The road to Paracas

And now we find ourselves in Paracas – a four hour bus ride from Lima. It’s a tiny fishing village with a lot of restaurants good naturedly touting for business on the promenade, a small beach, a few hostels and a feeling of chaotic charm. It’s clearly poor as hell, but everyone seems happy too.

This internet shop appears to be run by a fat woman who eats a lot of burgeresque sandwiches and her eight year old son who wields a notepad with impressive precision.

Jon and Kath – you want to know about the wimmin?

Short and stout, mostly! Seems like the latino lovelies that everyone expect are mostly to be found elsewhere – european settlement of Peru was limited, unlike some other parts. Of course, within the group I’m travelling with the girls are all lovely, but to say any more would be indiscreet :o)

Oh – something I’d like to say… there’s less litter on the streets in this third world country than most towns in the UK, France or Spain. Kinda depressing in a way.

Tomorrow it’s the Islas Ballestas, a nature reserve, by boat before packing up and moving on to Ica. Or Nazca. I’m not entirely sure – six out of eight of the group speak fluent French, and the consequence is that I miss stuff. But going with the flow’s good. I’m chilling.