Cocaine, Guinee Pigs and Paranoia in Peru

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36 hours after leaving Rio we finally made it to Cusco in the heart of Peru.  To be fair the canceled flight was a blessing in disguise as our airline put us up overnight in a plush hotel.  The bellboy didn't quite know what to do with our oversized rucksacks.

Understandably, after so long traveling we just wanted to get some rest.  We ran out of the first hostel we were booked into after 20 minutes - it was that bad, so we scurried down the alleyway and stopped the night somewhere marginally better.  That place lasted until the (cold) electric shower nearly electrocuted Kieren to a crisp.    Our third place (in 18 hours) has suited us well since then - however the mud and straw construction (honestly) hasn't been rained on yet. 

The alleyway we mentioned earlier had an unusual design - a trough had been dug out along the length of the path.  Later that night it became apparent that we'd been walking through the men's public toilets.  In the interests of equality we stumbled upon the women's equivalent the following day complete with an (ancient) Inca, pants down, puddle below.

The first thing that hits you about Cusco is the thinness of the air.  At 11,000 feet above sea level we were instantly out of breath after even a short stroll and just two beers are enough to make you unsteady on your feet (C: sounds like a typical Kieren excuse to me!).  In fact, both of us to some extent, have suffered symptoms of altitude sickness including fatigue, dizziness and nausea.  Things didn't bode well for the 4 day Inca Trail we were due to start in under a week's time.  Our faith rested in a big bag of coke we'd bought from a local.  Strictly speaking it was a bag of cocoa leaves (supposed to combat altitude sickness) but Kieren´s hoping some chemistry research on the internet will prove fruitful in the future.  Seriously though, chewing cocoa leaves (as we have done) does supress appetite and numb the mouth - symptoms which are apparently the same as taking cocaine.  We'll let the readers of this page decide if it also makes you talk rubbish for hours on end. 

Shortly after recovering from altitude sickness Charlotte developed an ear infection.  Fortunately the anti malarial drugs we were carrying are antibiotics.  Unfortunately one of the side effects is paranoia.  As was quite clear after Charlotte had some vividly violent dreams and woke up thinking someone was trying to break into our room.  Her fears were obviously misguided however as the sight of a naked Kieren running at intruders has worked as an effective deterrent until now.

A week or so into our stay we had a bit of an English day.  In the early afternoon we met up with an English couple we'd talked to a few days before, had a few beers whilst watching the football (the natives had definitely sided with Barcelona) and finished off the day with a curry at what we're reliably told is the only curry house ran by Indians (Asian not Inca!) in the whole of Peru.  Quite frankly it was rubbish.  We miss the Cardamon.

Peru does have some interesting food of its own though.  One such dish is Guinee Pig.  The furry feast is served roasted whole in the oven.  The purpose of this is so you can tell it's not a rat.  If you can tell the difference between a rat and a guinee pig after it's been in the oven (1 hour, gas mark 5) then you should probably talk to your therapist about it before it's too late.  Anyway, having beady little eyes peeping out at you from beneath the chips isn't appeal to either of us.  So we opted for the next best thing - Guinee Pig Wonton!  Seriously, if your local Mr Wongs starts serving (he may do already - you just don't know it) - give it a go.

Guinee Pig Wonton aside, Peru's food is cheap and salty (* gag removed by Charlotte*).  We managed to get some home made veg soup, a main course of beef in a fruity sauce (served with rice and chips) and a mug of peppermint tea all for around 40p.  Not that our Spanish was good enough to tell what it was before we ordered but it was packed with locals so we decided to give it a go.

Anyway - back to Peru and the Inca Trail.

We arrived at the guide's offices to be told that , due to a landslide on the trail, we'd have to spend our third night, not sleeping under the starts high in the Andean Mountains but, instead, on the floor of a restaurant.  A few minutes later (our Spanish had improved by now to include swear words and threats) the company agreed to change its mind and agreed to a hotel stay.  We wish we hadn't bothered.

We were put into a a group with two experienced (French) hikers, one of whom was in the navy.  The French couple marched off quickly (The French Military haven't moved so fast since 1940) leaving us, out of breath, but lagging behind.  The next humiliation was soon to come.  The porters who had cooked for us, washed up, packed up and loaded our camping gear high upon their backs ran (literally ran) past us with nothing more than battered leather sandals on their feet.  After 5 hours of constant uphill trekking we arrived at our first campsite exhausted.  Our only defence was that we had marched for 5 hours, uphill, at times in the midday sun in high altitude with no rest breaks.  The campsite was a dump.  The toilets were so dirty they were unusable (even by Kieren's gutter level standards), there were no working showers (we bathed in the icy cold river) and the dining area was also populated by (alive)  guinee pigs and their waste.  The exhaustion, the disgusting conditions and the fact that the following day was 9 hours long was just too much unlike fun and we decided to quit whilst we were still able to.  The following morning we made our own way (the wimps way) to Machu Picchu.  We walked at our own pace, appreciated the stunning views and actually had time to take photographs.  We even had the trail to ourselves for most of the day apart from the occasional donkey, chicken or cowboy.  At Km 82 (the start of the trail) we took a bus (driven by a 14 year old) to Ollantaytambo and then a short motorcycle taxi (driven by a 13 year old) to the train station then the train (we didn't meet the driver) to Aguas Calientes (which has hot springs which we visited) at the foot of Machu Picchu.

We arrived to find the hotel that we were booked into had never heard of us so we had to find our own  accommodation.   We stumbled upon a hostel (which was more like a hotel) and fell in love with the room (but more so the views) immediately.  Upon hearing the price, Kieren feigned disgust and repeated "Ciquente Cinqo soles!" to Charlotte who just went "No" and started to walk off.  It's fair to say that Kieren could´ve just said the equivalent of 3 pence and Charlotte wouldn´t have known the difference.  However the owner took the bait and reduced her price accordingly.  We've perfected this act now - absolutely nothing in Peru is for sale at the original price.  We took the room and slept like logs.

To get to Machu Picchu we left our hostel at 5am to see the sunrise  over the sprawling site.  Unfortunately at 5am it was too dark to realise that it was a cloudy day.  Still, we sat at the top of the site in isolation and waited for the clouds beneath us to clear before the crowds arrived.  The photos we took describe the place better than we could ever do.  The one disappointing thing about Machu Picchu is that, due to erosion caused by tourists, the site is sinking in places by 2cm a year and may be closed in the near future.  

We recovered in time to go white water rafting a few days later.  Of course we ended up in the river!  The guide (with our help) purposely tipped the raft and we ended up floundering around for a while until we were dragged back into the boat (minus a flip flop or two).  Kieren's suing because he broke a nail in the commotion. 

Time for a massage.  Firstly we were offered a 'Massage and Marijuana' but we decided that we talk too much crap anyway.  And Kieren's attempts to have a 'Happy Finish Massage' were swiftly curtailed by Charlotte.

With just a few days left in Peru we made a 10 hour train journey (interrupted only by performers in scary ceremonial dress) which is frequently listed in the top 10 train journeys in the world by those in the know (What sort of person compiles these lists?).  Nice views or not - 10 hours is a long time on a train.  We arrived in Puno (our destination) to find a bustling town with push bike taxis, a police officer that directs traffic with a light  saber from Star Wars and a man who lends the mobile phone that´s chained to his waist to passers by and charges by the minute (stopwatch in hand).  We took a boat from Puno onto the Uros islands.  The 45+ islands, populated by indigenous people are completely man made.  The islanders weave together water reeds and stack layer upon layer until they are thick enough to live on.  The oldest of the islands are that well established that then reeds touch the base of the huge lake that spreads as far as Bolivia - all the others simply float around. 

Next stop was a trip to the island of Taquille.  The island is the second we've visited without cars - only this one doesn't have any dogs or police either.  The island is ruled by a council of 'elders' who (literally) crack the whip to those who don't follow the three rules:  No stealing, No Lying, Don´t be lazy (K:  Looks as if it could be open to abuse to be honest).  No-one's been whipped for 3 or 4 years.

We're on our way out of Peru.  3 weeks has been too long.  The people who aren´t trying to sell you something are nice (if a bit short), the food (apart from the guinee pig) is amongst the worst we've tasted (including Big John's just before closing time) and the place is surprisingly easy to get around.  The fact is though, if you're not into hiking, history or haggling there isn't that much going for it.

Next stop however is Cuba where we're going to take the advice of the Israeli we met on this trip: 

Drink rum, smoke cigars and learn how to Samba!