emotionalmarkup

Mountains, lakes, deserts, jungles, beaches, monkeys and salmonella. I’ve witnessed the beauty and viciousness of all these things and more in just over four weeks of travelling around Peru and parts of Bolivia; and the feeling I’m left with, at four days to go, is one of awe at the diversity of the land and its peoples, and appreciation of over-the-counter antibiotics.

There’s not much to dislike about Peru. Sure, its economic compass is pointed hard at the tourism dollar and toilet paper is a rare commodity, however the eternal sheet of pure blue sky laid over an almost alien landscape rips you so far out of normality that cannot help but be impressed.

In a mere three days trekking the Colca Canyon near Arequipa we passed deserts, roaring fresh water rivers, valleys inhabited by condors, and fields of coca and cacti sprayed across the faces of jagged mountains.

Even the most insolent of backpacker didn’t fail to utter at least one obscenity in praise of the views.

At regular intervals our guide, Pepe, stopped us on the trail to inspect a traditional medicinal plant or edible fruit. Other times he called a halt simply to provide the sweating gringos with some relief from the sun and altitude. As we sat panting and wheezing, peculiarly in the shadow of a tall eucalypt, donkeys and mules pranced up the mountain leaving trails of shit in their wake, as if to impress upon us the ease with which they navigated the narrow precipices. What they didn’t realise was that, all the time, we gringos were plotting ways to turn them into kebabs having heard stories of the gloriousness of their barbequed hides.

We suffered more at the proboscises of the local midgies on the trail to Macchu Picchu. Whether we were swimming in hot springs, screaming down the mountain on a bike or trying to harvest a few minutes sleep in a mud hut on the mountain, their relentless attacks kept us all on edge. The daily debate was one over whether one should apply insect repellent before or after sunblock - controlled experiments failed to provide a conclusive answer.

So far, Peru has pushed the limits of my body: cold, heat, altitude, water contamination, vertigo, hunger and fatigue, all have left me wondering why anyone would pay to suffer this way when package deals to the Greek islands taunt you from every travel agent’s window. But I think that at the end of it all is the reward of experience and peace. And I know, although it’s not immediately evident, that I’m having the best time in a long time.

The first experience I had after landing in Lima was to stroll out to the highway, backpack slung around my shoulders, and attempt to get into town the ‘unorthodox way’.

To follow the safest and easiest method - that is, to hire a green taxi from the airport to Miraflores for some $20USD - was recommended by most travellers, guidebooks and locals. However the prospect of stumbling around a six lane highway off the back of a 20 hour flight looking for a bus or an unlicensed cab seemed rather a good idea at the time.

I’d been told that buses were the cheapest (30 US cents) and most interesting method of transport. If by interesting they meant ancient, dilapidated and more crowded than the Victoria line at 8:45 on a Monday morning, then they were right. Besides the fact that it would have been more likely to grow wings and fly to Venus than to fit myself and my backpack on one of those mini-buses, I severely doubted their ability to carry me safely throughout the 30 minute journey. So I hailed down a cab, which I estimated had less internal rust damage than the others that were parked at the bus stop.

“How much to Miraflores?” I asked, trying not to sound too gringo.

The driver quoted a price half of what one would pay from an official cab at the airport, so I agreed and jumped in, ready to relax and survey my surroundings for future reference.

While most vehicles appear run down, missing parts or altogether not roadworthy, one feature is always in perfect working condition: car horns provide a ceaseless and polyphonic cacophony throughout the entire city and are used both to communicate to other road users your emotional state and to just randomly startle pedestrians and your passengers.

Once you know the system, getting around Lima is easy and insanely cheap. If you take one of the hundreds of buses or mini-buses that seem to patrol every main road you pay around 30 to 40 cents to go just about anywhere in the city. They’re not the fastest means of transport but they’d have to be the most fun. You can stand at any corner, hail one down (assuming you know where you’re going) and jump straight in to what seems like a mobile salsa club. The paint jobs and models of each bus are as eclectic as the latin music which pumps from its stereo. Sadly, their adherence to the rules of the road is just as diverse. But the locals seem to be relaxed and have no problem with the system.

When your nerves finally get the better of you the local taxis are also great value. From Lima central to Miraflores or Barranco - two of the coastal towns south of the city - it will probably cost around $1.50. Which will leave you just enough funds to afford a set menu of ceviche, roast chicken and chica morada for $2.