Andahuaylas to Abancay

Woke up in Andahuaylas after a night in which it rained solidly the entire time; God knows how much mud there will be on the unpaved roads in and around the town. We were both feeling much improved, so we went for a wander in Andahuaylas which is unsurprisingly geared up for agriculture; the whole region is almost completely undeveloped, dotted with mud brick pueblos and teeming with cattle, goats and campesinos living a completely traditional life, a far cry from Lima indeed.

Aymari woman in Andahuaylas

A local agricultural supplier

Condor strapped to a bull - represents fight against the conquistadors

Our minibus, Senor de Huanca, left mid-afternoon, piloted by a young indigenous guy who stopped periodically to chat with friends as we passed through some of the low-lying villages in the incredibly lush valleys between the soaring Andean peaks. Incredibly, the mountain scenery we passed today was even more dramatic and breath-taking – my pictures will not even begin to do it any kind of justice – and I got a crash course in dealing with vertigo as we trundled along unpaved roads and hairpin bends with dramatic gullies and houses clinging illogically to the sides of the mountains.

Our driver was excellent, dealing with challenging roads, dodging fallen rocks and barely flinching when a bird flew in through an open window and flapped around the cabin; the passengers wanted to keep it in the bus which made me wonder if this is considered good luck in Peru. We arrived in Abancay, our next stop on the way to Cusco and quickly settled in for a noisy night’s sleep in our room fronting onto the main street. We were itching now to get out and get closer to the amazing and ever-changing landscape we had been driving through for the past few days, but we still had further to travel before we could do this.

Ayacucho to Andahuaylas through bandit country - 26th Jan 2011

This morning we saddled up early, negotiated the scrum which always seems to accompany bus stations in developing countries – vendors selling indecipherable things in plastic bags, animals running around etc – and boarded our bus, me bunged up with Imodium as a safety precaution. A sensible one as it turned out the bus had no toilet, and would prove to make very infrequent stops – usually when the passengers mutinied when we had been stopped on the road. This happened frequently as travelling through the Central Highlands of the Andes the roads are rarely paved and just wide enough for one vehicle, so there is a lot of reversing and negotiating when we come across anyone else.

Blurred view of the Andes from the bus

Once we were away from the city we started to climb again, and soon enough we were rewarded with some of the most spectacular mountain scenery I have seen anywhere in the world. Huge looming mountains covered in mist surrounded us as we dipped in and out of the clouds, revealing breathtaking canyons and deep gullies, the tops of the Andes covered only in heather or grass in some points bizarrely reminding us of the brecons in Wales.

The landscape changed constantly, with lower areas peopled and with herds of pigs and cattle sometimes blocking the road; where agriculture could actually take place (ie not at the highest altitudes) there were picturesque pueblos made of mud and brick huts, with mountain people in their brightly coloured, knitted finery.

Stopping for lunch en route

After a quick lunch stop where Laura and I tentatively nibbled on some boiled rice and crackers, we were off again into this staggering scenery. However we were starting to learn that travel is not straight-forward in South America, particularly not during the rainy season when rock and mud slides are not uncommon. First we were diverted from one area which had been blocked off, then some 45 minutes from our destination, the tiny rural town of Andahuaylas, all vehicles on the diversion road also ground to a halt as this had been blocked too.

This was a good test for our developing Spanish as we tried to understand from the bus driver what was going on; we pooled our resources with the only other gringo we’d seen for a couple of days, a mad, elderly German guy who it turned out could understand less than us. Meanwhile the rest of the passengers had scarpered down the hill to meet the replacement bus at the bridge, a 30 minutes hike. In a bit of a panic we gather up all our luggage and strode after them as darkness fell in the middle of nowhere.

All ended well however as we were picked up on this remote road by an unmarked colectivo taxi (as it turned out), who stuffed us and all our luggage into the boot of a station wagon; not the most comfortable ride but we didn’t care as it meant we’d not be spending the night shivering on the bus. From our vantage looking out the back window we passed another small town before Andahuaylas which was having a celebration too, and the fiesta included fireworks and a giant fussball tournament with about 10 tables all lined up, a strange sight in this backwater.

Arriving in Andahuaylas we struggled through pouring rain to find a cheap hostel, most of which were pretty nasty, then headed out for a satisfyingly gringo supper of pizza. We had a good chat to some nice locals in a shop who warned us against using the big bus companies for the next leg of our journey, then hit the (odd-smelling) sack.

Last day of recuperation - 25th Jan 2011

Bit of a write-off today as altitude sickness and diarrhoea combined to keep us in the vicinity of the hotel. Laura was a bit better and visited the market, and we risked a meal in the evening despite needing to run to the loo periodically. We walked back through the town which seemed to be celebrating something as fireworks were going off periodically and there were a few, lairy drunken Peruvian guys staggering around. We were feeling ok by bed though and ready to move on.

Exploring Ayacucho - 24th Jan 2011

While Laura slept (in between bouts of running to the toilet), I explored further in Ayacucho. As it was Sunday there were lots of families out and about, as well as a small and rather sweet military display in the main square with formation marching and a small brass band. I popped my head into a couple of churches which were celebrating mass; one a very old-school traditional catholic mass and it was interesting to note that the preacher used the same cadences as all the sermons I had to listen to as a kid. The other was a happy, clappy service in a modern building, where everyone was greeted with a handshake as they came in off the street.

Downtown Ayacucho

I started to notice signs for something called Mondongo everywhere, which seemed to be a Sunday-only delicacy. I’ll have some of that, I thought, and was subsequently reminded of why I hate tripe so much – especially for breakfast. I seemed to be in the minority though. I left most of it, and headed for the Mercardo where I saw lots of severed pigs heads and Quechan people selling crafts, ingredients for charms and natural healing and so on. I stopped for a delicious, and cheap, pineapple juice which is becoming a firm favourite.

Waiting to buy bus tickets

Back at the ranch I gathered up Laura and we hobbled off to book our onward bus tickets, another step forward in negotiating in Spanish and working out what the hell is going on around me. We were both feeling queasy and the effects of the altitude were lingering, so we decided on another quiet night and day to follow.

Ayacucho and altitude sickness - 23rd Jan 2011

During the previous night, we had travelled to almost 4000 metres above sea level; the bus was cramped and stank, was almost 2 hours late and when it arrived someone was in our seat (they got kicked out though). How I love travelling! Despite the driver slamming the bus round terrifying hairpin bends and wailing babies, we did manage to sleep, and when the light came we were rewarded with an amazing panorama of soaring green forested mountains, the clouds coagulating around their lower parts reminding us of how high we were.

Plaza de Armas and Catedral in Ayacucho

Altitude sickness, or soroche, kicked in before we arrived at our next stop Ayacucho, a small but grand Andean village with stacks of churches and colonial buildings. We fended off the inevitable attention of taxi drivers (wanting to drive us 4 blocks as it turned out!) and dragged ourselves into town to regroup. The sickness was at its strongest, so we turned to the classic remedy, coca tea which seemed to have a small but noticeable effect and retired to a friendly little hotel – my first successful bout of bargaining completely in spanish. We slept all morning, and unfortunately altitude sicknes really began to kick in in the afternoon – think this is going to take a few days to get over. Laura is also ill so it looks like we will be staying here for a while.

I ventured out later in the day and got some provisions for the patient, then we ended up having an invalid’s dinner of dry biscuits, marmite and butter, rounded off with orange segments. I guess we are not exactly living it up at the moment, but this may change.

Paracas, ceviche and beach time - 22 Jan 2011

Awoken early by shouting, banging (construction) and loud music – I expect I will get a lot of this in the coming weeks! Today we're going back into Paracas to sample some coastal seafood (ceviche) then heading to Ayacucho, up in the mountains, via an overnight bus. We headed for a new travel agent first thing in the morning and got some cheap tickets – so cheap as to seem a little dubious.

Nevertheless we bought them and checked out, before heading down to the market quarter – definitely the most frenetic part of Pisco. We hopped into our first proper colectivo – the Peruvian name for the mini-busses which run from town to town picking up locals on the way, and as found all over the world where people don’t/can’t afford to run a whole car just for themselves like we do.

After a circular journey dropping off people and goods to various security guards along the way, and running the gauntlet of the smelly fish area again, we arrived in Paracas – a seaside “town” which has grown larger servicing gringos and local tourists. The weather was far hotter and the beach beckoned, so we kicked back with a beer listening to a proper Andean quartet playing folk music in the style I love so much.

We liked this dog surveying Paracas

Lunch was the much-famed cerviche and for a tourist area it was awesome, much better than anything I have had in London. We hang around testing each other on Spanish vocab and watching the waitresses flirting with delivery guys, before getting a second opinion on our bus tickets. The lady was lovely and rang up to check for us, later giving us a lift back to Pisco when we were sunned out and being swamped by taxi drivers.

Spotted while shopping in Pisco - arf, arf

Back in Pisco we settled into a bar to drink gorgeous fresh pineapple juice and wait for our connecting taxi at 9.40 – we’re anticipating a bumpy and sleepless night on the way to Ayacucho. We were hustled to a nearby town and a small shack (or “terminal”) with a couple of friendly women selling drinks and chocolate to keep us company. Our excitement grew as huge, plush bus after bus strained their way up the hill past us – all good signs we thought.

Lima to Pisco - 21st Jan 2011

A lazy morning at Casa Ana, followed by a taxi ride to the Cruz Del Sur bus station on the outskirts of town – goodbye to the big city for the time being. After a shaky start, where our bus driver ran into one of the traffic guiding police boxes which sit ubiquitously on the corner of every major intersection of Lima, we were on the road in some considerable comfort (which felt a bit like cheating).

En route Laura discovered how useful watching English language films with Spanish subtitles was to her learning, as Pierce Brosnan did his best David Attenborough impersonation on Oceans, while the actual ocean appeared on cue to our right. We drifted along through a bizarre landscape of desert mountains right next to the sea stretching away infinitely, while we were bombarded with colourful billboards advertising water, ice-cream and fashion on the Pan-American highway.

Dropped at the tourist town of Paracas, a starting point for trips to the outlying islands, we squeezed into a shared taxi with some locals and headed along the pungent-smelling coastal road through vast fish-processing plants, arriving after a while in Pisco. Trawling the town we discovered a half-built hotel with gaping holes in the walls and half-finished wiring, the latter of which I discovered by touching a live wire trying to plug in a lamp – only a minor shock luckily.

Health and safety in action - this was a two storey drop

In the evening we wandered aimlessly through the throng in the plaza major, talking to friendly street-vendors and working out what to do next. While not the loveliest town, it has lots of life as well as a thronging market and popular public spaces. Like the rest of the country, it seemed to be gripped by the presidential elections, of which there were an unending stream of different candidates, all of whom had their adherents painting huge slogans on fences, building sites etc.

On the campaign trail in Pisco...

Checking out Lima - 20th Jan 2011

Our first day waking up and feeling on top of things; we had breakfast with the owner Ana Felix Mendoza and her business partner (we think) Heinke, an elderly dutch guy who told us about their other going concern, a small charity which looks after local children with serious injuries. I listened with interest although with my typical Londoner’s suspicion that it might be a fund-raising pitch – it wasn’t though.

After breakfast, we decided to stay another day in Lima and check it out and we were based in a great central location. We headed towards town via the Institute of Modern Art and a long strip of collegios where thousands of prospective students were queuing up to register for the new academic year. It was chaos on the streets, although not as busy as some places I have been (eg Bankok) and getting anywhere takes ages because of the insane traffic.

We passed more interesting museums and fenced off grassy areas, stopping to book our bus to Pisco for the next day. The travel agent was lovely, and spoke slow Spanish so we could follow what she was saying. She also found common ground, being called Laura (Gomez) and having a sister in Melbourne – Belgrave of all places. We agreed that living in the countryside is good, then left only to be accosted and prayed over by an enthusiastic older gent, whose friend “translated” the prayer into Spanish for us.

Shantytown outside Lima

Laur in the Parque Muralla in Lima

After lunch at a great vegetarian place – vegetarianism seems to be on the rise here, a sure sign of westernisation – we spent the afternoon looking at cathedrals and plazas, as well as the Museum of the Spanish Inquisition which had lots of ghoulish scenarios (roasting feet, hanging and choking victims etc) dotted all around the place. The signage was all in wooden stocks, which I thought was a nice touch.

A spot of water-boarding going on in the background

Laur sees the funny side of torture...

Coming back out again into the mid-day heat, we wandered through the “financial district” (these are always underwhelming after the City of London and the obscenity that is the Docklands) and stopped off at a curious museum which featured pre-Inca handicrafts, cool statues, a ferociously-guarded room of golden trinkets and antiquities, as well as bizarrely a film club (showing Hollywood films) – none of which seemed to match with each other.

Punters at Quierolo

Mannequin frenzy in the fashion district of Lima

On a tip-off from our Spanish tutor Rosalind who lived in Lima for a year, we dropped into a great old-school bar which hadn’t changed for decades and had the most exceptional pisco sour I’ve yet experienced. Groggily we stumbled back to Casa Ana, self-catered and enjoyed the roof terrace on our last night in Lima.

Madrid to Lima 19th Jan 2011

Our hotel turned out to be rather nice – full marks to Iberian for turning a crap situation not of their own making around. We headed back through the mid-morning Madrid rush to the airport, and were finally on our way out of Europe in the opposite direction to how we’d travelled yesterday.

The flight was long and uneventful, watching shite American films and guzzling german pinot noir, as well as intently reading El Pais and ABC with dictionary in hand. I seem to be getting much better at handling long haul flights recently and this one was no exception.

Laur and I both managed to sleep a little despite the fact that we were chasing the sun and there were lots of excitable Spaniards and Peruvians having impromptu parties around the cabin, there was even an intense card game being played by an extended French family next door.

We arrived in Lima in the early evening, and immediately felt the heat coming off the plane – definitely in the southern hemisphere now! Getting out was quick and easy, and our friendly hostel guy Harold put us in a taxi and we sped off through the chaos of central Lima. We got our bearings by wandering around some local shops, where I upset a storekeeper by spilling her carefully arranged bottles of fizzy pop all over the floor. After a quick supper we headed for bes, still feeling a little jet-lagged.

Departure - 18th Jan 2011

Up at the relatively obscene hour of 2am for the drive from hereford to heathrow. Uneventful trip aside from poor Heath getting travel sick in the back seat and puking on her blanket – she was attempting to sleep so she would be more awake when driving Donna’s car back after dropping us off.

We boarded on time, then proceeded to sit on the tarmac for over 4 hours due to fog in Madrid. We arrived mid-afternoon to a nightmare of queuing – to get our tickets changed, to get into the shuttle bus, to get into the hotel – but like most systems, once you are inside it is much easier (that’s the way The Man likes it).  

We actually ended up getting a decent night’s sleep and in retrospect it meant we were better prepared for arriving in noisy, messy Lima. It was great to pick up El Pais and start up the long, long hill of spanish fluency - my mini-dictionary is already becoming well-thumbed...