Eat Me, Lima

I'd never intended this blog to be all about food. I realise it's a pretty constant theme, and I've scoffed my way through various local cuisines on this trip.. delicious Khmer Amok in Phnom Penh.. amazing street food in Kuala Lumpur.. llama burgers in Bolivia.. McDonalds in Australia.. But I seriously hadn't lived until I got to Lima.

Let's start with the ceviche. Hunks of cold cooked fish, served with huge bits of corn, marinated in a tangy lime and chilli something.. made my taste buds explode (Grace - the Space Raider pain doesn't even come close). Seafood jalea, baby octopus, squid, fusion fried rice, tacu tacu a la chorillana, causa de congrejo.. all washed down with the purple corn juice of Peru, chicha. With every mouthful I got one step closer to actually moving to Lima and eating myself to death.

There was no stopping us. We couldn't go back. We were like addicts jonesing for our next hit. The only way is up, so we booked into Astrid y Gaston for lunch, which unbeknownst to us had that very day been voted the 35th best restaurant in the world. The mixed ceviche, peking style guinea pig (we wrapped it up like crispy duck.. and it really DOES taste like chicken), swordfish, baby goat and a ridiculous 'punished apple' desert made me want to weep.

I blew my Brazil budget but I didn't care as I sipped on the complimentary champers and nibbled on the petit fours given to us to celebrate their new world ranking. Sure beats pasta pesto surprise.

After a stroll through a magic water fountain park and a quick visit to the beautiful Lorca Gallery, with a little excursion to see some pre-Colombian porn in their famous Erotic Gallery, I waved goodbye to my buddies (it's been totes emoshe you trippers xoxo) and Peru and hopped on the plane with my excess belly baggage headed for my final country.. BRAZIL!

White Lines and the Oasis

Nazca was great - mainly for the 35 minutes we flew over it. The town itself is deadsville in the desert, so we took a light aircraft over the famous 'Nazca lines' which made me feel violently ill but was nonetheless very impressive. I've never been in such a small, comedy plane and hopefully never will be again, but to see the glyphs from overhead was really cool. I watched the National Geographic documentary on loop in the "airport" waiting lounge, explaining their supposed origin. But whatevs, the aliens totally did them.

Hopping out of Nazca as quickly as we'd arrived, we took a random night in Huacachina, an oasis in the middle of the desert near to Ica, and on the way to Lima (it's the one on the back of the 50 soles note). I'd planned on going straight to Lima, but so glad I stopped here - it actually turned out to be one of my highlights. I honestly thought oasises (oases?) only existed in cartoons.

We arrived at 'Desert Nights' hostel, and immediately got into a sand buggy for a hilarious white knuckle rollercoaster ride through the desert. We then essentially threw ourselves down 200 foot high hills of sand on a plank of wood. I proclaimed at each drop (they were getting bigger and bigger) that 'I'd sit this one out' but found myself screaming down each one louder and louder. I'm still picking sand out of unmentionable crevices. SO. MUCH. FUN. We watched the most beautiful sunset and partied the night away in the dunes before heading on to our final destination, Lima - capital of Peru and capital of my big fat belly.

Let's all live in Cusco!

I felt like I'd moved to Cusco. Just packed up and moved into my hostel bunk for all eternity. I was feeling better in health, but pretty gutted about missing out on the trek, so I threw myself into being a tommy tourist for a few days.

I fully realise I'm a disgusting travelling cliche, but I was in the middle of Che Guevara's The Motorcycle Diaries, and I kind of think Che himself explains Cusco best. So I'll let him do the talking.

"There are two or three Cuscos.. or it's better to say two or three ways the city can be summarised. Cusco invites you to become a warrior, and to defend, club in hand, the freedom and the life of the Inca. It invites you to be a hesitant tourist, to pass over things superficially and to relax into the beauty beneath a leaden winter sky. 

And yet another Cusco.. a vibrant city whose monuments bear witness to the formidable courage of the warriors who conquered the region in the name of Spain, the Cusco to be found in museums and libraries, in the church facades and in the clear, sharp features of the white chiefs who even today feel pride in the conquest. This is the Cusco asking you to pull on your armour, and, mounted on the ample back of a powerful horse, cleave a path through the defenseless flesh of a naked Indian flock whose human wall collapses and disappears beneath the four hooves of the galloping beast.."

Okay, so I wasn't exactly speeding through the streets on the back of a horse mowing down the indigenous people, but I kind of get what he's saying. Cusco is all at once polluted, yet beautiful and picturesque, historical and yet with a dirty great Starbucks in the middle of the main square. Also, it was totally FREEZING and I was dying to get to somewhere warm - and I'd say there was a fourth Cusco, too. Gringos-Get-Pissed-Cusco.

But after being Che's 'tourist' for a few days, I hopped in a collectivo to Ollantaytambo, where I finally boarded the Machu Picchu Express. It was all very Jurassic Park, a tourist filled train with a perspex roof and a running commentary of which bit of the jungle we were in. I arrived in the strange, damp town of Aguas Calientes, Machu Picchu's base camp, to catch up with the rest of my group who were exhausted from the 83km trek. However refreshed and raring to go I was, I still managed to sleep through the 4am alarm call but luckily was woken in time to join the group for the early start to catch the sunrise at the ruins.

The trek up the steps was exausting, but we were amongst the first groups to arrive and as the light ascended behind the surrounding mountains, the first picture-postcard, money shot view was pretty spectacular. Take it away, Che:

"Here we found the pure expression of the most powerful race in the Americas.. replete with immensely evocative treasures.. the spectacular landscape circling the fortress supplies an essential backdrop, inspiring dreamers to wander its ruins for the sake of it.."

As the sun continued to rise, more tourists poured in so after a walk through the ruins, we climbed to the top of Wayna Picchu, the pointy mountain you see in all the postcards, to get the opposite view. I had a total sense of wonder and achievement, even if I did cheat and take the train, and we soaked up the sun, played with the llamas and enjoyed the views. I definitely felt like a dreamer.

Cusco still had a few days of fun left in it, but after a mini-Bolivia reunion, it was time to leave this weird and, all in all, wonderful place.