. Anyway, there was nothing I could do as I had no proof, and we had nothing else to add, so we said farewell.

I felt really horrid! These were my own personal creations!! I had felt so proud of them, thinking of giving them as gifts to my friends or even selling them, if I could. Gosh, this is my second time in Arequipa and I had been robbed AGAIN!! Fernando’s best friend, Antonio, had arrived at this moment, and we went through all the possibilities again. It was strange that the thief would take the glass jewellery and NOT the money. So, could it have happened BEFORE I put my money in? No, like I said, my bag was not ransacked before I put my money in. But, why would the thief not take my money?

Antonio, who is a Reiki therapist, told me to forget it all. Thinking through these negative thoughts would just attract more negative energy to me. Yeah, I know the same spiel from Rene (whom I met in Cuenca, Ecuador), another Reiki therapist. I tried not to think about it for the rest of the day.  After a while, the lost items did not appear that important anymore as I kept coming back to HOW it could have happened.

In the end, I realised that the fact that my lock was not broken, meant that someone must have known my code number. And how would he/she know? He/she must have been near to me when I opened my lock to put my money in. Teresa’s kid sister, a 15-year old girl, was right next to me at that moment.

So, why would the thief not take the hi-fi set? It was because it was someone from the house.

And why would the thief not take the money? It was because it was not a THIEF thief. This was a petty thief. It was someone who dared not take the money, knowing that if that happened, I would call the police. But if he/she took some other things not of much value, perhaps, I would not call the police.

Why the glass jewellery? For a young girl, they look pretty.

In the end, I just knew who was the culprit but there was nothing I could do. I wanted to be able to claim the theft from my insurance, but that would mean calling the police to lodge the report. And the police would have to investigate, and that meant going to the apartment and interviewing everyone.

No, I could not bear this to happen to Teresa and her family. So, I decided to forget about it all. I mean, I call them ‘jewellery’, but they are really just glass. What was lost were the silver fittings which cost quite a bit for me. Sigh, this is my first (and I hope only) bad experience from using the Hospitality Club service, although I know Teresa had absolutely nothing at all to do with this. And the fact that someone ran through my bag and left my money and passport alone, perhaps, I should count myself lucky. I just had to be much more careful next time, and sigh… less trusting.

Fernando accompanied me to town to change money, find a Colca Canyon tour later in the afternoon and check out the Halloween celebrations. I booked myself for a 3-day-2-night bus-cum-trekking tour, leaving tomorrow. May I forget everything that had happened after the trek.

29 October 2005 (Saturday) – 30 October 2005 (Sunday) – Lima to Arequipa, Peru

This Sunday, there is an election happening in Arequipa to decide if they would be united with 2 other states, Puno and Tacna. So, those Arequipeñas living in Lima are making their way to Arequipa this Saturday. I am not going there to vote, of course, but I am heading that way today and nearly all the bus tickets were booked up. As such, I settled for a really fancy bus that cost me 100 soles!! Super expensive because the bus companies took advantage of the occasion to raise the prices. Sheesh… The catchy phrase for this company CIAL is ‘Somos Peruanos’ (We are Peruvians). It was more like ‘Somos Ladrones de Peruanos’ (We are thieves of Peruvians).

Oh, bye bye to Emiko, Dante and Señora Maria who works in their apartment!! Sob-sob… How I would miss Señora Maria’s cooking!! Actually, I think Percy and Dante will find it impossible to travel in the future, since they cannot pack Señora Maria along! Well, I wish them all the best, especially to Dante who would be going to Japan next year (without Señora Maria) to study and find a job, and hopefully, get a Japanese passport (like Fujimori) as his father is a Peru-born Japanese.

Percy brought me to the bus company and stayed til he saw me safely tucked into the bus. What a fantastic and caring family!! I thought back and realised, when I was not at the glass workshop, I had spent nearly my entire week talking to each and everyone of them in rather deep conversations! It had really been wonderful sharing everything with them.

The bus was superbly comfortable. The stewardess served us a very tasty dinner as well. 6 years ago, here in Peru, I did not remember such buses existed. Then, 2.5 years ago, they had appeared and I was mightly impressed. Now, they seemed a common sight. If I had to rank the comforts of buses in the various South American countries, minus Guyana, Surinam, French Guinea, Paraguay, Uruguay and Bolivia where I had not been to… I would say Argentine and Peruvian (good) buses are the best! Next, would probably be Brazil. Then, Chile, Venezuela and Colombia get so-so reviews. And lastly, tiny Ecuador, but well, for its short distances, I guess, the buses were tolerable.

After a very comfortable 15 hours-odd ride, we arrived in sunny Arequipa the next morning. Arequipa now has a bus terminal where all the bus companies gathered. Now, this was more like it! Unlike other cities, it would be much easier to compare prices amongst the bus companies and change buses.

Teresa (not her real name), from Hospitality Club who had replied to my request for hosts, came to pick me up. However, she was not able to offer me accommodations as her apartment was full of aunts and uncles who had come to vote. So, I gave Fernando, another Hospitality Club member, a surprise call. He had responded as well, but I declined his offer as I thought I could stay with Teresa.

Anyway, he was very welcoming and suggested that we go to his apartment in an hour’s time. Teresa suddenly had a suggestion, that I should stay at her sister’s apartment. She told me the apartment was very small but I could sleep on the sofa. At first, I thought the apartment just had her sister, so I agreed. But when I arrived, I realised her sister has a husband and a baby. With such a tiny apartment, with no doors to separate the bedroom from the living room, I actually felt it was not such a good idea. I felt that I would be too much trouble for them.

Well, we agreed to this arrangement for the moment, as we headed off to meet Fernando. My first impression of Fernando was that he is a nice person. Although he lives alone, I felt that I could trust him. And he had a separate room and bed.

As Teresa had to run off somewhere, I spent the day with Fernando, who later invited me to his parents’ apartment for lunch. We then took a short walk around the city centre to check out prices of the tours to Colca Canyon, but many tour companies were not opened as it was Sunday today. Well, 6 years ago, I was robbed here in Arequipa. So, I would be honest to say that frankly, I felt a little afraid of walking around Arequipa by myself. Meanwhile, Teresa and her family and Fernando’s parents had piled me with warnings. Glad to have Fernando around.

By nightfall, I decided I would stay with Fernando, so we returned to the apartment of Teresa’s sister, thanked them profusely and took my bags and left. That night, when I opened my bag, I was shocked. Everything in my bag had been rearranged. It seemed someone had run through it, searching for something. My first thought was my money. Well, they were right there, all intact. Hmmm… I felt very suspicious, but as my money was here, it seemed nothing had been taken. I reluctantly decided perhaps it was the movement of the bus that had created this disturbance. But seriously, in my 5 months’ of travelling on even worse buses, this had never happened to me.

28 October 2005 (Friday) – Lima, Peru

Danitza arrived at Percy’s home to deliver my glass items. However, as I had to go with her to buy the silver fittings for the glass jewellery, I simply left them at home without looking.

If I have to buy silver, I should buy them in Peru as here, they MINE silver. But still, I could not buy everything, it will cost too much and I still need money for survival for perhaps another month! I looked through my glass creations. Wow, some of them turned out quite nice but perhaps half of them were so-so or downright awful. I guess this is the element of surprise that I like about this craft. You can never know for sure what to expect… the colours changed after baking, the colours spread around and mixed everything up, sometimes there are bubbles, some big, some small, sometimes no bubbles. So, you can never be sure until they all come out after more than 24 hours.

We tried the various silver fittings and I bought just enough for my budget and eagerly returned home to check out the rest of my creations. The display plate turned out rather nice. I also adore the ash-tray and the candle-holder, but the soap dish was a little off. The salsa dish was alright, but I guess I do not quite fancy the black outlines. Wow, I am so excited as I already have a lot more ideas in my head. I guess I am really going to continue this craft when I return to Singapore.

I sat down and stuck the silver fittings to my glass jewellery to make rings, necklaces and ear-rings. Oh, they looked rather nice.

Later, when Percy’s mother came home, I gave her the display plate. She was delighted. It was too big for me to carry but I was more than happy to give it to the family that had been feeding me and taking care of me… well, my Lima family!! I later also gave a pair of earrings to Emiko.

At 9 or 10pm, Percy’s mother, her friend, Dante and I prepared to go to a restaurant where folkloric dances were performed. We called Emiko, who was still at work, the poor thing, and she was game to join us as well. So, we drove to pick her up and headed to this restaurant called La Candelaria in Barranco.

Wow, the restaurant was nearly full. Folkloric dances from all over Peru were performed to great ‘live’ music and much enthusiasm. The Peruvians and tourists were all very responsive and spontaneous.  Whenever the music played for the floor, everyone ran up excitedly to dance. There was no hesitation at all. It was great to feel the energy here! Percy’s mother loves dancing and we, except Dante who refused to dance, got up and danced to the folkloric music or merengue or whatever.

The compere went through the entire restaurant asking foreigners which countries they come from. Estados Unidos… Holanda… Inglaterra… España… Portugal… Suiza… Panama… Chile… Colombia… Tailandia… SINGAPUR… Argentina… etc…

Later to our surprise, a tray of flags was brought out. The compere asked representatives from each country to come out to collect their flags. I guessed there would not be a flag for Singapore. For, what are the odds that another Singaporean had been to this restaurant previously for them to prepare a flag of ours. Indeed, they even had a flag for Thailand but no flag for me… Still, the compere remembered SINGAPUR and beckoned me to come right up to the floor, apologizing on behalf of Peru, that they had no flag for me. Haaha…

Now, here’s the funny bit. The compere wanted us each to perform our country’s traditional dance!! The music started for the Chilean lady and her hankerchief dance called Cueca… Wow, very sporting of her! Then, samba for the amazingly svelte Portugal lady who was superb in her rapid and sexy samba moves… The Colombians did a little cheesy cumbia… The Spanish guy faked a flamengo… The Thai girl tried her best with some graceful moves but the musicians had no clue what Thai music was and simply played something which was what they thought to be Oriental-sounding. The Argentines circled the floor with a slow tango… And thank goodness, for the rest of us with seemingly no traditional dances, we did YMCA. What a fun evening!! My final night in Lima and I was one of the stars of the evening… haha…

26 October 2005 (Wednesday) – 27 October 2005 (Thursday) – Lima, Peru

I had these two days free because my course instructor Danitza was busy in an exhibition. But I also had to wait at least 24 hours for the glass to be baked and cooled. I would only see them on Friday. I hope they look OK!!

Percy had time today to give me a spin around the various districts of Lima, from Barranco to Lima centre to Miraflores to Chorillos and back home in Surco. Previously, my knowledge of Lima was just the colonial Lima centre, my hostel and the horrible area around the bus companies in Paseo de la Republica. Now, wow… I was surprised at how pretty some parts of Lima is or has become.

I remembered the colonial Lima centre to be busier with more low-lifes and was more grungy-looking 6 years ago. Now, it is clean, with pretty spotlights, an artistic sculpture near Rimac River. It is really a very pleasant place now to walk around and relax. Of course, when we looked out at Rimac River, under the bridge, we spotted some piranhas. These are, of course, NOT the flesh-eating fishes. These are young boys, perhaps 8 years old to mid-teens, who attack people, mainly tourists with all their baggages, by jumping on them in a group of… well, anywhere between 4 to 20… and ripping everything off from the victims in minutes. Yep, much like how piranhas attack in groups and devour the victims of all the flesh in a matter of seconds. Really, there is nothing you can do if the piranhas attack you. This is a rather famous form of robbery here in Lima.

When I first told Percy about this kind of robbery, adding that that was why I fear Lima and did not originally plan on coming here, Percy laughed it off, saying that Lima is safe, nothing bad had ever happened to him. As it turned out, I learnt from his brother and sister later, that yes… nothing bad had ever happened to THEM… but to Percy, he had been robbed uncountable times. In fact, he was nearly kidnapped about 5 or 6 months ago by a gang who mistook him for a rich boy, as he has some friends who are really rich. Thank goodness, the police arrived just in time. Naturally, the police then asked Percy for some money in return. Sigh… corruption corruption corruption.

Percy had explained to me what each of the items in the embelm of the Peruvian flag represent and when he finished, I had asked him in jest, “And corruption is represented by?”.

Despite insisting that Lima is ‘safe’, when we reached the Lima centre, Percy quickly took off his watch and asked me to do the same and he kept them in the glove compartment. We were in a car! But still, Percy assured me this step was necessary.  He too had had his watch and cellphone ripped off from his hand while sitting in a car before. 

Anyway, as for the other districts, they are modern, clean and look rather peaceful and pretty. The borderline between a good and bad neighbourhood is very obvious sometimes. Here on this side of the road, I could see really lovely-looking grand houses. But, just right opposite, I would see the incomplete dodgy-looking houses of the poor in pueblos jovenes (like favelas in Brazil) built up the hills.

That evening, I had a really great time chatting with Dante, Emiko and her boyfriend Angel over dinner. It was just fantastic getting to know each and everyone of them, their likes and dislikes and other idiosyncracies. The entire family was just fantastic! All of them were so concerned about me and made it a point to take turns to take care of me and help me. They were terribly interested to know about Asian cultures, Singapore, confirming the rumour of those horrible food in Asia. In Percy’s absence, they joked that Percy is like the little mouse in a Warner Brothers cartoon where each time his friend asked him, “What should we do tomorrow?”, the little mouse would cry out, “Let’s conquer the world!!”. Yep, Percy’s ambition is to conquer the world. When asked about it later, he corrected… not the world, just South America would do.

Wait a minute… on closer observation, Percy does bear a slight resemblance to Dr. Evil, Austin Power’s arch enemy, but with hair. I can just imagine Percy stroking his pet dog, Mirko Lopez (really, that’s the dog’s name), and proclaiming, “We hold the world ransom for 1 million dollars!!” Heheee…

The next day, after breakfast, I chatted with Percy first until noon, before Dante came home, and then I chatted with Dante til 6pm. Wow, 8 or 9 hours of non-stop chatting for me at the same spot and in Spanish as well! Incredible that we had so much to talk about!!! I told them about reading auras and it turned out, Dante is something of a psychic as well. He sometimes can see apparitions, and for his school’s exams, he always knew which questions would come out. So, his ‘last-minute’ friends always implored him for exam tips. As I explained how I was taught to read auras, I asked them to try.  Percy could not, but Dante got it right away. He said my aura was violet, oh great, that’s my true colour for being a 7… the colour of spirituality.

I also learnt from them so much about what happened to Lima and Peru in the 1980s and 1990s where there were terrorists and bomb attacks everywhere all the time. They also described what happened during the 1997 terrorist attack on the Japanese Embassy. Gosh, I certainly did not know that the army went to the mountains, kidnapped the best miners to build tunnels under the embassy. These poor miners were not told anything, they were just told to start building tunnels here. The clueless families of the miners thought they disappeared and died. The terrorists were surprised when the army entered the embassy from underneath and killed them all. We made a joke that people from Lima, if they had survived here, they can survive anywhere. However, it was not so true for some people… recently, there had been some news about 4 Peruvian students who were killed for racism reason in Russia. Poor things!!

In the evening, I had an appointment with another Hospitality Club member, Raquel, and as Percy had to go to school, he instructed Dante to take care of me. Wow, see? I have two bodyguards here in Lima! Dante drove me to the meeting point at Cine El Pacifico in Miraflores and soon, Raquel arrived. We persuaded Dante to join us and we went to a pizza place.

Raquel herself was thinking of making a 6-month trip next year. So, when I wrote to her asking for accommodation, she was very keen to meet me, seeing that I, a single woman, am doing a trip like what she intends to. I encouraged her, telling her that it is a great way to travel and she will have a fantastic time meeting people all over, especially people through Hospitality Club. Be open-minded with lots of positive energy and you would attract amazing people all the time! And anyway, we also concluded that if she is from Lima, she can survive anything anywhere. Naturally, she was worried that it might be difficult for her to find a job when she returns. Well, I have the same worry as well, so I cannot for sure tell her that everything will be fine, especially since I think the situation here in Peru is much more different than in my country. Anyway, one really has to do this sort of travelling, that is for sure. I am sure things will all work out in the end.