The roads that test us

Our final taste of Peru was unfortunately sour; with a tour of Lake Titicaca opening our eyes to how much tourism has exploited the lives of the local people.  And so, relieved that it was over, we arrived, enthusiastic, in Bolivia, only to find ourselves faced with the first of what turned out to be a long troublesome string of unfortunate events.  Copacabana - on the shores of Lake Titicaca and by no means a small town - has no ATM, a fact we only became privy to post border crossing and changing the few remaining Peruvian soles we had left, even in cheap as chips Bolivia, wasn’t going to get us very far.  So our plan to visit the Isla del Sol had was abandoned for lack of funds, and we hoped on a bus to La Paz.  Still eager to discover this mysterious country, we remained in high spirits until day two in the bustling capital when I collapsed in the street with a pretty nasty case of altitude sickness.  And so commenced a couple of flu-like days and Phil, wonderful husband that he is, kept me company in my misery.  We indulged in a great deal of cable TV and only ventured out for the necessary task of eating, through which we encountered disaster number three – food poisoning.   As we all know what that entails I will spare you the unfortunate details.  So we were grounded in La Paz for a few more days, during which time we discovered that our next desired destination was no longer accessible due to a roadblock.  It really felt like Bolivia was against us, and more than any other time in our nine months travelling, all I wanted more than anything was get on a plane and fly home; to comfort, familiarity and friendly faces.

Eventually we made it south to the city of Sucre, and suddenly things started to look up.  Beautifully colonial and deliciously warm, we spent six wonderful days basking in sunshine and eating in fancy restaurants (a definite must after recovering from the effects of a dodgy kebab and fortunately exceptionally cheap in Bolivia).  Sad to leave what had quickly become a makeshift home, we headed to Potosi for a gruelling and eye-opening tour of the mines, and finally to Uyuni and the salt flats.  Easily the highlight of our time in Bolivia, the Salar de Uyuni and its surrounding countryside felt like something from another world, and in the three days we spent amongst its unusual beauty, it was easy to forget all the stresses and strains that Bolivia had burdened us with.  It was a blessing and a truly amazing end to what has been the most difficult country we have encountered on our journey.  Now we are saying goodbye and I am relieved, but glad that Bolivia didn’t succeed in breaking me, despite how hard it seemed to try.

The road to Machu Picchu

Cuzco’s proximity to Machu Picchu is the draw card that guarantees its place on the itinerary of every traveller to Peru; however its own ancient charms are what hold people here for longer than they had anticipated.  The landscape that surrounds this city is so startlingly beautiful that one is almost tempted to believe that it’s not real; a fake, movie set view.  Completely unlike Arequipa in every way, Cuzco’s buildings are predominantly brown with red roofs, and at the end of every hilly, cobbled street you are met, once again, with a glimpse of that unbelievable backdrop.  Flanked by rolling hills and staggering peaks, it’s easy to see why the Inca’s claimed this land as their own; a worthy destination for their largest city, and evidence of them is still very much present in its walls.  Despite its tourist hoards and the presence of, what I truly believe must be, the world’s most beautiful McDonald’s, one can easily imagine that not much has changed in the design of this city for hundreds of years.  Within our first day of arriving, Phil has declared that Cuzco is the most beautiful city he has ever seen and, despite my love affair with Valparaiso, I am sorely tempted to agree.

We spend four days exploring as many of its nooks and crannies as we can find, though acclimatizing to an altitude of 3300m makes for very slow going.  Ordinarily Phil and I are exceptionally competent hill walkers, but in Cuzco breathlessness is almost immediate even on the slightest incline, with our hearts beating so fast I fear they may try and make a break for it to explore on their own terms!  But this necessary slow pace suits us quite happily and we enjoy our forced relaxation.  On our final evening we sip cocktails looking out over the spectacular view of the city, trying to contemplate the next part of our journey.  Booked almost a year ago, it has crept up on us unexpectedly and suddenly we find ourselves, a little overwhelmed, facing the road to Machu Picchu.

We have chosen not to do the infamous “Inca Trail” due to the sheer volume of other travellers who walk it daily, opting instead for a considerably more anonymous route:  The Jungle Trail.  It is a beautiful trek, up and down mountains, through exquisite jungle, and the three days prior to us reaching Machu Picchu are a complete joy in themselves.  On the third day, we arrive, exhausted, at the Temple of the Sun, another Inca site from where, in the distance, we get our first glimpse.  All my knowledge of the Lost City of the Incas could not prepare me for the breathtaking beauty of the valley that surrounds it; so unexpectedly green and alive in comparison to the dry, dusty Peru we have experienced up until now.  The cloudless blue sky sets off dazzling snow-covered peaks, that sit behind magnificent tree covered mountains that give way to a vast gorge, and in the centre of it all, nestled so subtly, is Machu Picchu.  It is breathtaking, and so well hidden in amongst this wilderness that it comes as no surprise that it took the western world so many years to discover it.

Describing Machu Picchu in words feels like an impossible task and one that I am not worthy of.  No doubt many of you will have seen the infamous image of this sacred city, but you can never anticipate how you will feel when you are standing within its walls.  You and two thousand other tourists; this is certainly not a place you will find solitude, but instead a glimpse at the incredible capabilities of humanity, and that, in itself, is to be treasured.  Getting lost for hours amongst its maze of walls will give you a good idea of the size of the city; after nine hours I still couldn’t be sure if there was more that we had yet to discover.  Yet nothing could compare to just standing; being; looking down on that view, of the city in its entirety, drinking in the complexity of its structures and its beauty; this incredible creativity realised at the hands of men, and, for me, evidence that we were made in the image of the Creator.  Even at the at the end of such a long day I struggled to tear myself away from that view, and I hope that it will remain in my memory always.

Sunrise Machu Picchu

Under the blue, blue sky

Our initial S.Am plan had been to go into the south of Chile, from where we would cross into the Argentine Lake District and work our way up north through Bolivia and Peru, finishing in Lima for our long flight back to reality.  However, as we’ve got to know many times throughout this trip, our plans often don’t fit with those of He who knows better, and so once again we have found ourselves upended.  During our visit to Valparaiso we Couch surfed with two Chilean students, whom through we discovered that our grand plan was fraught with flaws; big, unchangeable weather related flaws.  Do our route as planned, and the continent was going to see out its rainy season with us under every cloud.  I love Scotland but detest its rainy disposition (and our journey through New Zealand has given me cause to suspect that I may suffer from SAD), so after some intense planning (and praying)we made the decision to head from Valparaiso to Peru to do our trip in reverse.  And so we find ourselves, following a thirty-one hour bus journey, unexpectedly in Peru, three and half months earlier than we had originally anticipated.  On yet another bus, I am drinking in miles of desert plains, awe-struck that sand can look so beautiful without the ocean to safeguard it from dullness.  The sky has never looked as blue; deep and rich; as it does against the pale yellow of this breathtaking wilderness.  We pass pocket sized shanty towns and the people that occupy them, in traditional dress under the baking sun, and I am reminded of those first few weeks in China, where we first came into contact with communities who, as of yet, remain untouched by technology and change and the desperation that hovers over the western world for wealth and success.  Despite the unforgiving heat, it’s refreshing to see life like this first hand though the culture shock is startling.  These isolated villages seem worlds apart from the cities of Chile; New Zealand a universe away.  That we come from such privilege hits me between the eyes with a thud and all worries about our money stretching to accommodate our extra months evaporate.

We arrive in Arequipa, our first Peruvian destination, and I immediately fall in love.  “The White City” is the aesthetic opposite of Valparaiso, but in no way less charming.  White stone buildings seem more reminiscent of Greece than the colourful Latin America I expected, but walking through the cobbled streets we are repeatedly faced with the startling sight of the snow-capped volcanoes that surround the city; a reminder that this is most certainly not the Mediterranean, but this mysterious continent that, after every hellishly long bus journey, continues to surprise us again and again.  Shops are bursting to their seams with colourful Peruvian textiles that leave me an excitable quivering mess who can barely contain the money in my pocket.  Within a few days I have purchased an alpaca hat and woven bag, and have mentally thrown away the entire contents of my backpack and replaced it with vibrant handicrafts. 

From here we travel to the Colca Canyon, second deepest in the world only to its neighbour Cotahuasi Canyon.  We pass through dusty villages that seem so different in their way of life even to Arequipa, and descend into the depths of this vast crevice in the earth.  How small one feels surrounded by its looming sides under a sky that, by day, is the most startling cobalt blue and, by night, is filled with more stars than my eyes can bear to look at.  I am overwhelmed by this vast expanse of heaven above me; each burst of light like a little glimpse of glory; remembering, in awe, the one who not only created them all, but knows each and every one by name.


(PS - I truly hope you are enjoying the blog as much as I am enjoying writing them!  I have added a new function at the bottom of the screen that allows you to sign up so you can receive new blogs direct to your email account.  We hope that you all continue to follow us on this journey and look forward to seeing you when we return.)

The final chapter begins...

The journey from Auckland to Santiago transported us both back in time and closer to home.  But as we relived July 15^th in this new, unfamiliar land, I had never felt farther from the life I know so well (albeit a little less these days).  We have been catapulted from the comfortably familiar into the daunting unknown, so little do we feel we know about this land in which we now find ourselves.

My first glimpse of Chile is of a dry expanse of thirsty brown land speckled with little coloured houses that sit quietly under the watchful eye of the magnificent Andes.  Santiago, like so many cities in this world, is non-descript; it could be anywhere and is only betrayed by its inhabitants.  But it finds its redemption in the little pockets of beauty that we came upon in unexpected alleyways and around occasional corners; streets lined with Parisian-esque houses, adorned with swirling wrought iron balconies and wooden shutters, each a different colour of the rainbow. 

For the first few days I am a terrible travel companion.  Jetlag equals lack of sleep which equals a woman who wants to do little more than sit in the hostel watching DVDs and checking Facebook.  Though we do manage to venture out amongst the string of brain-mushing rom-coms, doing so forces me to start speaking the little Spanish I know (because the majority of people here speak no English), which is a complete disaster and only worsens my mood.  Then I succumb to a chest infection, and begin to wonder how I’ll survive the next four and half months in this, so far, stressful continent when all I really want to do is go home and make a bloody tiramisu!

I am still moping around with my new found depression on the fourth day, until we step off the bus in the city of Valparaiso, and here, with the force of a mirror dropped on a stone floor, my grouchy disposition smashes into a thousand tiny pieces.  Everything we imagined South America would be; Valparaiso is.  The scales fall from my eyes and suddenly I can see the magic of this continent that is like no other, and every fear of what we might encounter here melts away.  It is a city that has grown up around its harbour, though its proximity to the sea has little to do with its charms.  As with Santiago, the land surrounding Valparaiso is brown and lifeless, though it is barely noticeable amidst the sheer volume of colour that engulfs this quirky city; brings it to life.  A walk down every vibrant street is more captivating than any museum could ever dream to be; the streets are a gallery in themselves.  Houses are painted in every imaginable shade – red, yellow, blue, green, pink, purple, magenta, turquoise, orange, lilac, mint – and their walls adorned with what one might call graffiti, but much of which is art of the finest quality.  We spend four days doing nothing other than wondering up and down winding roads, totally entranced by the treasures that lie around every corner.  Valparaiso is home to huge numbers of artisans, poets, artists and writers, and it’s easy to see why.  Nowhere in the world has inspired me to draw, paint, write, weave and make music more than this place.  The city is creatively electrifying and, it seems, it’s catching.  I could quite happily spend the next four months soaking up Valparaiso’s infectious energy, but this treasure of a town has sparked an earnest need to discover as much of this continent as possible in what suddenly feels like so little time.