Travelling with the gals, Mills and Paris at oir side, we ventured into the city of Areqiupa supposedly Peru{s second largest city. The only reason we came here was for Colca Canyon, apparently a great wonder of South America, which it was. Apart from the fact that we set off on our day trip at three in the morning, unamused, having had little kip caused by the endless drones coming from Wild Rovers bar, cheers Sean Paul, Occy will ever be a fan. A fun fact- Arequipa, by the way is known to be sunny 360 days of the year. When Occy and Rosie decide to set foot in the city, the clouds decide to form and rain appears to fall. Yes we are the lucky ones. This rainfall continued for the duration of our day trip to Colca Canyon, misery prevailed. Over to you Octavia.
We were less impressed by the selection of tourists gathered around us, one of whom openly criticised my choice of footgear (flip flops) and claimed that I tried to push him off a rock and into the abyss below. Talk about dramatic. We were mildly enthused by the apparition of Colcas famous birdlife, the majestical Condor, although once you{ve seen one, lets face it, you see them all. Thus you can understand our lack of jolity when were told that we had to remain purched on the cliff face for a further hour and a half. It was 5 in the morning. More joy ensued, upon arriving at our lunch destination and being informed we had to fork out an extortionate amount of cash for a chicken wantan and buffet. We sat miserably nibbling on a Ritz cracker whilst everyone around us happily tucked into the surplus supply of food. A true sense of humour failure arrived at the point where we had to wait a further 3 hours in the bus while the richer tourists among us took a dip in a supposed sacred pool in the valley below. After all this malarchy, we eventually arrived at the Canyon, which was very impressive alrhough we ended up spending the least amount of time there which was slightly irritating, we headed on home, a rather sleepy bus journey I must say.
A short stay in Arequipa lead us onto the dunes and Huacachina oasis, a massive highlight so far. A beautiful oasis in the middle of nowhere surrounded miles worth of sand and known for its crazy sandboarding down the dunes. The best thing was sraying in the Cornish owned La Casa de Bamboo, a family run restaurant that had a dorm spare for us four girlies. It was a real taste of home and we felt mummied for the first time in four months. Yes, we were up to our eyeballs in banoffee pie and amazing curry, all homemade, and yes this made us slide down the dunes with ease. We spent our first day chilling by the oasis and soaking up the much needed Peruvian sun. Milly then thought it was a good idea to climb up the biggest dune with a full stomach, Ocs actually made it to the top and Paris shoes were destined to be buried in the sand for life. Unlucky.
Despite the mild cardiac arrest we experienced, we descended and braced ourselves for a day in the formidable desert the next day. I think its fair to say we weren{t quite prepared for the dune buggy ride that awaited us. Thorpe Park, eat your heart out. Our driver had obviously just syringed some drug like substance through his eyeballs and we were forced to cling onto the sides for dear life. It was then time to tackle the dunes. I solemnly swear, sandboarding looks a hell of a lot easier than it actually is, for upon mounting the boards and proclaiming ourselves to be dudes of the desert, both Rosie and I promptly wiped out, tits over arse. After a few practice runs we hit the big dunes, and we decided to defy the socially acceptable and go down face first. An error. Eyes, mouth and nose filled with sand, sun glasses flown off into the distance and all dignity abandoned. Furthermore Mr Acid-fuelled Guide had an impressive view of all our rear ends on the way down.
An amazing few days, not to be forgotten quickly. Lima was to be our final destination together and we arrived in a state of melancholy, having to leave Paris as she jetted off back to the land of home and Mills embarked on her volunteering. Sadly, we departed on less than jolly terms, as Rosie inconveniently decided to throw up all down herslef on the bus and groaned bleakly for the following day. Milly and I expressed our sympathy by building a den in our dorm and proudly naming it Denver Castle. The invalid, and the hostel cleaning staff, were less than amused.
I cannot describe how irritating it was. Being in a state of food poisoning and listening to a pair of jibbering retrobates speaking in scottish and planning their future careers as tour guides, this was not my ideal situation. However I soon mended and we headed on out to the cinema for an evening viewing of The Great Gatsby, yes in English! It was fab, Leo was on top form and we left feeling contented. After a wonderful week with the gals, it was the terrible two, back together, Octavia and myself hit the road again up to the very north, Mancora and sunshine!
Friday 21 June 2013
Thursday 13 June 2013
We have finally left Cusco after three amazing weeks of slight madness, and some near death experiences- I'm kidding, no need for concern. We are a bit weepy after leaving the lovely boys though and our fellow volunteers, guys we miss you a lot! Many happy memories, here are just a few...
We can safely say that our stamina has improved immensely over the past few weeks, altitude has got the better of us and yes there have been a few abrasions to the flesh. A night on the toon became a regular occurrence in Cusco. Lads. For example, one recent occasion included hitching a 2 minute bus ride to our 'dancing destination' and Octavia taking the liberty to stand on the back of the so called hippy van. This trembling exhaust was not willing to withstand humankind and so one minute she was there, the next, road kill. DO NOT PANIC AL, ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Octavia fell on her thigh and was luckily not swept under the vehicle, instead she made her way, with a limp to the nearest pasteleria open at 5am and healed her moment of fear. India and I on the other hand were freaking out and made five journeys back and forth to find the trembling creature who was very contentedly sat in a cafe.
So while I luckily avoided being spatulared off the Peruvian tarmac, Rosie had a close encounter with shin splints on another occasion, thinking it wise to fall backwards off a bar and hence smashing the discoteca's entire supply of alcohol. Her popularity was raging, and, more importantly, her leg was almost halved at the knee. Nice one Rosie. We can say, as a general rule, the Cusquenan mojitos usually resulted in, one, being sick during having our face painted, two, finding the excuse to consume an obscene amount of fast food in the early hours, and three, having to awkwardly explain to the fellow volunteers why the entire contents of the fridge had miraculously disappeared the following morning. Gabby, we will replace your milk, rice and vegetables at a later date/in the next life.
Our day time activities were no less devoid of accident. One sunny day saw Rosie strolling innocently up the hill, to be confronted by Devil Dog inhabiting next door. Attacking from behind, said mongrel went for calves 1 and 2 and consequently Rosie is now frothing at the mouth. Rather inconvenient really. Do not despair, Soph, she isn't barking yet. Its true, I'm not rabid, just scarred for life and poised for attack at any dog that approaches, armed with meat chops in times of desperation. As a treat Octavia, organised a lovely day of relaxation to soothe my wounds, this included a session of yoga, where I'm pretty sure we ruined every ligament in our bodies. Ocs was rather unfortunate in that she had a rastafarian's ass in her face for the entire hour of stretching. Following this was a Peruvian style, full body massage, very relaxing I must say, until it came to the feet whereby Octavia's masseuse fled the building.
Feeling cultural, we hopped on the local bus one day to explore the city's historical heritages. Unfortunately, we missed the stop and carried off into the suburbs and over the horizon, lost and presumed dead by all. Sadly India, who had "fallen incorrectly" during her bungee jump (moron) was forced to limp round the deserted streets in the rain. We shouldnt have laughed. But we did. A miserable lunch of Polleria's fried chicken and a viewing of Jaws 4 in Spanish prevailed. Maybe not as cultural as we had hoped. Still, the intention was there. But disaster was still around corner. Rosie impulsively decided to reinvent her image and bravely frequented the local hairdresser. It was apparent instantly that relevant qualifications were thin on the ground, for Rosie emerged with bowl cut and bruised ego. She looks swell. Attempting to straighten the unequal incline of practically shaved scalp, Mrs Woman next door removed a further 6 inches off Rosie's previously lucious locks, plunging the poor child into a heightened stage of baldness. Tee hee.
But along with the bruises and additonal bite marks, are some great moments shared with the boys. I wish we could bang on about all of them in turn, but we insist upon meeting them yourselves. As a sample, you would be fortunate to witness Edgar's surprising flexibility when it came to the Limbo, Efrain's astonishing dance moves for an 11 year old, Stephen's ruthless charm and killer smile, and Jonathan's mad skills with a football. We are failed in our attempts to kidnap Moses, the baby of the bunch, but whose ego would be enough to make Clooney weak at the knees. We can safely say that we have never made so many hot dogs in all our days, or been defeated quite so often at bench ball. One sunday trip we took the boys to the forest where we attempted to play our best football, to no avail and ended up being flawed several times down rabbit holes. At one stage, there were 12 volunteers and 4 boys. We lost. A pancake session was in order, which the boys thoroughly enjoyed, demonstrating our flipping skills, Alex was in his element and the boys were in awe of his talents, nice one Al. Octavia and I also invested in a farewell cake which tasted a bit like ash, a nice gesture on the whole.
Cusco, we miss you. Original Volunteers Adios. It has honestly been one of our favourite moments in the past three and a half months and we shall return in true style to visit the boys and raid the restaurants. We hit the road again and journey on to Arequipa with Paris and Milly in tow, until next time.
We can safely say that our stamina has improved immensely over the past few weeks, altitude has got the better of us and yes there have been a few abrasions to the flesh. A night on the toon became a regular occurrence in Cusco. Lads. For example, one recent occasion included hitching a 2 minute bus ride to our 'dancing destination' and Octavia taking the liberty to stand on the back of the so called hippy van. This trembling exhaust was not willing to withstand humankind and so one minute she was there, the next, road kill. DO NOT PANIC AL, ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL. Octavia fell on her thigh and was luckily not swept under the vehicle, instead she made her way, with a limp to the nearest pasteleria open at 5am and healed her moment of fear. India and I on the other hand were freaking out and made five journeys back and forth to find the trembling creature who was very contentedly sat in a cafe.
So while I luckily avoided being spatulared off the Peruvian tarmac, Rosie had a close encounter with shin splints on another occasion, thinking it wise to fall backwards off a bar and hence smashing the discoteca's entire supply of alcohol. Her popularity was raging, and, more importantly, her leg was almost halved at the knee. Nice one Rosie. We can say, as a general rule, the Cusquenan mojitos usually resulted in, one, being sick during having our face painted, two, finding the excuse to consume an obscene amount of fast food in the early hours, and three, having to awkwardly explain to the fellow volunteers why the entire contents of the fridge had miraculously disappeared the following morning. Gabby, we will replace your milk, rice and vegetables at a later date/in the next life.
Our day time activities were no less devoid of accident. One sunny day saw Rosie strolling innocently up the hill, to be confronted by Devil Dog inhabiting next door. Attacking from behind, said mongrel went for calves 1 and 2 and consequently Rosie is now frothing at the mouth. Rather inconvenient really. Do not despair, Soph, she isn't barking yet. Its true, I'm not rabid, just scarred for life and poised for attack at any dog that approaches, armed with meat chops in times of desperation. As a treat Octavia, organised a lovely day of relaxation to soothe my wounds, this included a session of yoga, where I'm pretty sure we ruined every ligament in our bodies. Ocs was rather unfortunate in that she had a rastafarian's ass in her face for the entire hour of stretching. Following this was a Peruvian style, full body massage, very relaxing I must say, until it came to the feet whereby Octavia's masseuse fled the building.
Feeling cultural, we hopped on the local bus one day to explore the city's historical heritages. Unfortunately, we missed the stop and carried off into the suburbs and over the horizon, lost and presumed dead by all. Sadly India, who had "fallen incorrectly" during her bungee jump (moron) was forced to limp round the deserted streets in the rain. We shouldnt have laughed. But we did. A miserable lunch of Polleria's fried chicken and a viewing of Jaws 4 in Spanish prevailed. Maybe not as cultural as we had hoped. Still, the intention was there. But disaster was still around corner. Rosie impulsively decided to reinvent her image and bravely frequented the local hairdresser. It was apparent instantly that relevant qualifications were thin on the ground, for Rosie emerged with bowl cut and bruised ego. She looks swell. Attempting to straighten the unequal incline of practically shaved scalp, Mrs Woman next door removed a further 6 inches off Rosie's previously lucious locks, plunging the poor child into a heightened stage of baldness. Tee hee.
But along with the bruises and additonal bite marks, are some great moments shared with the boys. I wish we could bang on about all of them in turn, but we insist upon meeting them yourselves. As a sample, you would be fortunate to witness Edgar's surprising flexibility when it came to the Limbo, Efrain's astonishing dance moves for an 11 year old, Stephen's ruthless charm and killer smile, and Jonathan's mad skills with a football. We are failed in our attempts to kidnap Moses, the baby of the bunch, but whose ego would be enough to make Clooney weak at the knees. We can safely say that we have never made so many hot dogs in all our days, or been defeated quite so often at bench ball. One sunday trip we took the boys to the forest where we attempted to play our best football, to no avail and ended up being flawed several times down rabbit holes. At one stage, there were 12 volunteers and 4 boys. We lost. A pancake session was in order, which the boys thoroughly enjoyed, demonstrating our flipping skills, Alex was in his element and the boys were in awe of his talents, nice one Al. Octavia and I also invested in a farewell cake which tasted a bit like ash, a nice gesture on the whole.
Cusco, we miss you. Original Volunteers Adios. It has honestly been one of our favourite moments in the past three and a half months and we shall return in true style to visit the boys and raid the restaurants. We hit the road again and journey on to Arequipa with Paris and Milly in tow, until next time.
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