As soon as you think things are gonna slow down and nothing will happen for a bit, it comes back at you with more.
The morning started out fairly simple. I drove about 300 miles from Lima to Nazca to do one of those things you have to do when you’re in Peru: fly over the Nazca lines. I get in at about 1PM, and I’m hopelessly going around to the airport, trying to find an agency that would take me. I go through 3 of them and all of them say I have to wait until tomorrow. Except this one called S.R.L. “When can I leave?” I ask. “RIGHT NOW!” They literally meant right then and there. I quickly use the restroom, and without even filling out the paperwork, quickly pay her about 130 soles and board the plane where two guys are patiently waiting for me.
The pilot’s name is Alex, and he gives us quick instructions. There are bags in case we get airsick. He will climb up and show us the lines from one side of the plane, then turn around to the other side. He will do this for all 12 symbols that we’re going to see today.
I was somewhat disappointed by the Nazca lines. Although there is that mystery factor, it’s somewhat hard to see and a lot smaller than I thought. Perhaps we were too far high up? The only one that was especially distinct because of the color of the sand it was drawn on was the hummingbird. That one was pretty cool.
I go and find a hotel down the road at around 2:30PM. I choose this one because it looks fairly new and well kept, and it has a parking lot. A guy immediately comes up to me and starts speaking in English. I ask him for a room for one night, and he says $50. Before I can respond, he says, ‘but for you, $45.’ I say that I only need the room for myself, no one else, can you do $30? And he says yes, yes he can.
I’m about to pay with my credit card to an attendant when I’m still not too happy about the price. $30 is about 3 days worth of stays at hostels that I’ve been at so far, and it’s way too much considering the kind of place it is. And so I ask her if she can do $20, and she looks disgruntled, but she agrees to it. Later, I ask her how much laundry is, and she says it won’t be done till tomorrow morning and it will cost me $10. Upset that this place is just trying too hard to cheat me out for my money, I tell her no and walk away.
I first go to a mechanic. His name’s Juan, and he changes my oil and fuel filters for me. It costs me about $25, but it’s not too bad considering all the oil he had to use up for the big engine. His wife stutters that I’m stupid for driving so far down by myself. I understand her and tell her that I’m not stupid, just a little crazy. She laughs and responds, just a little bit? We talk a bit about where I’m from and all that, and the dialogue seems to open it up a little bit. I felt somewhat sorry for her. Back in the states, who knows what kind of a man she would have ended up with, or what kind of job for that matter. Here, she was stuck with a mechanic, running the ‘cash register,’ checking oil and measuring them and filling them back up. She was obviously displaying the fact that this was nowhere near the life of her childhood dreams. Her sister comes around about this point in time, and she is quickly filled in about my story. The entire family of 8 or so is around my car by then, and desperately wants to try and buy my car for $2000. I say that I can’t, I must keep going on this journey. Her sister asks me in Spanish, “do you want a wife? Take me with you, nothing else is important.”
Later, I try in vain to find a laundry room, and when I do, it’s already closed by then. So I use the internet to let my family know that I’m ok, and I return to the Hotel. There are a couple ‘truck’ drivers there, one named Ollie, who is German and drives around mostly German people around Peru, and the other one is Raymond, who is British and drives around anyone who speaks English for that matter, having started in Rio, Brazil. They don’t know each other, and actually just happened to stay in the same place at the same time. They’re going in two different directions tomorrow.
I hadn’t seen Raymond, and I notice that Ollie’s already started to cook. So I haphazardly ask him if it’s ok if I join him and his party of some 10 German people for dinner. He doesn’t even flinch and tells me that it’s ok. I quickly introduce myself to the rest of the party and come back in 30 minutes in time for dinner.
They’re having some spaghetti sauce with noodles for dinner. They’ve got a salad with several different dressings. First question they ask me is, “red wine or white wine?” Jeez, just water, please. Then, with everyone at the table, we all hold our hands together, and say in unison something along the lines of France’s “Bonne Appetite,” but in Germain. Man, that was fun.
I hadn’t eaten anything all day, and their hospitality is amazing. They’re German, but quite a few of them speak English so well that I don’t have any trouble explaining what I’m doing and all. We talk about everything. Traveling, politics, movies, world economy, women… I tell everyone at the table that all of this is heaven to me, and everyone heartily laughs at how appreciative I am at their hospitality. One of them jokes around with me and tells me that the consequence of having dinner with them is for me to do all the dishes by myself! At the end of the meal, they pass around a glass of Pisco, which everyone sips out of and then ‘passes it to the next friend.’ It tasted like Vodka. One of them takes a picture of me, which reminds me to bring out my laptop to show them pictures of where I’ve been. One guy’s been through Mexico and Guatemala and loved it, so he smiles everytime a picture of Lake Atitlan or Palenque or Monte Alban came up.
There’s a predicament that I’ve been having. The direct route to Cuzco is apparently closed because of some political demonstration going on there. The locals are telling me that it’s ok if I get there past 8 PM. But the other tourists here have been telling me that similar but non related demonstrations have blocked some roads leading out of Cuzco to the south, and they waited till 3AM and had to turn around, and fly into Cuzco instead.
So the question is, risk the demonstration and drive about 9 hours to see if the road is closed or not? Or take the safer route around and take 2 full days to go to Cuzco? Today, I finally decided to take the 2 full days. If the direct road to Cuzco is indeed closed, then I would spend another day to get back to Nazca, and another 2 days on top of that to get around to Cuzco. It just wasn’t worth it. I was going to spend 3-4 days in Cuzco anyway, so I’ll have to cut it down to 2-3 or cut back on the trip down in Chile.