My first outward journey

After reading up on Peru I decided that I would do the southern route, and therefore Pisco was the next logical stop.  Pisco has a national park, Paracas, and from there you can go to the Island of Ballasta to see the sea lions.  I was already nervous about getting on the bus for my first venture out of the safe haven of The Point hostel in Lima, but i knew that i had to do it sooner rather than later.  And to be honest that is the easiest bit, when you know that you have a couple of hours at least until you are even close to your destination, you have a couple of hours relax time so I got myself comfortable, my bag pinned to me, constantly grasping the opening so much so that my knuckles were white after hearing so many stories of bag pinching and made my way to Pisco.

As the scenery turned from sand to sandier, and the trees slowing began to diminish my relax time was soon up and as the time commenced my pores began to opened and water a little, not from the heat of the approaching desert, but from the fact that soon I, Sophie Katherine Barrett would have to step off the bus into ...... the unknown.  Its funny because its similar to the feeling when you are approaching your bus stop at home, despite doing it every single day you always get up a bit before time, scramble through quickly, kicking a few ladies legs in the process, apologising profusely despite not caring at all just in case you miss the stop, worried that the driver who drops you off every day for the past 5 years will forget (well, to be fair they have done), or on the tube, packed in so tight that it is almost worth to be pictured with a note on it saying ‘STOP THIS CRUELTY’ like they do for the transport of sheep or something, yet people still squeeze passed when the lady on the intercom says ‘we are approaching Westminster’, and as we hold our tummies in, still trying to read the paper which is nose distance apart from your face, while someone pushes and shoves to get nearer to the door in the non-existent space, despite the 5 people passed also getting off, and ignoring the fact that the helpful intercom lady did actually say ‘approaching’, which has a definition in the oxford dictionary of ‘to come near or nearer to’ ridiculous isn’t it.  Now think of that and times it by a hundred, and then think that not only are you worried about missing your stop, you don’t even know where the stop is you are supposed to be missing!!!

My bum moved slowly to the edge of the seat until I was barely balancing as she strongly advised me that i was to be careful when i got off the bus

Anyway, you can now imagine the level of my developing anxiety what do we humans do, we ask for help.  Right looking around and the Peruvian gang on the bus, the old man with a stick and a sheep, the mother with 5 children, 3 of which are under 2 (possible?)mmm and old lady with no teeth, right then....

It was not all a loss the women inform of me was a young girl, and guest what she spoke English!!!!!!  Oh the shame.  I got over that quite quickly and asked the girl whether the place we had just stopped was Pisco, as the conductor doesn´t shout where the next stop, you are just supposed to know from the colour of the err sand?

All joking aside I was lucky that the Peruvian girl (who was visiting her boyfriend in Ica) spoke English and was very willing to practise the language.  That is one thing that you consistently find in Peru, the warmth of the people who are so willing to help you.  She noted that the stop was fast approaching so I gathered my things, and was ready to jump off any minute even if the bus was still moving (‘fast approaching’ = half an hour).  But after I confirmed that i was travelling alone the girl started to looked a little concerned, which made me feel a little on edge.  My bum moved slowly to the edge of the seat until I was barely balancing as she strongly advised me that i was to be careful when i got off the bus and not to let people ask to share the cab to the town with me, and to be wary of my bag as it didn´t stop off in the centre of Pisco but just outside on the main road.  No sooner had she said the she turned round to say that this was my stop..  Well she hadn’t told me any horrific stories of tourists being beaten (sorry mum) but she might as well had.  My heart started to beat faster than usual.  Now i don´t want to concern anyone, least not my parents but when i had a look around the dusty road and the few shacks surrounding it i wondered whether i had made the right decision to move out of my bubble.  I swear I saw tumble weird blowing past the tin sheds, one with a Nestle sign on the sign, the other with a Cocola one (ah conglomerates)  I persevered none the less, as things are not as bad as they seem, but i pulled the adjustments for my rucksack so tight that my arms lost circulation of blood and tried to look calm and collective as i got off the bus, a well travelled travler, (well I had the accent but the newly bought primark t’shirts just gave me away.’  Despite my worry that I would be left he for the night a taxi suddenly appeared like the night bus from Harry Potter, and in slow motion I flew to the door of the taxi, ‘Piiiscow’ I tried to say in a Spanish accent.  He said ‘of course darling, hop in’, only joking but there is probably only one place you want to go in this area.  As I got in the dust ridden 1970s car a lady with one baby strapped to her front and another on her back and 3 in tow walked briskly towards me, asking me to take her, I am ashamed that I was the one who walked to the other side of the road.  The thought of being mauled by Peruvians just wasn’t my idea of fun.  Exaggeration?

Despite of my apprehension all the way in the taxi journey, I made my way to Pisco...................................  We pulled up to the main square, hustle and bustle I saw a sign for a hotel so I made a run for it.  Couldn’t wait to get the bag of my back and the sign off my head saying ‘first time tourist, prime meat!’. 

I understand that I am being slightly dramatic at the moment but you must understand that I was extremely anxious on what seemed like my first day travelling.

Despite all this worry, travelling on your own certainly has its benefits and when you are still getting used to your surroundings your emotions are constantly on the move up and down.  But when you are on your own it feels even more liberating, realising  Even though i was a little concerned in making my first steps in the travelling world I had a real buzz from it.

Once i had booked into my hostel and booked the tour (which I had already read up on and decided was on the itinerary for the next day) after twenty minutes of sign language as no one in Pisco speaks English (and why would they), i went for a walk, thinking I would most definitely come across something in the bible that is the lonely planet, (something you use less and less as you travel, but which is at your side all the way when you begin).  Every time you go to a new place you have to start all over again and get your bearings.  You start to learn quickly where to go and where not to, the sudden silence when you turn a corner, and the darkness which commences, oh wait thats in movies, well you know what I mean, the buildings get shabbier, the road unpaved, and the atmosphere almost painfully isolated (but then Peru, and most definitely Pisco is a poor country/area).  But whats fab about these ex Spanish colonies is that they have the classic square/straight, so really you should never get lost!

After a meal out on my own (who else would I be with) looking down on the family orientated town of Pisco and a after a looooottt of contemplation time i retired to my hotel room ready for an early night so that i could be fresh for my day trip to the national park.

Today was the trip to the national park and the island of sea lions.  The trip to the Island of Ballasta was brilliant; I met up with two French guys who helped me understand what the tour guide was telling us about the history of the Island. as even though the tour guides speak English they speak so fast and roll their r so it can be difficult to understand, how ironic the native tongue speaker couldn’t understand a word but the foreigners could (ha and especially the French, no offence meant).  After a wet trip on the boat and sea lions galore we moved on to the tour of the National Park of Paracas which is in the desert and had some beautiful views, we even saw dolphins.  The national park was beautiful but it was maybe a bit too long.  When we think of a national park we think of tonnes of things to do and see and plenty of shops to buy colourful pencils and rubbers but here it is just untouched, which makes it even more beautiful than it already is.  Absolute nothingness, and on the sea bed stories which go with the worn shaped rocks.  The red sand, the beautifully blue sea splashing up the side of the rocks, then turn around and its just orange sand, beaming up at you with the reflextion of the sun making it even brighter, looking as soft as silk and as cushiony as snow.

On the tour i met up with two nurses, Katie, Ronney and Ronney´s boyfriend, Adam, who were from Canterbury of all the places.  They were fab, but i must admit that when they invited me to join them on our lunch break i didn´t know whether i could be bothered.  It takes a lot of effort initially meeting new people, you have to ask the same questions each time, what an ungrateful little fart.  Not that i am complaining, I managed to muster up the courage and go and say hi and what do you think happened...they ended up to be brilliant people and as soon as we got back to Pisco picking up my luggage and getting on a bus to the next town, or should I say village, what do you call a group of houses in the middle of the desert next to an oasis?  In Peru its Hucachina.