A Treatment of a Typical Night Out in Arequipa

...it starts out with a cheap cervesa in one of the countless restaurants and bars here. A beer costing no more than $2 and surprisingly malty in taste. Accompanied by a set menu meal consisting of crema(soup) and a main course for the princely sum of $3. And then its time to move, negotiating the street vendors selling anything from cigarettes to sunglasses and always disgruntled when you turn them down. A brisk walk will always bring you past a number of bars all with happy hours. Las Bruhas or Swedish Avenue have 3 of any cocktails for $3 resulting in a rosey glow. A bit of small talk degenerating into the foulest depths of the human psyche and back again. Until someone, and this is a certainty clambers on top of the nearest bar, aided with encouragement from the staff and does an uncertain jig until (a) he/she falls on their face or (b) he/she suffers a moment of clarity and realises the precariousness of their present position. Some slurred words will then agree the best course of action is a few more drinks in local club, Daddy O´s(con Karaoke, Dj´s and live music), the Forum(fully equiped with beds and water feature) or De Ja Vu(Lonely Planet hangout, ie too expensive). And this is where the night gets complicated.
Locals are invariably attracted to travellers. I don´t know why, we look like crap, smell of moth balls, (if we are lucky), and are generally too drunk to stand unaided. Men will be attacked by ferocious women who pound their ample arses into their crotches and swing the drunk lout across the room. Women will be accosted by men who speak two lines of English poetry and think it is enough to get them into bed. (Sadly it is sometimes.) It is necessary to stay in a group at this stage but it never works as we are all too drunk, being seperated by the locals into manageable groups or moreover than not alone. It is at this stage you make the choice. Dance badly to raggaton or try to slowly slip away from the clutches of a vulture.
If escape is possible you are generally the target for the night vendors who sell chocolate, fags, water, and other munchies. But nothing savoury. As you cross the Plaza De Armas it is necessary to avoid the chocolate selling Santa, who will chase you back to your hostel. Where finally you can watch the sun rise from your rooftop terrace, or just fall asleep.
...Time to burn your LONELY PLANETS, they are misinformed, with questionable itinereries and they strangely enough push the prices up. Any publication that gives its reporters three weeks to research a country has to be bad. Come on you know I´m right, how many times have you stood outside an abandoned building expecting to see a hostel? To prove this I intend to travel Ireland next year with the Lonely Planet to see how accurate it really is. Challenge, duel.
All are welcome.
Heading to Cuzco on Monday, protests permitting.

Civil Disobedience in Arequipa (And A Pigeon Tale)

.........for seven days now they have come and voiced their distrust of the Peruvian government. Clogging the arteries surrounding the Plaza De Armas, chanting solidarity songs, linking arms in the face of heavily armed riot police who stand with disinterest in the shelter of volcanic archways. Teachers, communists, children, city workers and civil servants. Passion bursts from their lungs as effigies burn and blacken the white buildings of this beautiful city. There have been reports of riots in the outer barrios as teenagers full of testosterone go too far and use the police for target practice. In the centre it is calm at night and safe. A bubble of touristy goodness. I am stuck here. Buses are not running and hotels are full with people yearning to leave. But this is being repeated all over Peru. It is possible a revolution is starting.,,,,,......
......sitting watching the protestors chant in a merry mood I was accosted by a family who sat beside me on a park bench. A picture of wholesome fun they began to feed the pigeons with a huge bag of grain bought from a jolly woman for 25 cent. Pigeons are not a shy creature and coupled with this they are extraordinarily stupid. The pigeons clambered on the family greedily pecking at the grain and emptying their excrement on them. I shifted uneasily on the bench and put my book into my bag when suddenly a ratty feathered fecker landed on my cabezza(head). I shudderred with disgust and the fiend fluttered of, as did I with one thing going through my brains, Pigeons are surprisingly heavy little things.......
Too much rum, too much rum, rum too much, only 2yos 30 for a bottle. DANGEROUS

A Legend,EarthQuakes! and Randy Nuns in the White City

........a rich nun came to Arequipa from Spain along with a carefully selected group of lower ranking nuns from wealthy families. They proceeded to build up the beautiful convent of Santa Catalina. A town within the city. White brick painted over with ocre, red, yellow and sky blue. As I walked through this convent I could almost taste the colours. Then the hedonistic lifestyle of the nuns was explained to me by a bearded old man. The nuns each had many servants and were not afraid to throw a party or two each week. In such decadent parties homosexuality was reported aswell as the taking of copius amounts of opiates. This continued unabashed for 400 years until a strict Dominican nun arrived and washed their collective mouth out with holy water. She then proceeded to close the order to the outside world for the next 100 years.....dirty nuns...etc
.........I sat alone in the TV room recovering from a particularly intense couple of days involving 3 nightclubs, one bottle of rum, a changing of a hostel, a lot of free Pisco (local shot with after effect of Tequila, ie. it gets you drunk) 3 games of giant jenga, a conversation with a legend(see below) and explosive indigestion. I was straining to keep my peepers open as the credits rolled on a non descript film. I reached forward to suck down some water from my glass when the chair jumped beneath me. I woke instantly and glared as all the glasses shimmied on the mantel piece and realised with some distress the earth was shaking. Cool I thought as I wobbled to bed and gazed out momentarily at the 3 volcanoes creeping up behind the city........
.........she sat at a table, eyes locked in an eternal struggle with sleep. I jumped into the hammock beside her. "Still drinking are ya?" She slurred something beautiful from her mouth, not a word but a sound. Her lips moved, I stared and caught "40 hours" from in between hic-cups, belches and burps. I knew this already. I had been out the night before with this slim waif like woman. Her frame could fit behind a lamppost comfortably. She smilled while drunkenly sticking her fingers up at me. She stood and walked around a swimming pool to prove her sobriety. She seemed ok while walking, it was when she talked that trouble started. I walked away and came back 4 hours later. She was still there. All swagger and wobble. The girl is a legend, the girl is a stereotype, the girl is Irish, the girl will remain un-named....
Adios mi amigos. Estoy en Arequipa ahora y estudio Español por dos semanas aci. Depues Voy a salir a Cuzco.

Penguins, Fatso´s and The Nazca Lines

...Pisco, the Spanish for dump. A sordid little town ran by the many feral dogs that inhabit it´s corners. They run in packs, go wild when in heat and threaten anyone who walks near. Their shagginess is only matched by the towns dirt. It smells and should never be visited except for......PERU´S FATTEST MAN and the ever straight laced HUMBOLDT PENGUINS. ,..... on with the tale........ the guide herded us into two tired columns. Hundreds of gringos stood hunched over with cold. After 30 minutes we were allowed on the good boat `Rocket Ship` and sped off to the Ballestos Islands. These islnds are covered in Guana. Thats a nice term for bird shit. And man do the smell. There is so much shit the entire surface of the island is white. The boat float up to the side of the islands. And make no mistake even if they smell like shit they are beautiful. Giant pink, purple rocks jutting out of the sea with natural arches and caves. The noble waddling Humboldt penguins live here are provided a show. Well they just stood there. Then there was the Peruvian Boobie and star fish, sea urchins and sea lions. All very fishy so far. Until we hit the main land again and a shadow cast down on the beach. From the shadow a loud bellow of directions came. Peru´s fattest man sat straining the towns flood defences. He was huge...... ....the sand shone in reds, purples and pinks. Giant sand dunes about 40 metres in height swept all around. Waves crashed against brittle cliffs, creating the Cathedral. Giant stacks out in the sea that once were linked to shore. Further up the coast sand turned red. And a crimson beach stretched for 5 km in an arch........ ....half the fun of doing the Nazca lines is the flight. A tiny 4 man plane that a draft could make wobble going up into the sky and doing loop the loops around gigantic lines in the sand. The plane I was on was equipped with sick bags that held half a litre of liquid. I settled in my seat and we took off. I couldn´t help noticing a strong draught coming in the door. But ignored it. Then the awe struck. These truly are amazing images. I won´t even try to explain them. Just come here and do it yourselves.... CHECK OUT THE BALLYMUN APPRECIATION SOCIETY ON FACEBOOK

Huaraz Has Altitude

And now for some inner dialogue....right, how high are we? 3300 metres. Ok lets go for a walk. Screw this acclimatising crack. Did your nose bleed today? Mine had hard blood in it. Anyway lets do this thing. How are we getting there. Taxi fine.......here we are now, at the start. Up the hill? Fine. Man I´ve only walked for a minute and I´m bolloxed. What the hell is that bull doing? He´s doing it to another bull! It´s ok the local woman is hitting him now. ¿Tiene caramillo? Man these kids know how to milk a backpacker. I thought they were speaking Quechua. (Local language of indigienous people). Which path Hugo? Oh the one that goes up, what a surprise. Snow capped rugged peaks look damn fine. This ridge is cool, little ant people down below and jagged rocks all around. That old woman is gaining on me. She´s like a mountain goat, and she´s passing me, not sucking in air or sweating, I must look like a monster to her. And she´s carrying a stack of firewood. Getting headaches now and my hands have turned purple and swollen. Weird shit. Oh we´ve reached the carpark. How far? 2km up? No thanks I´m done. I´m going to roll downhill instead........
......leaving Huaraz was easy. The climate is excellent during the day and freezing at night. I needed stability. After saying adios to Hugo, Gen, Stacey and David, I set out to Lima on a stunning bus ride. The bus zig zagged down from 3300metres to sea level in a little under 8 hours. From frosted mountains through wide open pasture valleys a light shade of green. The descent went through basalt rock formations and ramshackle settlements hugging the road. Mountains changed from green to brown as the desert took hold of the landscape. The only bit of green was stuck to a river meandering below. A long oasis snake which accompanied the bus to the sea. Then it became apparent how lonely this green snake was. It is completely surrounded by the desert. The only colours apart from green and brown were the drying vegetables in the sun bringing out vivid reds, yellows and greens. Day trips are sometimes better.........
Lima welcomed me with neon signs and concrete.
Adios

The Warrior Duck and Other Tales

......the battle of the sand was a legendary battle which took place in the town of Mancora, Peru. Mancora is set on the Pacific surrounded by a vast desert with sandy mountains hemming it in along the coast. It was in this sleepy seaside hamlet the great war of the sand was enacted between a small but powerful Irish army and an equally small but weak Dutch one. The Irish in victorious celebration had to be reminded after a night on the rum and coke what had happened on the beachy battleground. Mancora, not much to do but its hot, sandy and full of cheap rum......
Night buses are a pain in the arse, literally. They are made even worse when people open the windoiws in the middle of the night to cool down. These people should just take of a jacket instead of freezing my balls off. It was after one such trip I found myself in Trujillo. A functional town with a serene central park. The skies where grey so we (2 Dutch, 2 Quebecuers) fled to Huanchaco. The sky was grey there too. But we stayed, wraqpped up in our winter clothes. This is the site of two ancient sites. Chan Chan and Huaca del Sol y de la Luna. Both spectacular and in the desert. Bald dogs roam the sites and angry unofficial guides try to scam money off you but it is worth it just to see the fantastic murals at Huaca de la Luna. In a word it is stunning. I know where South Park got its inspiration from.......
And in this temple they found the warrior Duck. If my Spanish is worth a damn I believe the duck was the spiritual animal of a great warrior of the Moche people. And since they recorded everything through pottery and murals, they have found warrior duck vases in the temples. Looks like Duck Dodgers, seriously.
¿How many people can you fit in a taxi in Peru?
8
¿How many people can you fit into a small Hiace van in Peru?
23
This is how comfortable it is travelling here people.
Good bye
Up the Dubs.

The Valley of Longevity is a Sordid Place

....whoa Vilcabamba, set at 1500 metres, lush green in a deathly quiet valley, wall like mountains keeping the wind at bay, people sleepily going about their lives in a tranquil bliss. Or so it would seem. The beauty of this place is only matched by the strangeness and in some cases down right evilness of its inhabitants. There is a price for serenity.......
..."ok so lets go get these things." Yes it was an innocent response to the question of whether or not I would like a snake juice from the bar. I consider myself a veteran of reptilian shorts since my days in 'Nam drinking snake whiskey. Eight shots where ordered for the group. Too many names to put down here. The local cowboy brought them out, a horriffic smell tickled at my stomach, inviting my hamburgeusa back up. I held it at bay. The glasses were big for a shot. About one and a half the norm. For show we sat on the novelty saddle seats. "Uno, dos, tres." The violent taste rushed up my nose and down to my stomach. It stayed there. And five minutes later I am reliably informed I was pissed. So to was Hugo, a Canadian cohort but not his wife Gen, who prodded us into stupidity for the night. I don´t remember much after that, except waking up, still pissed and finding Hugo asleep in a hammock, with contented gaze.......
MEET THE RESIDENTS OF VILCABAMBA
Gavin, rough as sand paper Kiwi owner of a local horse riding operation. Annoyed about recent killing of a neighbour who was 5 months pregnant by a policemans son. The police will not prosecute, and son has disappeared into the jungle. Writing a book on the town.
Pieter, dreadlocked German owner of hostel in the woods. Mostly stoned. Has to help the police to hunt down robbers in the mountains because the police don´t want to. Fountain of knowledge regarding the area and its people.
***(For legal reasons) owner of Las Ruinas Quineras, recently released from jail after one year. Different sources say he either assulted, raped, beat up or murdered someone. Nothing sure. Hostel is very odd, atmosphere really bad.
Drunken Irishman, me.
Goodnight and Good luck