Author: David Coveney | Page 26

Del Carajo

At the end of the night a few of us were still ready to party. The reception went from 2pm to 11pm and to be honest… that’s not enough when you have the wind in your sails. Myself and Romana had wondered off from the group to investigate another party in the military base that sounded fun, but like our own, without tickets you weren’t getting anywhere close. Society do’s are like that in Peru.

Carlos, Geraldine’s brother said he’d meet us at Del Carajo. Of course he was steaming by this point, but seemed keen. We didn’t realise he was also meeting another bunch at a restaurant elsewhere, and no doubt another group at a third venue. He didn’t show up at any – I don’t think his wife was having any of it!

And one of those optimistic taxis later we found ourselves in the middle of an obviously poor district – a nearby bar pounding out the music, armed guards, and dire warnings from the taxi driver not to go wandering around looking for taxis – which given we were still in wedding gear was sound advice in most locations. At 25soles each to get in it was damn pricey by Peruvian standards.

What we didn’t reckon on was the ritualised humiliation that was going to happen. We expected a bar – we got a big show. Part of which involved all tourists being asked to step forward. And made to dance. Realising this, Romana – who holds no truck with peer pressure – walked away from the stage and sat back down. I was alone. But I was going through with this…. My turn came up… And I danced like a white man. To rap music, for some reason, which as far as i could tell was taking the mick but in a relatively nice way. I hoped. But I was going to go along with it.

But Romana wasn’t getting off lightly – as I sat down I spotted her being dragged up to the front. Frankly I think the Peruvians were surprised that a Polish girl could do a better job of salsa and hip thrusting than the Brazilian that had been before. We didn’t need to buy any more beer after that and suddenly had a lot of new friends.

Wedding!

This was the primary reason for coming here! And hey, it rocked. As the bilingual service started I realised the priest had an obvious and clear Dublin accent. Turned out to be known to the extensive family network of John, the guy getting married.

You could see a slight tenderness in John’s steps as he walked into the church – he’d failed to take account of the tropical sunshine and been badly burned on the feet. Poor guy was blistered to hell and looked like he’d been paddling in boiling oil. Still, he recovered just enough to wear shoes to the wedding. Even did a top dance at the reception. Geraldine looked lovely, as brides are supposed to….

Reception – no speeches! Just the dance with John and Geraldine where he removed about five garters. These were then passed to various couples in the group including the father and mother. Kind of interesting to see the former chief of the military in Peru pushing a garter up the leg of his wife, though he had at least changed out of his military outfit worn for the wedding service.

Once that was done the dancing started and the drink flowed…. which moves us on to del Carajo….

Lima

Right – this is a posting from Paracas. Not had much time to post, and even now I only have half an hour before I’m expected to rejoin the group. Not exactly pricey though – it’s 1 soles for half an hour, which adds up to the almighty cost of 16p. I’m coming to the conclusion that the Peruvians aren’t poor because they’re exploited or lazy or uneducated or anything – in fact they come across as intelligent, industrious and eager. No, the real reason they’re skint is because they’ve no concept of the value of money. Our laundry for four people has just come to a little of two pounds….

Of course, this cafe isn’t the most amazing – tiny desks, a cranky keyboard, marenge music blasting out and an ancient Dell Optiplex. Now I know where those old corporate PCs end up.

So – Lima. It’s a bit grimy, but hey, it’s a third world capital. The taxis are mostly these tinny Daewoo Ticos driven by wonderfully optimistic drivers who beep at anyone who looks like they might be tired and in need of a lift. It’s 10 Soles to most city destinations, 15 Soles if it’s across town or at night. 7 Soles if it’s in the same district, and 5 Soles anywhere reasonably close. Other prices don’t seem to exist.

Hotel Lost

Zgubilismy sie i to jak gupki. Wysiadajac z taksowki w pospiechu, nie wzielismy wizytowki i teraz siedzimy w kafejce szukajac adresu naszego hotelu.

When a large group goes out together it’s inevitable that the group splits into small units. Myself and Romana went off in search of a backpack but neither of us checked if the other one knew where our hotel was. But that’s ok, a taxi driver’s bound to know where it is. Er…. No! So anyway, a cheerful day of ambling around, trying to explain what we wanted in ridiculously non-existant Spanish (asking for food or a taxi is one thing, trying to buy a sleeping bag liner or rucksack is an entirely different proposition…) and, basically, quite enjoying being lost. It’s not so bad.

Eventually the internet and a friendly tour guide rescued us. So it’s not all bad :o)

The taxis here are great comedy if you feel brave. These little optimistic looking Daewoo Ticos drive around hoping to pick up lifts. They’re very cheap and cheerful, largely unlicensed, and are probably more dangerous to your health than the muggers and and thieves that everyone keeps worrying about.

Oh – a handy tip – the Nationwide building society offers free cash withdrawals worldwide.

So don’t do like I did and, on the first day, leave it sticking out of a cash machine. Thankfully I have at least four other credit and debit cards so I should be pretty safe….

So just two days in, one lost debit card, and two lost tourists…. We’re in trouble!

The night before

I catch the plane at 9:20am. Preparations have been arduous.

I’ve been tipped off that a handy way of dealing with people hassling you for money is to say you don’t have enough, but instead offer a cigarette and a light. I’ll give feedback on this. Of course, carrying around boxes of fags with me could turn me into a forty a day nicotine addict, but I hope not.

Uhm – what else to say. I’m kind of waiting for my MP3 player to finish loading itself up. Damn slow thing – dunno what Philips were thinking of when they designed the interface. Remind me next time to get an Archos – it has a simpler design that doesn’t need special software. So I can change the contents easily wherever I am.

Right – all done! My next posting will be from Peru. Woo! Or maybe Newark airport if I’m bored and have the time….

Air Stewardesses

I learnt a long time ago that air stewardesses smile at me because they have to as part of their job, and not because they happen to fancy me. I know it’s hard for a guy, but so long as you remember this important fact and don’t get too carried away it will make your flights more restful while avoiding all that nasty business with security at the destination.

More preparation

I’m actually working on my fitness now. I realised that for things like the Inca Trail, as well as other stuff that might be fun to try like sand surfing, fitness will help. Thing is, I’ve realised that fitness is an elusive measure. Every time I’ve gone to the gym I’ve done the treadmill fitness test. My VO2 max is up by six points from average to above average, my weight’s down a few kilos, and my body fat’s looking almost reasonable. And do I feel any fitter? Well no, not really! So I suppose fitness isn’t necessarily about feeling better. I suspect your average marathon runner, though very fit, finishes the race with their heart pounding, ears ringing, and pains all over the place.

I also took a long walk up Moel Famau, the nearest proper mountain, at the weekend. My friend showed me a route up that I’d never taken, but in one part it has the disadvantage of being more or less straight up. We worked hard for that one but when you get to the top, or into a clearing where the view’s great… well it does feel worthwhile. It’s one reason why I want to do the Inca Trail. Reaching Machu Picchu on a bus just won’t seem nearly so magical.

So it’s more fitness. Every two days I have to make myself work hard on the stair climbing thingy at the gym, and do half an hour on the treadmill at its steepest setting. Of course, I hate gyms! They’re weird places where nobody seems to want to talk to anybody else. They’re hardly the chattiest places are they? I got a very weird look trying to initiate a conversation with the person on the machine next to me. Maybe I’m a freak?!

Jabs

Don’t let anyone fool you into thinking the yellow fever jab is trivial. It isn’t, it makes you feel f*cking awful! I thought maybe it was the effect of the wisdom tooth, but as the pain from that’s now subsiding I don’t think I can lay the blame on that.

Now – given that it’s essentially a mild version of the real disease it makes you realise just how bad a thing it must be to catch. So I suppose taking it is A Good Thing.

Ouch

Had my yellow fever jab today, and it turns out that that pretty much brings me up to date. Malaria tablets I get from the chemist’s (Boots in this case). I believe Maleron is the name of one of the better tablets.

I can’t say that the jab hurt much at all, but added to the wisdom tooth extraction I went through yesterday and the various drugs I’ve taken in preparation and for pain relief it’s all left me feeling pretty tired and jaded.

At the weekend I went to Dublin to see Geraldine and John (who are the happy couple that are marrying in Peru) and it was nice to catch up with them and some of the others from Paris that will be travelling in Peru. We didn’t really get much of the planning done that we hoped for, but I was disappointed that more people didn’t seem to want to hike to Machu Pichu along the Inca Trail although it was pointed out that as we’ll be there during the rainy season it may not be that clever an idea. However, I’ll set up a mailing list for everyone and hopefully we can get some good consensus going.

Travel with Jeremy Hardy

No really – it’s a possibility.

In Paris there’s an anglophone music and comedy promoter with the wonderful name of Karel Beer. He runs the Anything Matters website to promote his Laughing Matters and Music Matters shows. Absolutely top bloke, and he manages to bring to Paris some of the best English speaking comedy that’s around. Eddie Izzard’s obsession with doing gigs in France started through Karel – that’s how influential the bloke is.

And on the 21st and 22nd of November Jeremy Hardy is doing a gig. His partner can’t make it and now there’s a spare Eurostar ticket going free. Take it and you may well find yourself sitting next to the eloquent and funny Mr Hardy. Just go to the website and get in touch.

So there you go – if you’re a Hardy stalker you can now, possibly, get close to him for a good couple of hours or until he calls the guards, whichever comes first.

So far as the South America trip is concerned, not a lot of progress today. I’ve learned that you can buy DEET type tablets to put in your washing, so that your clothes will repel the mosquitos. There’s also various other things I need to get for avoiding the mozzies (and they do love the taste of my blood) including a net, spray and so on. Malaria you can be immunised against by following the right regime, but there’s no protection from dengue fever and it’s worth taking the risks seriously.

I now need to work out key locations to visit in southern Peru, Chile and Argentina. If there’s still time I’ll visit Brasil but I’m not going to bust a gut to do so. Like good wine, travel is best savoured slowly. Unless I’m driving – then I enjoy gorging myself like a glutton :o)