Love

For those of you who read my blog for the witty observations and light hearted travel-banter - you might not want to read on, cos Im about to go deep....baaaaaalls deep.

Since leaving England, perhaps even before, I've been burdened. It has felt like I've been going against the tide, fighting my way through. This feeling isn't always present - in fact it's in my unconcious, just liiingering there. It doesn't ever show itself full on, its a lot sneakier than that...It absorbs a little happiness each moment, like a sponge; tainting the present. Don't get me wrong, I've had fun - lots of it...but the fun feels hollow, like the spark of life has been taken out of it. 

Told you it was deep...

Someone I admire often says "We are responsible for our own happiness" and over the last few weeks I 've been trying to do just that - take responsibility, make choices that lead towards happiness. But how? How am I supposed to know which choice to make? ... I can listen to other people's advice, think about what certain people would say - but all that leads to is more confusion...and if it goes wrong, who's to blame? Me or the advisor? I found myself shying out of social situations, choosing not to speak my mind. I lost confidence.

Luckily I noticed another feeling - another force in my unconcious, far more powerful than the lurky lingery wet sponge. That force is love...now before you cringe yourself to death, hear me out....

I call it a force because it guides, almost nudges you in the right direction. Little serendipitous coincidinks that happen every day...those little moments where you think "ey? thats wierd" Like when you think of someone you haven't talked to in ages then bump into them at the morrisons salad bar...or a word jumps out on a page for some reason, then for the next few days it seems to be all you read or hear....these little moments I'm sure happen to people all the time - whether we notice them or not is another story, and whether we choose to act on them is yet another. I've had a fair few of these moments in my life, and many on this trip...and they've led me to realise that Ive been fighting against love, swimming against the tide in hope of finding a distant, mysterious treasure. 

I've decided to make some changes; In 11 days I fly to Norway to stay with the love of my life, Stine - Ill pop the house-husband-hat on while she works and saves...Then return to Cambridge for a week over Christmas to see my family and close friends, back to Norway to spend some time planning The trip Stine and I are going on in February: We fly to Rio for carnivale and backpack our way south into Argentina and possibly Chile.

Although this wasn't what I had originally planned, I don't regret a thing: I needed to go on this trip to realise what I have...and Ive also had a lot of fun and met some awesome people...but as soon as I made these changes and booked all the flights I felt elated. The lurky sponge squeezed out all the happiness it had accrued over the last month and for the first time in a long while I felt genuinely happy. Deep down proper happy. I've chosen to go with love, and it feels pretty damn good.

Right, thats enough of all that........

Tomorrow morning I start the Maccu Pichu trek and will be back Thursday night - then Friday I board the Boliviahop bus towards La Paz, stopping at Lake Tititaka (somet like that) to visit some floating islands...A couple days mooching in La Paz and then off to Norway...

Ill bang out another couple blogs for Maccu and La Paz, postpone them over the Christmas period and then pick them back up in Feb.

Cheers x

Onto Cusco...

I departed Huacachina with mixed emotions; sad to leave such an awesome place, but keen to continue the adventure. With Maccu Pichu drawing closer I didn't look back.

As was custom, we stopped at the Pisco vinery tour - The second time for me as I blagged it a few days before. Same guide, same script, same jokes, same great quality Pisco and wines. Pisco is the Peruvian spirit....they absolutely love it over here - and I don't blame them. A favourite cocktail here is the Pisco sour, made with lime and egg white..its a bit of alriiiiiight.

Anyway, after a few shots we jumped back on the bus for the long old voyage to Arequipa (over night...yaaaay). I tried to do the old trick of placing all my stuff on the seat next to me, guaranteeing double space and a better sleep. I noticed an older English guy, who was quite hyper and full of dad jokes..he was looking for a seat near the girls he was flirting with - and mine was the closest. I stared straight out the window, hoping he'd move on....nnooooope. I slept for ten minute intervals, interrupted by the feel of his hairy arms against mine. Brilliant.

Got to Arequipa and stayed a couple days, mooching about and relaxing - not much to report here; there's a canyon tour but I didnt fancy it.

Within a few days I was back on the bus - this time, a 12 hour journey to Cusco, and my own double seat oooooosh.

There was a stop for lunch and another for the Nazca lines: shapes drawn in the ground by ancient people...now this sounds impressive, buuuut when you turn up and climb a 'viewing tower' which is really more like the climbing frame on cherry hinton rec, you can only make out little bits of the shapes. I was breathtaken, but only because it was windy.

On another stop, I picked up a baby sheep, Llama or Alpaca for a pic...not quite sure what it was but its a weeellll cuuuute pic.

Back onboard and to sleep - which didnt last long as I woke up with a splitting headache, and soon worked out I wasn't the only one. The drive to Cusco steadily climbs to a few thousand metres above sea level...the altitude causing poor circulation and sometimes some bad-man-illness. 

I visited the onboard Shaman, Mark. He isn't really a Shaman...he's an English animator...but he seemed to know what he was doing. He prescribed me Coca leaves with a calcium catyliser. You basically just chew it all and stick it between your gum and cheek - the alkaloids absorb into your bloodstream, sped up by the calcium. This, in turn,

thins

your blood and increases circulation, and therefore oxygen delivery....apparently. It worked....and yes, its legal.

The rest of the journey was broken up by movies: The Call, starring Halle Berry (not bad, had promise but lost its way towards the end, 6/10) and The Dictator (mingin, 2/10). Also a little drama: the driver decided to drive over a speed bump at a million miles per hour which sent Mark, who was laying on the back seat, up into

the air - smashing his head, then returning back to his seat - crushing his chest against the arm rest. He could'nt breathe properly for a bit, and some fuss was made...but he was ok.

Arrived in Cusco safe and sound. Cusco is the base city for Maccu Pichu, which Ill come to later.

I've been here a week now, so I'll just go for the highlights;

Walking tour: These are free, and last around 2 hours - the guy runs on tips as his living so they put in a good shift - explaining everything in detail. Did you know that Tupac was named after a Peruvian revolutionary? Did you? Nooooo neither did I. They took us to a musicians shop, where he played some quite beautiful little ditties with his ugly guitar made of an Armadillo. He then played a Pitbul + J-Lo number on a pipe. Was just as shit as the real thing.

The tour concluded in a bar, serving free Pisco sours and displaying all the pics their covert mate had been taking the way round. I looked either bored or serious in all the ones I was in so I didnt bother buying any.

After deliberating with the others over how much to give as a tip (not wanting to look tight - but at the same time not wanting to overspend) we agreed on something like 3 quid each and left.

Football: Another highlight of Cusco was going to watch the local team Calcieno play in a league match. Due to the fact it was an 11am kick off on a Wednesday, the 42,500 capacity stadium had about a thousand in it. Mark the Shaman and I arrived a little late so we bought a ticket off a tout - this tout wasn't some cockney geezer smoking a Camel - it was a little Peruvian lady. Still could'nt haggle her though. The original ticket booth was a tiny little square carbed out of the wall - the punters pop their cash in, then a little hand pops out with the tickets. Bit like a Flinsyones vending machine. The crowd were great, a barmy-army behind the goal kept the drums and chants going throughout. The game finished 1-1 with a red card for the home team's left back. They all looked knackered in the second half, the heat and altitude taking their toll. We got out of there as soon as the whistle went as we were starting to fry in the midday sun - Stopped in a market on the way home to buy traveller pants (kind of like Harem) and a wooly jumper for the evenings. I proper look the part now with my headband and pants...great look.

Had a cheeky couple nights out, and visited some very interesting bars owned by some strange characters - one being a rasta-man as high as the  sky above us.

I really like Cusco, a town with beautiful architecture and a rich history...but its time to move on...

My next adventure is the trek to Maccu Pichu, the top of my bucket list (alongside high-fiving a chimpanzee). There are many ways to get to Maccu Pichu: the most traditional being the 4 day Inca trail - 8 hours a day of walking , sleeping in tents etc. This does appeal to me, however you have to book months in advance and comes with a price tag of about 500 squids. Im choosing to do the Inka Jungle Trek - a 4 dayer that includes zip-lining, mountain biking, rafting and trekking. Absolutely buzzing my testicles off for it!

Huacachina, a desert oasis.

Huacachina is where I feel I properly arrrived on this trip - In lima I was bogged down by jet lag and the big city feeling. Paracas helped to shake that off, plus getting meet a load of cool people got me settled in. Huacachina is the first place where I felt it was all worth it.

So this is a desert oasis; a small lagoon with small hostels, bars and restaurants. The sand dunes around the outside are HUGE, they put Hemsby to shame...it takes about 20-30 minutes to climb to the top...but more of that later.

Once we'd arrived at the hostel, I was given the choice to either go sandboarding with the israeli's, but for an hour - or wait until the following day and join the Paracas group for 2 hours...easiest decision Id had to make so far. A bus was going to a wine tour nearby, so I fluttered my eyelashes at David (daveeeed) the ultra-camp tour guide, and he let me join in. Met a few new peeps, who's names escape me but I rememer there was one guy from Sheffield...anyway, they were all buzzin over the sandboarding, so I couldnt wait for that.

Later, after I was reunited with the group, we found out it was club night at the hostel. The biggest club in Huacachina was directly behind our room, in fact the bathroom 'window' was an opening into the club. Might as well have a few cerveza's and join the party. Francisco organised a meal and so e drinking games before the club opened, so we all entered the party in good spirits. We were pretty much the only foreigners in there, but the locals were friendly and loved a dance and took pics with us etc. The music was mainly latino/salsa/regaton type music with a few american club 'hits'. Most of the night is a bit of a blur but good fun was had by all.

The next morning, after very little sleep, I went and found a hammock and some fried chicken to get my head together...worked a charm...and it needed to, because at 4, it was time for sandboarding.

We were picked up outside the hostel by these beasty dune buggies, each one holding around 14 people...the driver, aptly named 'smiley' took us slowly to the edge of the oasis, paid his tax to get out and we were off....The guy drove like the devil! With the roar of the open engine and desert air blasting our faces we ragged it around, up and down the sand dunes at full speed. Smiley obviously loves his job, and took every opportunity to scare us shitless....he'd drift along the ridge of a dune before plummeting to the bottom, encouraged by our screams.   It wasnt for the feint-hearted, but I absolutely loved it...when we stopped on top of a dune for the first bit of sandboarding, the scenery sunk in. It was incredible, to one direction Ica, a city close to the oasis, with the Andean mountains as a back drop - in the other, sand...as far as the eye could see, with the various slopes and curves of the dunes...breathtaking.

But enough of that, it was time to plummet down the huge, steep dune on a board. The boards were similar to snowboards, slight fatter and with less strapping. Being completely inexperienced on the snow, I opted, along with the rest of the group to do the first one on the belly. Once the board was waxed and Id pushed fear aside, I got on and went for it. It was a rush: the pace was insane and I was down to the bottom in no time. Luckily we had a few more goes. I tried a couple standing up, I managed a few yards before stacking it onto my arse...and when I nearly popped a bollock I called it a day...well, for standing up anyway. Smiley took us to what couldve been the steepest dune around for one last go before ragging us over to a nice spot for the sunset. A good opportunity to take those photo's where it looks like you're jusr sat there looking out, thinking about life and someone manages to grab your camera, find the perfect angle and take several pics for you to choose from....yeeeeh you know the ones.

Got back, ate and slept.

The next day, after sleep deprivation and the excitement of the dunes, was a day for chillin. Sunbathing, swimming and eating...before a 30

minute trek up the dune for sunset. It looks easier than it actually was to climb, but the reward was something special...not to mention, you get to sprint down the dune so quickly your ears pop.

Peniltimate day in Huacachina, so Nick the Canadian and I thought we'd be a bit adventurous and trek over to a shanty town the other side of the massive dune. The night before we thought we'd seen a nice easy route around the dune...buuuut when we got there, it was even harder. So we climbed all the way along the edge of the dune to the very top. With every step, you lose half your energy pushing sand to the side...its fecking tiring to say the least...what with the heat an'all, i was a mess. We got there in the end and were thankful that it was an easy descent to the shanty town. We'd not seen any white people enter this place, so we took with us the essentials: camera, water and a little cash. As we entered the town, we were greeted by angry dogs and friendly humans...luckily the locals have good control over their canines so we were safe to venture further. The place was very similar to the shanty towns Id already seen, but was good to get a closer look and a feel for the place. We mooched about for a while, looking like absolute tourists, taking pics - much to the amusement of the local kids. "hello....gringo" a few of them said as we passed. We found a little shop and bought a couple of ice cold beers to celebrate the journey...wasn't long until a few of the kids came to have a look at the wierd little white men sat drinking out of plastic cups. A few dogs got involved too...im a lover of dogs, but I shit myself whenever I come accross one abroad. Especially as I didn't complete my Rabies vaccinations.  Nick showed them a lot of attention and was rewarded by being humped by one of them. 

The sun was setting, and the temperature plummeting, so we said our adioses and headed back up the dune. Night had fallen by the time we reached the summit so we stopped to check out the moonlit dunes and half lit cities...spectacular. Bombed it down the dune again - I remember thinking half way down "Im sprinting down a dune under the moonlight towards a desert oasis" Not a bad feeling at all.

That feeling wasn't present at 3 in the morning when I woke up needing the biggest poo ever (twice as big as the one on the plane). It felt like my entire digestive system was full of it. Legged it to the toilet; needless to say there was no toilet roll, ran into the ladies (of course there was toilet roll) back to the mens and AMEN, it was a godly affair. 

The next day it was time to leave Hicachina...definitely my favourite place so far. Now on to even bigger and better things.

Paracus

So I hopped on the Peruhop bus, eager to leave Lima and explore the more beautiful parts of Peru. I was joined by a group of Israelis from our hostel: a clique of 5 that had one guy who I was certain I wouldn't like. Its not a particularly 'cool' thing to look at someone and prejudge - but as soon as I saw this guy, a voice in my head went "Stay away from this knobhead" There was nothing I could consciously gain from his appearance that supported this, but maybe his body language or the way he moved sparked an alarm bell inside. I didn't act on it, just noticed it and then discarded it...

Anyway, we joined the half-filled bus and I took my window seat towards the back, placed my bag on the seat next to me and settled in for the journey. After a couple of pick-ups, the bus was nearly full - I could see a few couples, one of which I could sense was English (based on dress, skin, hair style etc) - I could hear Canadian, spanish and Irish accents and was happy to see that the average age, from what I could gather, was around 30. I had feared that the Peruhop would be a bit of a gap-yaar job with a bunch of pretencious douchebags, so this was positive.

First stop was the Peru sign in Chorallitos, a big old red thing saying 'Peru' placed in front of a Hollywood style CHORALLITOS sign. Not much to excite me here, although I did get talking to the couple, Edd and Sarah...they were English and very pleasant. 

I noticed, at one point, that Knobhead decided to lay on the grass with his hands behind his head...hmm...a little later, while standing with others, he put his head down and spat onto the concrete.

Back on the bus and up a cliff overlooking a very poor part of Lima - I could see, in the foreground, a huge shanty town - dusty half built houses, noone to be seen but plenty of dogs to be heard. In the background, the tall finished buildings of Miraflores...the contrast between rich and poor highlighted once again...our guide at the time, Paolo, was educating us on the history of everything, Im sure it was interesting but I wasn't really listening - I was distracted by his accent...He kept saying "so guuuuys...nice one...cheers.." with an irish twang. I learned later he works for two irish lads so it had obviously rubbed off...I tried to listen again but could hear the sound of water hittin the floor, coming from the bus...Wasnt sure what it was at first, but then realised someone was in the toilet and the piss was flowing straight through the bus and onto the road...I caught the eye of a girl had noticed as well and we started gigglin like little kids, trying to keep it in because Paolo was still talking....guess who it was in the toilet...knobheeeeeaaaaadd.

There was also a smaller Christ the Redeemer type statue, which overlooked the town...I've only seen the one in Rio in photo's, but Im pretty sure it puts this one to shame.

Stopped for lunch on a beach, deserted but for a long row of identical restaurants. The food was awesome...I tried Cerviche, a Peruvian speciality which is a selection of raw fish..I've never been a fan of Sushi or the like, but this was delicious. 

After lunch we dropped off Paolo and headed towards our stop for the night, Paracus...

Paracas is a strange little place, some of it modern, some of it proper rough...lots of travel shops but noone visiting them, like a place waiting for a convoy of buses filled with moneyspending tourists to come...but never does. Im sure they do ok, but the time we were there it was a bit if a ghost town. 

We all stood like school-kids on a trip, backpacks on and waiting to hear the sleeping arrangements. There were over 30 people for Francisco (our new guide) to organise so it was pretty stressful for him...The first 4-bed dorm would house the Isreali group, meaning one of them would have to join a different room. knobhead was not happy, and instead of waiting til we were all sorted, he kept interrupting Francisco, telling him there was five of them in their group. "there's only

four beds, so unless you want to share a bed one of you will have to join another room" Fran said, but knobhead continued to interupt and show his annoyance...I looked about to see how other people were reacting...some impatient shuffling and eyebrow raising. Finally, we were all given our groups - I was placed with a couple of Irish lads that I hadnt yet spoken to...as we walked to the room, one of them (think it was Jon) said in a thick irish accent "dat israeli guys a fuckin' dick like" ... 

Our room was basic to say the least - and Jon found out the toilet didnt flush after he laid a massive egg in there. We left our room to fester and rejoined the group for some lizza and drinks in a cool little reggae place. Got to know some people in the group a bit better...and remembered the usual backpacker conversational script Iearned on my last voyage...

"Where you from?"

"How long you been travelling?"

"Where did you start?"

"What route are you doing?"

"Where do you finish?"

Then you can move on to:

"So what do you do back home?"

Works 60% of the time, every time.

Anyway, after the meal we headed to a hostel that had a little halloween shindig going on. The people who were already there were all dressed up and obviously far more drunk than we were - so after a beer a few of us left them to it and got back to get some sleep....early start for the boat tour.

Up at 7am for a boat tour...Wasn't sure what to expect but it was included in the bus ticket. It was awesome in the end - The lot of us jumped on board a big old speed boat and set off to some islands about 15 mins away. Saw a ton of wildlife, including Sea lions, Pelicans, Penguins and starfish. The boat got us really close to the Sea Lions, where knobhead decided he'd get his go pro as close to the Sea Lions face as possible, it went mental and the guy nearly shat himself, much to the amusement of everyone else (who had all, by then, expressed their dislike for the guy). You know its bad when the local wildlife hate you.

The boat journey back to Paracus was cold and wet...I spent the time with my hood up and head down..not ideal but grabbed a coffee which sorted me right out. 

Had a walk about Paracus, and on closer inspection its actually a pretty little place: lots of little cafès and shops with friendly locals. Returned to the hostel to find out I was due to be on the bus that was about to leave, so had to run and grab my stuff and head out, leaving the rest behind (apart from the Israeli's, of course) 

The scenery changed from coastal to desert within minutes, and we were well on the way Huacachina...a desert oasis.

Note: Ive talked about knobhead quite a bit, but its the last time Ill mention him...Although he's clearly a twonk, I actually quite like havin knobheads in life: it unites the rest of us.