Welcome back once more dear readers, I hope you all have a bit of spare time to read this right away as to delay would only be delaying a treat. Or at least I hope you find it such. So with no further ado lets jump straight back in.
Part 3 left Stephan and I sat in the sun on the side of the road enjoying the clear blue sky and crisp clean breezeless air. In front of us was a short line of small shanty like kiosks selling everything the passer-by could ever be persuaded to buy. Behind us music came out of the police building from which a police man would emerge when a vehicle came past to check papers and to accept financial incentives for his speedy approval of said papers. All very discreet of course, not that there was anyone for miles to see.
Having consulted our guidebooks and Stephan's official 'Trip Notes' (which were last updated in 1998) again in the hope that we had missed something the first two times we realise the only hope of escaping before the three o'clock bus was to hitchhike. The problem with this was that there was a distinct lack of passing vehicles and the few that did come past were all going the wrong way. After about an hour and a glass of instant coffee from one of the kiosks Stephan left me to watch the bags and went back across the bridge to see if there had been any developments there. I sat listening to the music and watching the llamas on the mountainside behind the kiosks. Of all the places I have had to wait for a bus this has to be amongst the nicest, which made the wait relatively effortless and to begin with it was even slightly enjoyable especially after the freezing bus. Just as Stephan was returning without any good news one of the policemen came over and started talking to me in Spanish. I managed to remember the Spanish for 'I don't speak Spanish' and pointed him toward Stephan. It seemed that having been waiting about for over an hour the policeman wanted to know where we were headed and if there was anything he could help with. Well the conversation went on for a while with the general conclusion being the same as the one we had already reached ourselves. Although he did ask a few of the passing truck drivers for us in case his luck was better than Stephan's. It wasn't and after a while he had other things to attend to. So we sat and waited and while we did it occurred to us that even though there were no phones (to phone a taxi with) the police had a radio which they might be persuaded to use to contact another police station where there was a phone or something. It turned out however that they didn't know the frequency for the station in the nearest town and it wouldn't matter if they did as it was far too far for the transmission to reach it anyway. The only thing they could contact was their police car and when they tried this it was also out of range - oh well it was a long shot. And so we sat a bit more and after a bit of sitting one or other of us would get up and pace about for a while and then go back to sitting. During the two and a half hours we waited, less than twenty vehicles passed and we asked all of them, even an ambulance.
Our luck had to change sometime and considering that it was still almost five hours until the bus was due you could say we got off lightly. The truck had come along the road from the west and after the police had had their palms greased Stephan made his all too familiar enquiries. I was pretty amazed when he turned to me and signalled that I should go over. He climbed up the iron ladder bolted to the wooden side of the truck first and I passed up our bags. Then it was my turn to get a look over the top. The truck was probably ten or twelve feet high and as I clambered over the top I discovered we were to travel on top of about 400 full gas (fuel) cylinders. They were poorly secured and clattered a bit as we pulled away, they were also very uncomfortable to sit on so I sat on my pack and leant back against a wooden strut for stability. Having got over the bridge and turned right through the village the driver pulled over at the café and got out to have his lunch. So another half an hour passed and while it did I discreetly watched the local military personnel wander about with their huge rifles.
They say all good things come to those who wait (although in my experience they come quicker to those who don't) and eventually we did set off. I am pleased to report that the driving skills of our driver were significantly above the average and as a result the ride was pretty smooth, all things considered. I should mention that we weren't the only budget travellers onboard, also sat on the cylinders were two locals, one of whom was surprised to see gringos travelling in this way and wanted to know all about us, in a friendly way. Having been on the go for about three quarters of an hour we stopped at a small settlement to swap our chatty companion for a local woman. She didn't speak much to begin with but would play a vital role later in our journey. From that point on there was just a lot of empty road to cover. The 360 degree view from the top of the truck was fabulous and there was lots of fresh air without the slightest smell of meat - perfect. Having driven up and down and round and round yet more mountains we arrived at another small settlement. Here we helped pass some gas cylinders down for a delivery and replaced them with empty ones. It was at this point that our female companion chose to break her silence. She told us that shortly we would arrive in an area where the police didn't like people to travel in this way and so when we got to that area we would all have to hide as best we could. Well this added a bit of spice to an otherwise tame journey. We continued on through seemingly endless deep mountain valleys until upon her signal we all tried to lie flat on the top of the cylinders. In order to lie below the level of the side of the truck I couldn't continue to use my pack for cushioning so I made myself as comfy as anyone could between the protruding valve guards of two rows of the tanks. I had expected that we would only have to hide like this whilst passing a checkpoint or police station. I was wrong, we laid there for at least quarter of an hour by which time I was really very very uncomfortable. Having taken several sneaky peaks over the front of the truck our lookout gave the signal that we were passed the danger area. This whilst a relief also came with the news that there was a couple of other places where this would be necessary. It struck me as odd that in one place the police would ask passing drivers if they could give us a lift and in other areas we had to hide in case we were seen by them.
Fortunately we evaded the authorities every time and after a total of four hours sat on top of a truck we descended one last mountainside with our destination city sprawling from one side of the broad shallow valley to the other. It wasn't the most well maintained of cities even by Peruvian standards but it was bustling with people and cars. We were dropped off at the gas depot on the edge of town and after giving the driver a seemingly tiny amount of money for his help we flagged down the smelliest taxi I have ever been in. The taxi driver not only smelled bad but also drove terribly and didn't even get us to the right hotel. We asked for directions in the hotel he had dropped us next to and we walked from there. Whilst we checked in the others arrived back having had a few hours to explore town. We exchanged stories of our journeys but before I relay a summary of their adventure I should address another matter. So far I haven't told you where it is we had gone to all this trouble to get to. Nor have I told you one of the reasons it is so difficult to get there. The name of the city is Ayacucho. You may remember in part one of these adventures I said I would be going to places where other travellers fear to tread. Well this is one of them and I think we had met a few Peruvians who would rather not go there either. Why? Well, it was the birthplace and headquarters of the Shining Path. Although, as I said in part three, this group has been almost inactive for over ten years but recent incidents have made people nervous. Its hardly surprising considering that for a sizeable chunk of the 80's and 90's anyone thought to be siding with the military was severely punished or killed.
Ayacucho is of quite some historical significance to Peru and was originally a settlement called Huamanga. Here in 1593 the Spanish founded the city which they named San Juan de la Frontera. This name changed after the King's forces defeated the rival Almagrist power at the Battle of Chupas and was then known as San Juan de la Victoria. Then perhaps the most historic battle of all changed its name again. The Battle of Ayacucho was fought on the 9'th December 1824 and it was on this day that Spanish rule of Peru was brought to an end. Although still known to the indigenous locals as Huamanga it was declared during the liberty celebrations that it would be known as Ayacucho - The City of Blood.
All of this paints a rather grim and worrying picture of the place but having been there I can honestly say I didn't feel threatened and certainly wasn't desperate to leave. Anyway, now you know where we all were I will briefly relay to you the adventure the others had had on their way here. We'd waved them off in the car Stephan had hired. It had been a steep 'payment in advance' agreement with Stephan being assured that no more passengers would be picked up on the way. Well perhaps the driver took this to mean paying passengers as no sooner were they out of our sight than he had stopped and his family were squeezed in. This included putting his wife in the boot and it wasn't a hatchback. To top it off his driving was more in keeping with the local style making every single tight mountain bend a reason to pray. For all that though they did get into town several hours before we did.
For me at least the days adventures were not yet over. We had met up to go out for dinner and I chose tonight to try a Peruvian speciality that I had promised myself I would try long before I left England. The dish in question is called Cui and can be cooked in a variety of ways. I ordered mine covered in a tomato and garlic sauce and deep fried in breadcrumbs. I have to say it was a little hard to get the meat off of the bone with a knife and fork and was later told that the locals use their fingers and just bite it off. It was worth the effort though and I am very glad I didn't chicken out of trying it. Why would I do that? Well a Cui is (brace yourselves pet lovers) a Guinea Pig. When it arrived it didn't resemble a Guinea Pig too much but once I got the breadcrumbs off you could see its little legs and even its front teeth - cool huh. Others in the group expressed a desire to try it on some other occasion but later in the trip once back on the tourist trail the price doubled and they used this as an excuse not to, hmm...
The next day after a late start (8:30am!) we set off together to explore the town. Or perhaps I should say that we ended up having a relaxing day exploring town after abandoning our self guided tour of local craftspeople. The badly photocopied map we had telling us where to find these crafts men and women was just too vague and we had seen a fair few crafty people already. So we did a museum and hung out in a café where they served non-instant coffee (classy huh!) and looked through photos. The café was on the side of the town square where there was a great deal of scaffolding that had been put up for the filming of a documentary about some local saint. Later in the day there was a procession from the cathedral involving a huge white pyramidal structure decorated with all sorts of things. It was carried (using poles than ran under it) around the square very slowly and at intervals would be put down and some priests (I assume) would shout something. The slightly alarming part of this whole thing was that every now and again a man would run out in front of the pyramid bearers and put down a stick structure with some things attached to it and then retreat to a safe distance. The things in question were very loud bangers and when they went off it not only made you jump (even when you were expecting it) it made the ground shake. This whole thing went on for quite some time and I never discovered exactly what it was all about.
That evening the others had the sense to get an early night as we had a 3:30am start the next morning but Stephan and I decided to have a bit of a night on the town. Having had very little sleep I hauled on my backpack and wandered down darkened corridors to the hotel reception where (as usual) Stephan was the only other person ready and waiting. As time passed the other members of our group appeared one by one and once all assembled we got a taxi through the cold darkness of the early morning to the bus station. Here we discovered that although our bus was scheduled to leave at 4am it had to wait for a connecting bus from Lima to arrive and this didn't get there until an hour later. So much for getting up on time. Anyway, at last it was time to set off and I was pleased that it was a much more spacious and comfortable bus than last one and rather a lot warmer too. I have to assume that there weren't any people of faint heart on the bus as the journey that we had embarked upon would likely have been the end of them. It all started as soon as we were clear of the town. In many ways the road could be described using the same words I have described all the other mountain roads here. The big difference was this one was much worse, in fact I personally rate it as the most worrying road I travelled in the country - or anywhere for that matter. The road was narrower the bends were tighter the surface was bumpier there was fresh evidence of rockslides. Every now and again we would come to a tiny wooden bridge over a stream where the bridge wasn't much more than a couple of stout planks which the driver had to drive along with absolute perfection or else we would tumble downwards. At other times the bus was so close to the edge of the mountain and the drop was so steep that when I looked out of the window I couldn't see the land at all; it was like flying and on the tight corners the back end of the bus was hanging right out over the edge. It was difficult not to let it get the better of you especially during the hairiest moments but a glance about at the locals was rather comforting as they were quite at their ease which told me there was nothing to be concerned about. This was made all the worse by the driver who was clearly in a bit of a hurry, we were making good time but his driving didn't nurture a feeling of safety. This was most noticeable when something happened that even rattled the locals. There was a bang and then a pulsed hissing noise that gradually faded away. One of the buses tyres had blown. Thinking he may not be aware of the problem some of the locals went to talk to him only to have him wave them away. He knew exactly what happened but he wasn't stopping until we got to town and he didn't slow down either. Anyway, after our 11 hour roller coaster ride we pulled into the bus station in Andahuaylas (or On The Wireless as I called it).
The first challenge was to try and identify our bags which were now coated in a thick layer of dust from the road which had managed to get into the baggage hold. This done we asked directions to the hotel we were meant to stay in but after walking about a bit saw an OK looking place and decided to stay there instead. From my room window I got a good view of the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. At ground level these buildings look reasonably presentable but the uppermost floor of a great many Peruvian buildings often look very different. How so? Well put simply they aren't finished. Some will have a roof and some don't. Instead there are a number of rusting iron reinforcing rods stretching skywards awaiting the day that they too may become a functional part of the structure. In some places these rods had upturned empty plastic bottles put over their ends in an attempt to stop them rusting. After some enquiries we discovered that the reason for this is that when the building owner has some cash he starts some ambitious project only to run out of money and then leave it as it is until he can afford to add a bit more. Also families often do a lot of the building themselves and so can only work at it while they have no other work to be doing. It can take years for a house to be completed and by the looks of it quite a few are never finished. It doesn't do much for the look of the place but no one seems to care or even notice.
Having settled into my room I had a couple of hours to waste before dinner and seeing as I had eaten very little all day it would have been an excellent idea to pop out to the local shops and get some snacks to see me through. All very well in theory but it was about now that I became aware of a development that made this a less suitable course of action. Those of you who have read my Adventures in OZ will recall the time I was beset by mosquitoes and then in NZ I was picked on by sand flies. Well it would seem that every country has to have some sort of assailant and were I in the jungle it may have again been of the flying biting variety but high up in the Andes there aren't many of those. Here I had fallen prey to an even more insidious villain which I shall refer to by the euphemism 'Travellers Tummy'. I had been feeling a little off colour all day but having woken after three hours sleep to go on an eleven hour terror ride I hadn't suspected a biological agent to be its cause. Anyway, when dinner time arrived I may have gone without had I been less hungry. Stephan guided us through the streets he had spent the last hour or two getting to know to a small Chinese restaurant where our conversation was drowned out by Conan the Barbarian on the TV. It had been a wearying days travel and so an early night was in order and on top of this a late morning and a breakfast that lasted 'till noon.
We all piled into a mini-van for a rough ride through the countryside avoiding stray livestock at every turn. We were headed to a lake which after all the mountains and plains made a refreshing change (it was of course encircled with mountains). Here we were to stop at a fish restaurant for lunch, a chance to try another local dish. Just before we arrived however we spotted a new animal to add to the list of 'Animals I Have Seen'. Peru is well known for llamas and almost as well known for alpacas, these two animals are both of the same family (related to camels I believe) and there are two more much rarer ones. I can't remember what the fourth member of the group is called (possibly a guanaco) but the third one, the one we saw grazing by the lake was the very rare vicuna. This creature resembled a big sheep with a llama like neck and head. It was just as uninterested in tourist with cameras as all the llamas had been. Anyway onto the food. We sat outside at a table and chairs made of tree stumps and other chunks of natural wood with the perfect view of the lake. I am willing to bet that few tourists ever get to eat here. The main dish worthy of mention was called ceviche and the main ingredient is raw fish 'cooked' in lime juice. Obviously the lime juice can't literally cook the fish but it does make the outer surface go white as if cooked, it was still cold and essentially raw. In the past, before I ever went travelling I would never eat fish unless forced to in order to be polite. During my travels however I have on many occasions been put in situations where it was fish or hunger and so I have learned to eat it and even like it sometimes. This wasn't one of those times. I do try and stick to the trite traveller adage 'Its good to try new things' and so I tried this and I really did try to like it but if I never have to chew citrusy fish flesh again I won't be too sorry - the Guinea Pig was much nicer.
After lunch we drove further around the lake past a flock (if that's the right collective term) of flamingos. We were at last going to see some of the other thing Peru is most famous for. Ruins! Before we get there though I am going to have to sign off and leave the pre-Inca Chanka fortress for next time. Until then my readers, until then.
David.