Hola Peru

After two and a half months gallivanting around the paradise (all be it an impoverished one) know as Bolivia, I decided it was time to get myself into Peru. Not before however experiencing the joys of La Paz and its famed death road, which gets the name from the fact that 55 people a month died on it when it was the main road north. There is now thankfully an alternate route which means that those willing can fly down it on a mountain bike descending about 3400m in a couple of hours. Once that was complete and another mugging attempt had been avoided I had no more excuses to stay in my beloved Bolivia and thus jumped on my last Bolivian bus (characterised by the string and coke bottles which constitute functioning parts) and headed across the worlds easiest boarder crossing into Peru. Before continuing I should pass on some advice with regards to my latest avoided mugging.
Points to note if avoiding a mugging is of interest:
1) don’t find yourself in a dodgy neighbourhood at 5am (don’t ask how and why I got there)
2) an angry kiwi with a beard is an intimidating item for two Bolivian lads (for all those who criticized the man rug take note, it not only scares children but also criminals).
My first point of call in Peru was a town called Cusco which is a very touristy but beautiful town full of ancient Inca ruins and plenty of colonial churches. I had the well meaning intentions of taking it very easy in this town, however, some problems got in the way of my brilliantly devised plans to visit all the historical ‘gold’ contained in Cusco. Problem 1: After 5 months in South America, churches and museums are now about as unique and exciting as a Britney Spears political satire. Problem 2: Luke, Sarah, Phil, Alex and finger puppets. The next five days are a bit of a blur, but I do know that wade (my condor finger puppet) is an absolute booze hag, Alex is too tall to be a bar dancer (roof head problem), and a hostel common room is not an appropriate place to make sweet love, especially if a security guard is on duty, aye Luke (should point out that Luke is not the name of the security guard, and during all this dipravety I was in my own bed dreaming of reading the news paper over Scones and Tea). After 4 overly pleasurable and educational nights I decided that it was time to get to Lima before both my liver and wallet walked out on me in disgust of the abuse they had to put up with. So in the evening I jumped on a 24hr bus ride, destination, Lima and my in bound big brother aka Tits. Around half an hour into the journey I learned my last “Cusco” lesson. Tequila consumed the night before does not like to sit in ones stomach during a long windy bus trip, it prefers to ride the journey out in the toilets.After a few days of much needed rest and clean living my big brother arrived in town and thus kicked off the “tourist” travel section of my trip, having only 3 weeks to see what would normally take me 6, speed was the key. We managed to fly through Ica (Sand Oasis for sand boarding) and Nazca (big lines), like a 747 through a world trade tower. Arequipa took a little more time as we decided to do a two day trek through the worlds second largest canyon called Colca (the grand canyon isn’t the deepest in case you were wondering). Not wanting to get behind we decided (possible for the worse) to leave for our hike into the canyon at 1am. Problem being, we were still enjoying Sangrias at 12:30am. After much to the contrary complaining from my big brother we survived our hung-over hike and headed off to Puno (lake Titicaca, where people live on floating islands of reeds). As I had been warned (and fittingly so) that Puno was a shamelessly commercialised tourist trap and S@#T Whole (I should point out though that Titicaca is awesome none the less) we skipped through with as much pace as possible and headed back (much to the complaint of my liver and wallet) to the beloved ‘Cusco-topia’. After ‘ticking’ off many of the ’things to do’ such as ruins, churches and white water rafting we were all set for the big ’thing’ in Peru, Machu Pichu and the Inca trail. Over the next four day Tits, myself and nine others huffed and puffed our way up to 4200m above sea level (remembering again that Mt Cook is 3750m) and back down to 2400m where awaited us Machu Pichu, the famous ruins of the Incas. The trek was amazing, especially because of the staggering scenery, all the ancient ruins along the way and the fact that the Peruvian porters (who out numbered us) would race past us loaded with all the goods they would need to set up camp and cook us meals fit for kings (yes while camping we did enjoy pancakes for breakfast). As I am sure many of you are now thinking of Tits and I as a bunch of pussy’s I will point out that we had no choice as to weather we wanted this service or not, it is all part of the unnegotiable (extortionist) package of the Inca trail… ah what a bugger. I will point out as well that I had to share a tent with Tits who I swear has an inhumane bowl passage and should seek a transplant on his return if those of you at home who may be exposed to such rancid fumes wish to maintain the integrity of both the paint on your walls and the sensory organ known as the nose.
Any way, my boozing on the gringo trail along with Tits time here has now come to an end and I am happy to say that I will be leaving behind the many obnoxious, loud complaining gits who treat this part of the world as a Disney world ride and seem to be ignorant of the fact that the term stupid, loud American tourists (be they from America or not) who get ripped off is the term being directed at them by all around who have enough of a brain to realise that they are not actually at home, and yes people do do things differently here. Any way, I will be leaving tits soon and heading off for some more of my kind of travel, i.e. cheap and uncomfortable but full of what could be characterised as adventures for the idiotic. Columbia, here I come!