Subscribe in a readerPumped for Peru
Huacachina sandboarding
I was pumped for Peru. This was one of those all too rare overnight ports. Risa and I jumped off the Peace Boat at 7am and into a taxi. From the notoriously dodging port area we cruised into central Lima overtaking loaded people movers painted up like football team buses. Inconveniently there is no central bus terminal in Lima, so after getting it wrong once Risa fluently asked for the right directions. In no time we were charging down the dry and barren coastal desert watching a ripped DVD of Troy. After 4 1/2 hours we changed to a taxi in Ica, which took us to the doorstep of a little slice of paradise.
Huacachina Oasis
Huacachina is an oasis lying in a bowl of sand. Picaresque palm trees surround the small lake. With big smiles we pulled up a restaurant table beside the lake and ordered whatever we pleased…with cervecas of course. As we ate we watched a few dots inching up the surrounding dunes. We decided to rent snowboards and began our own climb of Mt Sanddune. It was hot and each step plugged into the sand. Maybe the more expensive idea of renting sand buggies would’ve been smarter. From the top of the dunes we looked down on one side to the oasis and on the other to a small town in the middle of the sandy nowhere. I wondered who on earth would want to live there. Then we strapped on our dodgy boards and went for it, laughing and riding on the soft sand. We couldn’t quite get the same speed as on snow, but the wipe-out sure was a lot softer!
On a tight schedule, we caught a bus up to Pisco. From the main road we caught a taxi into the dark streets to the door of our guesthouse. We sipped our Pisco Sours with our dinner and then waited for a guide to turn up to discuss the next day’s options. When he did, we booked in for a $35 trip to the Ballestos Islands next morning and private car around the Paracas national park. As we chatted to this friendly guy conversation turned to ‘the earthquake’.
Pisco Earthquake
What earthquake? Well, The one that knocked out the street lights, keeping us in the dark when we entered Pisco. On August 15 this year, Pisco was literally shaken to pieces by a 8.0 quake. Tragically, 430 people died in Pisco, 138 of them when the roof of the central San Clemente Cathedral of Pisco collapsed during mass. The clean up has been disaster for the survivors. Our guide told us $90 million was pledged by the international community but there is precious little to show for it. He is frustrated by the government response, and underneath I sensed a simmering anger. Turkey pledged some basic kit set houses to those who lost their home. He accuses the government of selling these back to the people - profiting from the disaster. Venezuela too offered food and housing but these were turned down by the Peruvian government. The reason? Charvez had put his face on the stickers of the fruit and in the corner of the houses. ‘The people don’t care who helps us’, our guide told us. ‘In a short time the fruit would be eaten and his face painted over anyway!’ The government of Peru did offer 20000 peso in compensation. Then the figure dropped to 10000 peso. Now, the people are still waiting for 2000 pesos ($600) in compensation. Significant amounts of international food and clothes aid also arrived. We were shocked to be told that when this arrives at ports in Lima the military have first pickings. What are left for the people who need it most are the scraps.
A car picked us up a 7:00am and in the beautiful morning light we saw the ugly extent of the damage. How lucky we were to have even slept with a roof over our heads last night. About 40% of the houses we passed were flat to the ground, another 40% had substantial visible damage. We passed the colonial style cathedral, a gaping hole where its roof had been. I saw one of the Turkish aid kitset shacks. Now, 4 months on from the day, we still saw people living in tents. There was no earth moving equipment. Rubble was stacked by hand in piles beside the road. Pisco, previously a thriving city of 400,000 was in ruin.
Ballestas Sea Lions
We arrived at the docks near the entrance of Paracas National Park. After a bit of hanging around, as is the Peruvian way, we boarded our small boat and were stunned to find… life jackets! (Now there’s something not easily found in Asia.) As we headed out to sea 3 pelicans swooped out from in front of the bow. A short way out we pulled up near the Paracas Peninsula to puzzle over El Candelabro, a giant geoglyph. Just like the famous Nasca lines further south, it is difficult to say much for certain about the Candelabra; who made it, when, why… I’m told that it isn’t even a depiction of a candelabrum, but a cactus. Nearing Las Islas Ballestas, ribbons of pelicans and boobies draped across the sky. Then we saw why the islands are known as the little Galapagos - these birds blanketed the islands and penguins dipped into the water. Before we could see them, we heard the roars of sea lions echoing from the caves. For much of the 19th and 20th centuries this delicate ecosystem was mined for guano, also known as bird shit, and valuable for its potassium and phosphorus. The taste of salt spray mixed with the pong of bird shit baked onto the rocks. Our boat gentled idled around rock stacks where throngs of sea lions sunbathed. In the water, sea lions lept and played close to our boat. Prohibited from landing, we kept a respectful distance from the colonies that lined the pebble beaches. These are their islands.
Paracas Red Beach
Back on shore we met our driver who would take us around Paracas National Park. He gave English his best shot but Risa needed to CC. The roads looked like tarmac but weren’t. We stopped to see that they were made only by compacting the salty earth. Risa couldn’t resist eating the road. The park’s landscape was unique; a dry, lunar surface, in places dusty white. We made a number of stops in the park including ‘The Cathedral’ a geographical sea cave feature destroyed in the earthquake (before pic). We walked the cliffs looking onto a red sand beach and stopped into the Laguna. Here too the famous seaside restaurants were destroyed and only 1 remained. We took our seafood platters and cervecas onto the idyllic and deserted beach and swam in the warm waters. Another little paradise. I asked our driver again about the flamingos that feed in the shallow waters of the park. They’re gone. The silt kicked up from the earthquake has muddied their feeding area.
Ever conscious of kisen limito we left the park, thanking our driver, and made for the bus station. For just shear fun, Peru was the best port so far and still I’m yet to experience the marvels of Machu Pichu and the Inca trail, the Nasca lines or the Andes!