The Potosi Mines - Bolivia

When I read one description of the Potosi mines I wasn’t all that keen on visiting. It said they have been described as “the mouth of hell” and that visitors should be aware that a trip down into them is both physically and emotionally draining. However, out of sheer curiosity (Sophie’s, not mine!) we made the long journey south from La Paz. An overnight bus to pretty much any destination in Bolivia will get you in at about 6am. I have thought a lot about why they schedule them like this. Is it because some people are doing a long commute and need to get to where they’re going in time for work? Do the bus companies prefer to avoid the morning rush hour? Surely not, given that the bus terminals are usually on the edge of town. The trouble is, they often run ahead of schedule. The 6am arrival time clearly has some margin in it meaning that you’re likely to rock up at anything from five o’clock in the morning. You’d think a bus getting in early is a good thing. Well, with the kind of temperatures you get in the Bolivian mountain range, it’s not. You arrive to freezing pre-dawn temperatures (at least that’s how it feels) and have nowhere to go because there isn’t a café or a restaurant open.

This was the scenario for Potosi. A taxi driver took us into town on the promise that there would be a café open at seven in the morning. It turned out there wasn’t. He would have said anything to get the fare. The only action in town was a few folks at the market setting up their stalls.

Around eight in the morning the owner of a place called The Koala Café opened its doors and let in two shivering souls with heavy backpacks (us). We ordered some tea and attempted to thaw our bones.
Who should walk in half an hour later but Bart, our one-time fellow student at a Quito language school. He, like us, had also been travelling south. I was relieved to find he had shaken off the advances of my Spanish teacher – not before she had stalked him all the way to Lima!

Bart had things sorted. He had a hostel and had booked himself on a tour of the Potosi mines leaving at 9am, along with an Englishman called Mohammed. Feeling not so fresh after our overnight bus journey, we decided to join them. After all, what would have been the point in going for a shower only to enter a mineshaft half an hour later?

To enter the Potosi mines you need more than overalls, boots and a hard hat. You need gifts for the miners. The mines at Potosi, although no longer rich with silver or tin still contain around 10,000 miners and they fuel themselves on coca leaves and 94% alcohol – called Bolivian whiskey. The only other thing they appreciate being given is dynamite. What better present to give a drugged-up drunk person in a confined space?

Buying alcohol and coca and then dynamite a few doors up was a surreal experience. The dynamite, we were assured, would pose no threat without the fuse and detonator attached. Still, with all three thrown into a plastic bag, I treated it with caution. Off we went to the mines.

Our guide, himself a one-time miner before he saw a better life for himself in tourism, took us in and down into the depths of the earth. It is warm down there. He explained what the smears of blood on the walls were. Not that of unsuspecting tourists, but of unsuspecting llamas (or even more disgusting, llama foetuses) that had been sacrificed and offered to the Tio – their devil-like God, if that makes sense. For the mining world apparently belongs to the devil and in return he will give you up some silver or mineral in return. I think at this point I needed some coca or alcohol to appreciate the symbolism in full.

We came across miners from time to time. They were small people who didn’t say a lot. Being small is definitely an advantage in a mine, as you can imagine. It wasn’t so easy for a 6ft 6 Dutchman called Bart! However, we all made it down a couple of levels (there are nine in total) and survived some frighteningly rickety ladders in the process. Eventually we came to a corridor that even the heavily doped miners in front advised was too dangerous. They were propping up the tunnel with planks of wood and said it was too hazardous for us. We turned around and headed back, not before giving up some of the last of our dynamite.

Before entering the mines I had thoughts of what a terrible job being a miner would be and it seemed almost unbelievable that the UK had a large mining workforce as recent as the 1980s. Coming out of the mines I felt lacking in compassion for the miners. Perhaps that was due to an insight into their mindset – apparently it is an ‘every man for himself’ one where even murder has been covered up as an accident. Three years or so ago, it was also good business, when a new but short-lived seam of tin was found. At this time, miners could be seen driving about town in Hummers, which I would have loved to have seen. With a poorer market for tin and minerals and with the mountain not yielding as much at this time, it is not happy days for the miners. They believe that they will find more the deeper they go. UNESCO believes that the whole thing will literally collapse and is campaigning against the constant hunt for the legendary pot of silver, apparently hidden deep within the bowels of the earth.

We didn’t get to explode any dynamite within the mines. That’s probably for the best. However our guide had kept one stick up his sleeve, which once assembled and lit, we got to play with – it had a long fuse, don’t worry, Mum! He walked twenty feet away, planted it and we waited for the explosion. We waited and waited. They say don’t return to a lit firework and that must be especially so for dynamite. BANG! It was a deafening noise and a vibration of the earth accompanied by a puff of smoke. Yes, that was best done out in the open! Occasionally Latin America dishes up something that you just can’t do in Europe and this tour was definitely one of them!

The Uros Islands and Puno

I feel like we're really motoring now. Back to similar speeds of travel we achieved through Mexico when we'd be moving every one to two days. We've a little over a month left meaning there is no time to laze around. So, after the delights of Cusco and the striped pants brigade, we took a bus to Puno for a taste of Lake Titicaca on the Peruvian side.

The journey to Puno took longer than the six hours owing to a poorly bus. This was a first. I don't know how many miles we've travelled since the start of last October, but this is the first time we've had any bus trouble. Quite I feat I think, considering we've travelled in some pretty dodgy transport - none more so than the old US state school buses which are everywhere in Central America! But they got the bus working again and we limped on to Puno, albeit some two hours late.

Puno is quite unimpressive. Even with the vast Lake Titicaca in view, the town somehow maintains a drab appearance, mostly owing to the hundreds of terrible half built buildings littering the place. But you can't have everything. At least we were free to walk the streets without be accosted by restauranteurs or massage ladies. It is worth climbing to one of the view points high up. Everything looks much better from up there.

From Puno you can take boat trips to any of the three closest islands on Lake Tititcaca. It's the reason most people would venture to Puno. We had planned on a full day trip that would take us to two of the islands: The Uros floating islands and Taquile. However, owing to a terrible night's sleep - which I blame on the altitude (we're at 3,855m, which is higher than La Paz in Bolivia) - we only went for an afternoon trip to The Uros.

Our guide book didn't sound too thrilled about the Uros islands. The people there have constructed their islands from reeds. They use reeds for everything; their houses, their boats and as carpets. They live off the lake by fishing and hunting birds. But, so the book described, these days they have a secondary source of income: tourism. The book went on to say that the islands that you visit by boat are little more than "floating souvenir stalls". Cue the tourist trap alarm bells ringing in my head! But at the very least I was curious. It should be worth seeing the floating islands as you don't see them everyday.

We joined eight or so others and after about half an hour on the boat from the Puno dock, the islands started to come into view. I was reminded of that dreadful Kevin Costner film Waterworld, you know, the 90's big budget flop? This community had created land for themselves way out in the quite serene settings of the lake. There was a central canal and to either side were groups of islands. We stopped at one, got out and were confronted by, you guessed it, souvenir stalls. Luckily the awkward situation was broken by a guy who gathered us around a big map of the lake and started to explain about the islands and the people on them. He described how the islands are made, using the roots of the reeds and ropes and anchors and lastly, lots of cut reeds on top to make a soft floor. I was very glad of this. Not only was it interesting but it meant that it wasn't just us, the souvenir stalls and a bunch of people staring at us waiting for us to part with our Soles. Spend your money foreigners, they would be thinking, What's the matter? Are you too stingy??

Afterwards we were persuaded to take a reed boat to the next island. The onboard entertainment was three young Urovians(?) who gave us a three song performance, in exchange for a donation. The first song in Spanish, the second in Quechua and the third in English. In English we were treated to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, which when sung, they substituted the word twinkle for the word Gringo. Adorable!

This ten minute reed boat journey set us back five Soles each, which is extortionate given that you could go two hours on a bus for that. The next island was much like the same as the last but it had a restaurant. The Latin American family with us (who were generally lapping up the whole experience) went and had a big meal and as it was about four o'clock and we weren't at all hungry, we just sat and waited until they'd finished. It wasn't as if you could go exploring. The island was small. You'd need to hijack the reed boat.

The Uros experience was everything I had feared it would be. It was really cool to see the islands, plus I do love a boat ride, but the forced tourist trap thing will always make me feel uncomfortable.

Getting to Machu Picchu

If only I'd had my laptop with me the day we made the journey to Machu Picchu. My head was full of advice received from other travellers and blogs alike, and as the day unfolded, it all turned out to be pretty useless. I wanted to get on the blog straightaway and set the record straight. But it has had to wait until now.

The recent rain hasn't helped with the confusion as to what you do to make it to the most popular site in South America. But the train is up and running, and although not from Cusco, you can still take a two hour bus ride and catch it at Piscacucho. It will then take you straight to Aguas Calientes, for a hefty sum of course.

But what I want to talk about is the backpackers' route. The route where you inevitably end up busting a gut all in the name of saving a few pennies. Not the 'Inca Trail' - which I'm sure is good in its own way, but sharing a path with 1600 other people at any one time didn't appeal to me - I'm talking about the way to get there from Cusco, in a day, using whatever transport you can find.

Firstly there are buses that leave Terminal Santiago in Cusco at around 7am destined for a town called Santa Maria. That caused us no problem. The bus is slow of course and can take anything from 5 to 7 hours to do this leg of the journey. It will set you back 15 Soles. Not bad.

Once at Santa Maria you're in the hands of taxi drivers, for now at least. Your next destination is Santa Teresa, and buses do not go there. Instead you have to do your best to get a good price from the taxi driver. Ours wanted 10 Soles. He then drove like it was a stage in the RAC Rally. Colin McRae would have been proud of this lad. The price for getting a corner wrong though was not a possible collision with a tree trunk or spectator. That would at least give you a chance for survival. No, the price would be considerably higher. Most of the 'stage' was set high on a small shelf of the mountain with drops that must have been at least 500 meters, if not more. There's no coming back from a wrong turn there. But I had faith in our pilot. We needed a co-pilot, but you can't have everything!

So, after our hour and a half long dice with death, we arrived in Santa Teresa. The driver offered to take us further and after a brief discussion with the Spaniard and the French couple sharing the front seat (there had also been various passengers in the boot of this estate car along the way) we agreed to be taken further. Ten or fifteen minutes down the road, we came to a small gathering by the roadside: some other taxi drivers and some people selling food. Here was the end of the road. The driver asked for 15 Soles (seemingly forgetting the 10 we had agreed on) and as he had technically taken us a bit further, we all paid and he pointed out the next leg of our journey.

This next leg is something else altogether. You have to cross the river, the great white rushing waters of the Urubamba river, and the only way to do it is by zip-wire. This is something that you've just got to do. You can't turn around now, although surely there must be people who do. Attached to the zip-wire is a tray, kind of like an oversize tool box tray. You can fit two people on it at a time and once in, you're pushed out across the wide expanse, hoping that the pulleys will hold and that they've tied the other end well! As long as you're not too scared, it's actually an amazing experience.

Once on the other side, you climb down the bank and make your way towards Aguas Calientes. Well, actually you have to reach the Hidroelectrica first. They say you can't go wrong, it's a straight path. But it's not and you can go wrong. After about forty minutes of walking you need to take a left turn as you approach the big waterfall. There is a small red arrow painted on a rock, but it is easily missed. From there you walk through some kind of industrial site you feel you shouldn't be on and it was here that we stumbled upon a check point - the first sign that we were on the right path.

And then comes the railway tracks. The much-talked-about walk along the railway tracks to get to Aguas Calientes. We could have hung about for an hour and taken the train that leaves at 16.50. But in the spirit of building up a sweat and keeping the costs down, we set off walking the gradual incline along side the train tracks. In fact we really attacked this section of the journey, under the illusion that we'd be able to beat the train there. Of course, we didn't, but after two hours of determined striding, the light faded and I had to use the light from my camera LCD screen to see us through a couple of dark tunnels.

We arrived in Agua Calliente at 18.10 and had covered the ten kilometer walk along the train tracks in a shade over two hours. Not bad, but we were really going for it.

So, a quick re-cap;
07.00 - leave from Terminal Santiago on a bus to Santa Maria (15 Soles)
13.30 - arrive in Santa Maria and take a taxi straight to Zip wire crossing (15 Soles)
15.00 - arrive at zip wire and walk to Hidroelectrica
16.00 - arrive at Hidroelectrica and walk to Aguas Calientes
18.10 - arrive at Aguas Calientes and go in search of a shower and a beer.

Note, there was no stopping for lunch (I got a cheese sandwich from a lady at the zip-wire. The chicken sandwiches were to be avoided!) in this and no waiting for transport. The journey can be done in a day, but there isn't much room for any delays.

It was an enthralling day all in all, and I loved it. We could see the effects of the recent rains and the patched up railway line and the shored up river banks.  It wasn't the absolute breeze we'd been led to believe, but the scenery was spectacular and the unexpected twists and turns and the general wondering if we were on the right road made it a decent adventure - I just felt I should share it!

The Nazca Lines - Peru

We took a bus from Ica and though it was a relatively short journey it was particularly tough for me. A combination of an already dodgy stomach and a morning wine tour which included downing shots of Pisco meant I spent the journey staring out of the window at a point in the distance, breathing deeply and pondering as to what would be worse: sticking my head out of the window, or braving the festering toilet at the back which could turn even the most cast-iron of stomachs. I got through it with neither action necessary, but it was touch and go.

Once in a while you turn up at a place that is high up on the agenda of most people's itinerary and in most cases you know this because prices are suddenly higher. Nazca is one of those places. It is a small dusty town just off the Panamerican highway and when I say dusty, I mean you need goggles to walk up the street. That said, they're in the process of turning more of the dirt into tarmac and generally making it a more pleasant town centre. But all this really isn't of concern if you happen to be staying in a rather top-notch retreat just out of town - see vivalatinamerica.com

Moving on to the reason for being in Nazca, the Nazca Lines. The strangely precise sets of lines engraved in the dry earth making up shapes which include a spider, an astronaut, and a monkey with a very curly tail, have inspired various theories to be drawn as to their meaning. The Nazca people were around at 200BC (and were gone long before the Incas showed up) and you have to admire their work, whatever the purpose of it was. My favorite theory is that they created these geoglyphs so that they could then entertain themselves by flying over them in hot air balloons. How very decadent... and a slightly ridiculous conclusion, if you ask me! After all, it is us who are all about decadent things such as flying in the sky for fun.

Which brings me to the best part. If you want to get a good look at these lines, you really have to get in a plane and see them from above. It's not cheap, but it is definitely worth it. You can book your flight from many places in town, but the best thing to do is take a taxi straight to the airport at 7am or 8am and buy your ticket there. It's cheaper at US$60 as opposed to anything up to US$75 elsewhere. Then you have to pay about US$7 for the airport tax.

Anyway, enough of the money talk. The flight is an amazing experience. Our plane was about as small as you can get - I think it was a Cessna 172. It had four seats so it was just the two pilots and us - two pilots in case one suddenly becomes ill, which has apparently happened. It was very cosy. The pilots were as cool as pilots usually are (but not smug like commercial pilots can appear to be!) and it reaffirmed my desire to be one when I grow up! What a fantastic job.

Trying to forget the Cessna's single point of failure in having just one engine, we were soon zooming around spotting geoglyphs to the right and then to the left as the plane banked and swooped around - I can see why they provide sick bags. Even if there were no ancient lines to see, I would have enjoyed flying above the desert anyway. It is something you shouldn't miss and thirty minutes in that plane makes the trip to Nazca well worth it.

Huaraz - sun and rain, sun and rain...

The overnight bus from Trujillo to Huaraz did not yield much sleep, although I probably had more than if I’d really been trying. I’m finding it much better to assume that I will be awake all night as it takes the pressure off, and any sleep I do get is a welcome bonus!

We arrived in Huaraz at about 7.30am, and along with our new friends Jo and Nathan, we took up the offer of a free taxi to a place called Caroline Lodging – offering travellers a free ride after an all-nighter on the bus makes such good business sense, I’m surprised its not more popular.

So with their free lift and presence in most guide-books, it’s no surprise that Caroline Lodging is a popular place. 35 Soles ($12 USD) buys you a matrimonial room including breakfast – which they kindly gave us upon arrival with no extra charge – and you can get a dorm bed for about $5USD. The place has a great kitchen and dining area, a cinema room, arranges tours and does your laundry. The only slight drawback is that all these extras have to be paid for. Laundry is not going to be free but if you want to cook you have to pay an amount depending on how many people you’re cooking for. The same goes for the cinema room, making it the first place that has charged to watch their DVD’s.

Huaraz is a hub of a place for outdoor activities. Surrounded by gorgeous snow-capped mountains (which looked even better at sunset) reminded me a little of being in the Alps. But the place isn’t about skiing. Its about hiking and trekking and adventurous things like ice-climbing. – the latter offered to us by way of a knock on the door at 7.30am. For a minute I thought I must have agreed to something the night before, but then I realised the cheeky guide was knocking on all doors speculatively to see if anyone was interested. Climbing a wall of ice is really something you agree to do the night before. It’s never going to seem appealing when you haven’t even had your first a cup of tea.

Of course, it wouldn’t be Peru without some ruins to see. And that’s what we did on our first full day. We had spoken to some people who had taken on something a little bigger on their first day and had been beaten by the altitude. Given that the night before we had climbed 3200m from Trujillo by bus, immediately hiking up too much further didn’t seem like a good idea. No, far better to acclimatise a bit first by doing a 2 hour walk to the ruins of the Huari Empire (700-1000AD) at Willkawain. The ruins themselves are well kept stone buildings that were once lived in and then later used as burial chambers for the important folk of the day. We hired a guide, who happened to be nine years old, and he rattled off the information with great confidence, for a small sum of course. He was the perfect size for some of the tunnels we crawled into, the rest of us struggled a little.

However, for me, more impressive was being out in the countryside. Once we had seen the ruins, we spied a big cross on the top of a hill and decided to walk up to it. It was good to test out the body after a week of lazing on the beach, however at this time of year the afternoon usually spells rain. By the time we reached the cross the heavens opened and we ran back down for cover. Just a couple of hours earlier we had been suffering the heat from the strong sun and now we were soaked and doing our best to keep warm. Luckily the hostel had good hot showers so we headed back. By this time the streets of Huaraz were more like rivers.

Once clean and dry it was time to shell out a few extra Soles pick out a DVD. Anything without Jean Claude Van Damme would be perfect!

Chan Chan

On the road between Trujillo and Huanchaco is the huge ancient ruins of Chan Chan. A bit like the pyramids in Mexico, or the volcanoes in Central America, visiting lots of ancient ruins makes me become a little blasé and under whelmed at the thought of seeing another. In fact, I was tempted not to go to Chan Chan, but to break up our lazy beach days, we did. And I’m so glad we did. After all, it’s the largest adobe city in the world – to quote another statistic from our book – so it is bound to be good.

It is pre-Inca ruin, that was built and belonged to the Chimu, before the Incas kicked them out and copied there building style in Cuzco. Chan Chan is in great shape. It is not a group of stone foundations where walls used to be, it still has proper high walls meaning you can walk around inside an ancient city. Not bad, hey? And if you don’t want to take a guide, you can buy a leaflet, which describes what you are seeing each plaza and courtyard, and what they got up to in each place.

The walls have engraved pictures of birds and fishes that are in excellent condition - they´ve done a good job of restoring them. The whole site is under restoration at the moment as they are trying to protect and strengthen the walls and paths. And it is so vast. The city walls once contained palaces, temples and houses, plus rows of storerooms stretching 1000km up the coast where they kept their agricultural wealth. It certainly beats another day on the beach!

Cajamarca - agua, agua, agua..

We left Chiclayo for Cajamarca, a city further south and high up in the Andes. It was a long bus journey but then that's something that we'll be well used to before long. We didn't have a nice air-conditioned bus, but we had beautiful scenery, which was better to look at than the latest dubbed Jean-Claude Van Damme film they had decided to put on!

Cajamarca is set in a basin surrounded by green hills. It reminded me a little of Banos in Ecuador but bigger - plus it has a lovely central square. And it was wet. Finally the wet season is living up to its name. On our arrival, a short break in the rain allowed us to leave the bus station and walk into town. Water ran everywhere. I didn't see many drains but only oversized gutters along the sides of the roads where the water flowed like rivers. It was time to put away the shorts and flip-flops!

After popping my head in a few places I found a hotel that for 30 Soles (under $10) that seemed like a bargain - it came with a private bathroom and TV. Unfortunately when we returned to check in with our bags, the room we had been given had a bit of a security flaw. Above the door to our room was a large rectangular hole where a pane of glass should have been. The room itself was nearest the main entrance and it was all too easy for someone to shimmy over and take our belongings. It's a paranoid life I have to lead!

Still, no problems, the young girl working at the hotel showed us up to the only other free room which was on the top floor. She could only have been about twelve and getting two towels was hard enough, let alone moving rooms. Much better for security we took the other room. The next day however, the rain really came. It was a proper afternoon downpour that lasted a good few hours. Our top floor room however, was not the place to be. The roof wasn't really up to taking such a pounding of torrential rain, and one by one puddles started to appear. A few puddles here and there you can put up with - it wasn't exactly a five-star place - but when the drips started over the bed we had to again call the services of the twelve year old. Even she suggested we move back to our original room without prompting, security problem or not!

Earlier that day we had jumped on a last-minute tour to see what is said to be the oldest man-made construction in South America. OK, so the guide book has a statistic on every monument, ancient citadel and archeological site making you feel you shouldn't miss out on it, but this sounded pretty cool. Near Cajamarca there is a plain on a mountain range called Cumbe Mayo. Here we saw some of the pre-Inca channels that run 9km across the mountain tops redirecting drainage water from the mountain. It was presumably for irrigation and drinking water however we learnt of sacrifices that took place specifically to let blood into the stream - not so sure I'd have wanted to drink it! The construction of these channels dates back to 1500 BC and it is really impressive how intact they are, still carrying water. They also made us climb through into a cavernous rock and out the other side. Not entirely sure why as it was almost pitch black inside. I think it was once a sacred place.

It was good to be in the countryside and with the rain and the green surroundings we felt we could be back in the UK! Maybe we should high-tail it back to the nice warm coast!

Sipan and Tucume

Peru isn’t just all about the Incas, I’m discovering. I’m looking forward to Machu Picchu further down south, but in the meantime there are some things to explore made by some folks who were around a little earlier, namely the Moche people – 100-800AD. These guys were big on diverting river water into canals for irrigation and well known for using mold technology for their pottery, if you didn’t know.

 From Chiclayo you can visit the archaeological sites of Sipan and Tucume that have been excavated for the past twenty-five years or so. You can do a day tour that takes you to both these places, plus a viewpoint or two, but we decided to break it up and go ourselves. 

It worked out well this way. When we arrived in Sipan, one of the other passengers in the minivan happened to be a guide and offered to show us around for whatever sum we were prepared to pay. I’ve decided that getting a guide really is the best thing to do when you’re visiting ruins or tombs. Unless a place has been decked out with plaques explaining everything or your guidebook explains a lot, you won’t get much out of it without a guide. It also worked out as a bit of a language swap too!

We learned that there used to be a village on the Sipan site. But much like the Chinese at the last Olympics, they weren’t going to let a few peoples homes get in the way of the ‘bigger picture’!

At Sipan there are three pyramids, one formerly used for burials, one for ceremonies and the other for administrative work – literally bean-counting activities. The burial pyramid consisted of layers and, so far, the lowest layer excavated contained remains dating back 1800 years. All the remains, ceramics and gold have been moved to museums, however they have created detailed reconstructions of what they found for you to see. The Sipan site museum, although not containing the majority of artefacts found, is really impressive and I was excited to find that what they had kept the original 1800 year old remains for us to see – human and llama.

The Moche certainly gave their important folk a good send-off. Found in one of the tombs was a priest clad in gold, with some wives, a llama and a dog thrown in for good measure! A total of eight human remains were found in this tomb, presumably seven of which were sacrifices.. there to keep the priest company in the afterlife.

The following day we visited Tucume. It was a hot day and we arrived at the entrance to pay the admission fee. The woman behind the counter offered us insect repellent for an additional 1.50 Soles. Having not seen any mosquitoes since the border entering Peru we politely declined. Then on cue there suddenly appeared a dozen mosquitoes aggressively trying to extract some of our blood. We quickly changed our mind, purchased the repellent and slapped it on. It was a funny situation and I couldn’t help thinking the woman must have had a tin of trained mosquitoes and opened them with perfect timing!

Having already learnt about the pyramids at Sipan and a bit about the Moche people, we decided to have a wander around Tucume without a guide – not that we were offered one anyway! At the 1000-year-old ruins of the city here, you can climb up one of the pyramids and get a spectacular view of the twenty-five others, the walled citadels, and the ancient cemeteries. Although there is something slightly unnatural about the pyramids, you wouldn’t immediately assume that they’re man-made. Certainly the Spanish didn’t. They left them alone thinking they were just mountains and hills. But from a high position, and no doubt due to the excavation work already done, it is easy to see what the ancient culture created.

The knowledge and perception of these ancient cultures will keep evolving with each new find, and at Tucume they reckon that there is still much more to be discovered there. We were able to see some of the work in progress and it really is a painstaking process.

Cuenca

Having been here for two weeks, it’s about time I wrote about Cuenca. The main reason for staying so long, and it is a long time for us, is to learn some Spanish. Not sure if I’d mentioned before, but we’ve been surviving since Mexico on basic transactional stuff and slowly building on those skills, all in the present tense. The only person I could describe anything to in past tense was Sophie, in English, and she was more than likely there with me, rendering it pointless.

Anyway, Ecuador is a relatively cheap place to take lessons (oh yeah I did mention before the couple of lessons we had in Quito) and Cuenca is a great place to stay put. It is a very relaxing place. Even the noisy, ‘I’d run you over if I was allowed to mount the pavement’ buses are bearable. It’s “muy tranquil’ as they say here. Its also a very clean place, the tourist board is very helpful and you can tell that they have made an effort to make Cuenca a nice place to be. That said, it’s not the same as somewhere like Banos which has aimed to make itself the No.1 tourist destination. It is more genuine than that, and a place where I cringe if I hear someone bluntly speaking English to wait staff - it’s not difficult to make a little effort now is it? After all, even I knew how to order a beer in Spanish as a lad in Puerto Banus on the Costa del Sol!

The people here are all very friendly too, which is nice and refreshing for a city. (I’ve just realised how much harder it is to write a blog when we’ve been stationery for two weeks). The architecture, as you’d imagine, makes the place. They have a lot of churches and many buildings dating back a couple of hundred years, which have been beautifully restored and maintained. Many of them make wonderful hotels. 

Last week we met a couple of Brits on a bus who had been invited to a party hosted by the British Ambassador of Ecuador. Apparently it was a ‘get to know you’ kind of party and they assured us that all British citizens would be welcome, plus there would be free food and drink - which sealed the deal! We rocked up last Wednesday and, we found, it was more of a presentation about what the Embassy can do for you if you’re in any kind of difficulty. Not a lot, as it turned out, especially if you wind up in prison. They can ‘keep an eye on things’ in most instances, which is good to know! The presentation also covered all kinds of possible natural disasters typical in Ecuador and, with all the moving plates underneath and soft soil, there are quite a few of them!

Their main plug for the evening was an online system whereby you register and let them know that you’re in a particular country and where you’re staying. It’s actually a good idea, even if you’re just travelling through. It helps them inform your family or friends should something happen, and generally deal with a disaster should it occur. Given recent events in Chile, it highlights what can happen abroad, so I’ll jot down the link to their site; https://www.locate.fco.gov.uk/locateportal It doesn’t take five minutes to register.

Afterwards, the food arrived as promised and so did gin and tonics – obviously the national British beverage! We chatted to our fellow countrymen, met a lovely girl who is teaching English here and a splendid chap doing an internship for a magazine in Quito. All jolly good!

What else, what else. Ah yes, museums. You can’t beat a good museum and, apparently the museums here are hard to beat. We’ve been to the Aboriginal one. It was fairly small and you can easily tear around it if you’re not careful. But nonetheless, they have some fascinating artefacts, including an instrument made of hanging stones that made wonderful sounds when you struck them. I can’t remember what the stone was.

The main museum, The Banco Central, we haven’t been to yet. But it’s supposed to be impressive.  Perhaps I’ll add a paragraph to this after we do. I know, you’ll be holding your breath!

Guinea pig in Cuenca

Sooner or later it had to happen. We ate Cuy, otherwise known as guinea pig. It's a traditional dish here in Ecuador and if you walk down the street in most towns you'll see it, usually being roasted on a spit. Admittedly, it doesn't look a pretty sight. On the spit it looks like it is doing a superman impression, like its last act was to jump off a cliff but instead got caught in mid-air! You can still see its rodenty teeth, its whiskers, its sharp little claws reaching out in front, and its hairless body. It all looks decidedly unappetising, to me anyway!

Left to our own devices, I'm not sure that we would have tried cuy. When we get around to eating, I'm usually pretty starving, and the thought of eating something that may turn my stomach makes it unlikely that I'll plump for it. And it's not cheap, either. Apparently, your own cooked rodent will set you back about $20... and that's a sizable chunk of our daily budget.

But we weren't left to our own devices. We are studying at the Simon Bolivar language school, a particularly sociable place - they run free salsa and cooking classes in the evenings - and, I imagine to be even more inclusive, we were offered to join the students and teachers for lunch, a set menu of guinea pig. Well, why not? I thought that if anything, it would be good to get to know our fellow students and maybe practice a little of the Spanish we spent all week learning. As it happened, everybody pretty much spoke in English. Damn that universal language!

We walked across town in a group of about twenty-five or so, and settled in at a nice looking wooden-clad, cosy restaurant. Then we were offered a chance to view our meal before it had been cooked. At this point everyone whipped out their cameras (I'd foolishly left mine behind) went up and took plenty of snaps of the hairless and gutted animals. What a way to whet the appetite!

Ten minutes later dinner was served. Or rather, dinner fell on my plate. The waiter brought out plates of various guinea pig parts and as he was setting it down in the middle, a guinea pig head dropped in front of me. It was all rather dramatic. In particular, the German and the Kiwi opposite found this very funny. And it really was. I think it was the final nail in the coffin of my appetite. I forced myself to take a 'middle' section of the animal and, importantly, try the skin while it was still crispy. It was like crackling and perfectly fine if you're into crackling. The meat on the other hand was slimy, salty, full of small bones and in general there really wasn't much of it. Guinea pigs aren't really known for their vast quantities of meat. Once you've removed the fluffy fur, there's not much underneath.

The rather strange American woman next to me enjoyed professing how much she was enjoying the meal. Fair enough, but it was done in that annoying "I'm eating something cultural and isn't it great?" kind of a way. Trying the food in the first place is enough. You don't need to pretend you've found a replacement for a Chateaubriand!

Let's face it, there are plenty of other animals in this world that taste better than guinea pig. Perhaps someone should challenge me on that. And yes, terrible as it makes me, I am one of these people who doesn't like to think too hard about where the meat on my plate has come from. At least not at dinner time.

But this is all my own opinion. If you're in Ecuador (or Peru apparently) give it a try. You might like it! Oh, and by the way, I had intended to source a picture of an uncooked cuy, but it's just too disgusting. I'll leave it to you to do a Google search if you want to see gruesome images!