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Excerpts from Day Three of My Travel Journal Post Date: 11/10/04
Original Journal Date: 10/31/04 10-31-Sunday, Tecama, Ica and Nazca
Now that we've left Lima and headed down the coast, I feel like the trip has really started. At 9am this morning, we left with Fernando and his Mitsubishi to head South. Have I mentioned that a)Fernando is probably one of the twenty most physically beautiful men you will ever see in your life and b)I don't really mean 9am? I mean, sure, we were supposed to leave at 9am, but then people were late getting their baggage downstairs to get loaded on top of the truck. Then there was confusion about the baggage that was being left at the hostel instead of being brought with us. Then there was debate about who was going to sit where in the truck. Then, music had to be selected. Then we had to stop for gas, at which point, despite the fact that we'd all been up for a couple of hours and had had plenty of time to take care of things back at the hostel, every single person in the truck decides that they need to get out at the gas station and either get a Coke (another in the long line of most excellent exports) or go to the bathroom. So when I say we left at 9am, what I really mean is that at 9:45am we finally started to drive out of Lima. Cluster. But by now I'm just starting to find it more amusing than anything else. As we're driving out of Lima, we pass a squatter community. People are living in shacks made of corrugated metal with thatched roofs. They have no running water. They steal their electricity if they can get it. The people of this country, at least some of them, live in a type of poverty most Americans can't even begin to imagine. The Cute Boy often points out to me that in America, even our poorest of the poor have a television set and can eat at McDonald's every day of the week. Here's an example of something that actually happens in Peru: People have no place to live, and so they create these squatter communities of shacks with stolen electricity and not filtered water. The men go and work in the agricultural areas outside of the city or sell things on the streets. So do the women and children, actually. Eventually, when the squatter community gets big enough, the country comes in and helps the people to build real, solid houses, because really, what else can they do? Anything less than that would be murdering your own people. One of the most startling images of this day was about an hour outside of the city. On our left, for miles and miles, there were these primitive, one room, thatched shacks where the farm workers lived. No water. No electricity. No real protection from the cold at night. But they lived there and they worked the farms and poultry farms during the day. And next to this collection of a hundred of these shacks, a huge Coca Cola billboard. No matter where you go, how little money or resources you have, there will always be a Coke and a smile. The children here are also put to work very early. The number of children younger than ten years old who we've seen selling candy or souvenirs on the median between the freeway lanes is absurd. It must be hard to care about or even obtain an education in a place where your family needs for you to work from the time you can be on your own so that you all can eat. I rarely rally for the amazingness of the USA, because I generally don't feel it. But in this case, point for the states. We may misuse our wealth some (most) of the time, but at least our wealth affords us the opportunity to make decisions about our priorities. Enough of this. Despite all of this poverty, we spent the early part of the day tasting wine. Not.Joking. Even the wine tasting was weird though, because on the way to the actual winery (Tecama, Peru's finest wine, seriously), you drive down this one-lane dirt road. Then there are children begging for your change at the winery door, which is full of security to keep the poor folk out and the rich tourists in. Once you're in, it's like a different world, full of flowers and beauty. Strange. Fun Fact: The vines used to grow the wine grapes exist because the monks brought them over from the continent back in the day. So this winery is housed in what used to be a monastery. It really was lovely in there, though there is a reason why Peru is not known for its wines. All but one of the wines was of the blended variety, and all but one was sweet. Hard to taste that many of those, but that didn't stop Heike and I from doubling up on the tasting and sneaking all kinds of extra booze. We're classy. We drank and drank, and then despite the surrounding poverty which should have made us feel guilty, and despite the fact that the wine wasn't really all that good, we bought a bunch of bottles. Yep. Now we were hauling glass bottles of booze around with us, too. And in my case, at least, five of those bottles were hauled all the way back to the states. We rock. After Tecama, we decided to stop in Ica for lunch. Cluster. So on the way into Ica, Fernando suggests one of two places. We can stop for chicken and fries, which will be fast. Fast is a good thing because we left late and then spent way more time than we thought we would at the winery. However, Joel doesn't eat chicken and I don't really eat French fries, so that's a problem. But the other restaurant, run by a friend of Fernando, will take time. So Joel and I agree with everybody else in the car that we will go for chicken and fries. I will only eat the chicken, and Joel will only eat the fries and it will be fine. As we are pulling into the parking space at the chicken and fry place, there is an exchange about how another one of the travelers can't eat anything here. I'm pretty sure I got a clear understanding of what the exchange was, but I was later told I didn't hear it correctly, so who knows. What I do know is at the last minute we divert to the other restaurant. Where we spend two hours. We spend two hours because it takes a long time to translate the menu for people to order. Then it takes a super long time for the food to be cooked since there are two people working in the entire restaurant and lunch is the main meal of the day in Peru. Then, one person's meal isn't enough to fill them up and the second person's meal is really just not good so she sends it back. So then two people leave to go find food somewhere else. I'm not joking. By the time we left that restaurant, we hated each other. I was wondering how we were going to make the rest of the trip together work. People hated people for ending up at the restaurant, for ordering certain things, for not ordering certain things, for a tone of voice in which a comment was made. It was rough. The car ride to the oasis was rough. That's right, we went to an actual oasis. They do exist, you know. There in the middle of nothing but sand for miles and miles and miles in any direction, there was a lake and palm trees and it was just like out of a Harlequin romance novel. We're supposed to take a dune buggy ride out into the actual dunes, but because we're so late, the next available driver won't be ready until 6:00pm. Which means darkness, which defeats the purpose. People are pissed. We make our way from the dune buggy place to the actual oasis and nobody even looks at each other and stands at least fifteen feet away from the next person. Tensions are high. And then... Miraculously a driver becomes available and we all get in a dune buggy and ... It is such an overwhelming experience that all tensions are healed and suddenly we love each other again. I've never seen so much sand. Hills and hills and hills of nothing but pure, white sand and slightly balmy but getting cooler desert air and us rushing through it in a super fast dune buggy. We stopped at three of the largest dunes and road snowboards down them. We went sand boarding! Ho and Fernando even toughed it out and went down standing up. It was fast, it was fun, and it was beautiful. Then, in the category of "everything happens for a reason," because we had gotten there late, we get to see the sun set over the desert while there's nothing else around us but dunes, and then we get to ride back and see all of the nighttime lights at the oasis lit up. It's indescribable. Jutta said it best when at the end of the ride, she said, "This will be one of the best memories of our trip." It is just that. So, we're totally covered in sand and we get back into Fernando's car. Have I mentioned that Fernando lived for six years in Italy and speaks fluent Italian? Have I mentioned he can cook? Anyway... We drive to Nazca where we're spending the next couple of days. The hotel is lovely and has large, nice bathrooms. And I actually get to room with Lisa for a couple of days, which is nice. We shower and pick sand out of every available crack and orifice in our bodies and head out to dinner at a place Fernando knows. And also, we bring four bottles of liquor in tow with us when we do. Food. Amazing. I have the corvina. So.good. The one kitchen worker is celebrating her birthday. She is tanked and comes out to talk to us about Peruvian politics. I can't stop laughing, but maybe that's because she's so tanked she can't stop talking. We sing happy birthday to her in English (well) and Spanish (poorly). Joel has tacu tacu. He falls in love with it. We drink. We drink a lot. And then, after dinner, we go out to drink some more and salsa dance. Until late. For some, until very, very late. We drink a lot of pisco sours. We dance. Okay, Heike and Fernando and I dance. But we all drink. I mention this only because there is an early day scheduled for the next day. So in the end, this will be one of the most memorable days of the trip. Bet you weren't guessing that, right? Tune in tomorrow for lots of Nazca culture. Lots and lots of Nazca culture.