Since my last communication with you I have logged on over 40 hours of bus travel time, covering territory between Arequipa in Southern Peru and Quito in north central Ecuador. Between bus rides I flew over the famed Nasca Lines in Peru's desert, sandboarded down dramatic sand dunes near Lima, managed to cross the Peru/Ecuador border relatively unscathed, and arrived safely two days before Christmas in the ancient Inca city of Quito at an altitude of 2850 metres.
As I prepared myself in Arequipa for my first long distance bus ride up Peru's rugged coastline, I felt like I was preparing to enter a lion's den instead of a bus station. Apparently backpack slashing is a popular pastime in these places, so I packed my most important items deep inside my pack. With my Servas host's help, the other security issue of getting a registered (and therefore safe) taxi to get me there was solved. The bus station seemed tame and orderly, and my bus was clean and well equipped. This convinced me that travelling by bus was going to be a relatively pleasant way to at least get up and down the coast of Peru.
The Pan American Highway, with its dotted yellow lines and well paved surface, was in stark contrast to the unpaved roads I experienced between Arequipa and Colca Canyon a couple of days before and would experience again a few days later in the highlands of Ecuador. Giant vultures hugged the jagged, volcanic mountains that shot up dramatically on our right. On the left the surf crashed in crystal clear waters. At times I felt as if we were cruising along the southern California coast but was brought back to reality whenever we stopped at a roadside restaurant with its primitive bathrooms.
During the first leg of this journey I befriended a woman from Denmark who was sitting in front of me and who turned out to be a Servas traveller. This was the beginning of my friendship with Ann Marie and her nine year old son Nicholas which culminated in a delightful visit by them one evening three days later in the home of my Lima Servas host, Fernando.
The town of Nasca is 619 metres above sea level in a green valley surrounded by mountains. This puts it above any fog that may drift in from the sea causing it to be very hot and dry. In addition to the attraction of the Nasca Lines are the pre-Inca cemeteries of mummies encased in their own hair and cloth that the dry, humidity-free climate has preserved perfectly. Ann Marie, Nicholas, Jo from Holland, and myself booked a five passenger propeller plane for the half-hour flight over the Lines for the next morning. The price was US$30 per person.
Our plane circled over each piece of art in the desert sand below - a humming bird, a spider, a condor, a monkey, a dog, two hands, a killer whale, and more. As I gazed in awe at the drawings, I began to understand why their presence has puzzled scholars since their discovery 70 years ago. Their sheer size (one bird spanned over 100 meters) made me think the explanations ranging from the presence of extra terrestrials to hot air balloons during that pre-Inca time (dating from 400BC) were not so extreme.
A (land-based) cemetery tour which followed this display added even more mystery to the area. Well preserved mummies of all sizes sat facing east deep in earthen desert pits which were formed of mud bricks. Their hollow faces seemed complacent as if to tell the viewer that exposure to the dry desert air for centuries didn't bother them.
The next day a five-hour bus ride continuing up the coast brought the four of us to the dunes in the oasis town of Huacachina. Jo and I checked into a room together in a relatively deserted, grand old hotel on the waterfront, which had seen better days, adding to its appeal. Sandboarding was the order of the day in this resort town. As I hiked up the edge of a steep dune that afternoon using a sandboard as a crutch, I had visions of my Machu Picchu trek. My progress was a bit different this time - it was one step forward and ½ a step backwards. My footprints were quickly covered by the wind. As I flew down a dune sitting on my sandboard, sand engulfed me getting into my shoes, up my back and into my mouth (which was open as I was screaming). Great fun.
During this time Jo and I bonded as travellers often do when they share intense travel time together. She was just ending her first solo journey abroad of three months in South America when I met her. As Ann Marie, Nicholas and I took off together for Lima, we said our fond farewells to her. I felt especially sad because I knew I would have the same empty feeling when I had to say good bye to Ann Marie and her son a couple of days later. At that moment it struck me how all of our experiences together had been as natural as nature - we came together as naturally as individual streams flowing into a river, united temporarily, only to be separated later as a river flows into the ocean.
Following a couple of nights in Lima, I continued northward through mostly desert terrain to Peru's northern border. It was barely dawn when we passed farmers working in the fields and villagers riding horses. Street markets bustled. Life there unabashedly rose and, I presumed, set with the sun.
Amidst the cacophony of the street market on the Ecuadorian side of the border I heard shouts from the street side moneychangers, "Sucres, soles, dollars" (sucres are Ecuadorian currency, soles are Peruvian). They had a decidedly different flair than moneychangers in Lima whose identifying mark was a large dollar sign on the back of their vests. Here it was a substantial-looking briefcase sitting perched on their laps as they sat calmly in chairs along the main street of the border town. I felt suddenly safer as I realized what a target these briefcase-toting men were, much more of a target than a camera-toting tourist like myself.
From the border, bone-jarring roads led us through Ecuador's central highlands. Gone was the smooth Pan American highway and stifling heat. The rains came with the cold. I could almost touch the mammoth leaves of the banana trees. Clouds lifted with enough time for me to take in breathtaking views of rolling hills and green farmland dotted with pine trees where cows and sheep grazed. We passed fruit stands filled with mangos, pineapples, grapes, bananas, coconuts, and watermelons. Tough-looking Andean women often boarded our bus loaded with hot corn-on-the-cob and fresh local cheese. I never resisted. Following a night in the beautiful colonial mountain town of Cuenca I continued on to Quito. Only nine more hours to go! I felt like I was running a marathon in which I would never give up until I reached the finish line.
I finally arrived at my destination at 11pm that night. I was grateful that I had committed to Martha I would be in Quito by Christmas when she and a mutual friend of ours, Chuck Wattles, will arrive to travel with me for a couple of weeks. It gave me the fortitude it took to make the long journey to this well-preserved colonial city.
The signs of Christmas are in the air everywhere. Pedestrian streets are packed with shoppers, decorated Christmas trees abound in commercial places, Santa Clauses pass out promotional literature to passing traffic, nativity scenes complete with flashing coloured lights grace the interior of the churches and cathedrals, processions of people in costumes depicting angels and kings follow those dressed as Mary and Joseph, and "Felix Navidad" (Merry Christmas) is written on store windows and sung on the radio repeatedly. The financial crisis Ecuador is going through seems to be masked by the Christmas spirit.
The US Embassy in Quito has just reopened after being closed for a few days due to terrorist threats. Now if we can manage to keep robbers and thieves at bay (through my experience in Peru, especially with the children, I think I have figured out how to do this), and volcanoes don't erupt in our path, our adventures in Ecuador should be fruitful.
As I sign off I can hear someone beside me in the Internet cafe using a phone attached to a computer for a long distance call to the States, a popular use for the Internet here in Quito. The lack of privacy doesn't seem to bother anybody as the cost savings makes up for it.
Reprinted from Merrilee's South American Travel Odyssey available at http://www.iatravel.com/tipssamerica.htm
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