Part 5: Peculiar Peru

Peru was a very intriguing experience as our reactions and feelings about the country changed as drastically as its diverse landscapes and populaces did. The most reasonable way to describe our time in this very different country is, I believe, chronologically; hopefully you enjoy this retrospective rollercoaster ride.

Our journey into Peru began at the border crossing at Macara, Ecuador where an older Ecuadorian man gave us a most fearmongering forewarning about Peru, stating we should converse as little as possible with the locals who would all be trying to cheat us, to count our money carefully when exchanging currency as they would easily rip us off, and to be wary of how much garbage we would see strewn about, also thanks to the Peruvian peoples. This was not the first time a member of the neighboring country had told tall tales of the dangers of the upcoming country and we took the warnings in same indifferent stride. Instead our border crossing was processed by very friendly and amicable officers and our entrance to the tropical border of Northern Peru was an uneventful, pleasant experience. We were welcomed by helpful shop owners and border patrol officers, luscious forest greenery, overgrown ferns, flowering trees, floppy eared baby cows and goats frolicking about, and bright yellow lovebird parrot couples flitting around in sync.

However, very soon after our entry, the beautiful dense greenery quite abruptly gave way to the arid deserts of coastal Peru, where the climate, the landscape, and even the people drastically changed. Here, the country was near destitute, the buildings all semi-demolished, buildings with faded paint and no signs of new construction anywhere. The people, few and far in between, walked around like ghosts as well. Initially we chalked it up to border towns tending to be more run down and overused just from the nature of their location, however this barren feeling lasted much farther than the border, taking us a day and a half of continuous driving before we reached anything different. The people of this region, encompassing towns of Piura, Chiclayo and Trujillo all the way down to the highway junction of Casma, were the most startling to me: though everyone was very kind and helpful toward us, with no sense of malice or ill-intent emanating from them, they all appeared exhausted and empty of spirit, reflections of their equally empty surroundings. Children stood alongside their parents in the streets, literally falling asleep while trying to sell whatever meager goods they could offer to passing drivers. Unlike every other country we had been to in Latin America so far, there was no sound of laughter or constant upbeat music, no color from flowers or plants, no plants period, not even any animals. There were no signs of life in the small highway side towns.

The only types of people in any of the larger cities, such as Piura or Chiclayo, who had smiles on their faces or energy in their steps were those who were clearly of atleast middle class income, carrying suitcases or backpacks and wearing retail store bought clothing. In Trujillo, the beachside shop scene was Well established for tourism, with prices reflecting first-world currencies and businesses revolving around tours and paid guides. However as soon as the beachtown segment ended, we were back to the desolate, crumbling towns of the impoverished region again. It was very clear that in this region, money was the only way to any sense of comfort or happiness, a STARK difference from the many many villages and small hamlets we had traveled through in other Latin American countries where happiness was present with or without monetary wealth. To add insult to injury, the highways ran between endless fields of trash on both sides mixing in with the desert sands. Apparently after the massive earthquakes and fires in the 1970s, many sections of Peru, especially this one, had been left to fend for themselves while resources seemed to have been allocated to other more lucrative cities and districts. The cars were either shiny new high end models or barely intact, rusted relics of the 80s. This particular region of Peru was quite a heartbreaking sight to see, and now having seen so many of the other beautiful parts of the country, it saddens us even more to see this community abandoned by its leadership.

After driving through that, our own spirits began to feel as muted and lifeless as our surroundings, until we reached the region of Casma and a small fishing bay village called Tortuga. We decided to stop here by chance as there were some restaurants still open and the possibility of a camping spot to sleep for the night. As it turns out, we made a wonderful choice indeed. The scenery had already begun to change as we neared this area, with the natural desert beauty finally shining through, endless silky sand dunes to the left of us, and the distant shimmer of the ocean to the right. In Tortuga, the locals were also the bayside restaurant and hospitality owners, all visiting each other's eateries, chatting about whatever topic over drinks, and generally enjoying the cool evening sea breeze. When we asked about camping in our car-tent around the area, everyone was more than happen to advise us of the best spots around the bay, reassuring us that a local police guard would be patrolling all night and that nothing dangerous ever happened around this small fishing town. One of the couples at the restaurant even offered us their wifi password after hearing our travel story, without us even asking. Some young kids, maybe teenagers or in their early 20s, who were staying in another beachhome near us brought their mattress out, threw it onto the pebble beach and began blasting their favorite music with a bottle of wine while sleeping under the stars in front of the ocean. Later in the night, some other kids took their ATVs out for some nighttime fun riding up and down the surrounding sand dunes. It was such a beautiful, and much needed, change in the spirit of the people and the location from before. We loved their youthful enjoyment of the simple pleasures offered here and were finally able to have a restful night ourselves.

The next morning, we thanked our unofficial hosts and continued our drive, now heading Eastbound away from the coast and toward the mountain ranges of central Peru. As we drove inland, climbing higher and higher, the desert sand dunes turned into tall rocky mountains with the beginnings of plant life in its scattered cacti.

As fresh water sources began to appear, the plant growth and underlying earth of the mountains continued to progress, now more reminiscent of the great mountains of Zion National Park in Utah. Soon the streams became small rivers and the drier plant life began to turn to flowering trees and wildflowers, the soil changing from rocky brown to a rich fertile brick red clay color. Now the increasingly dramatic mountain slopes were covered in dense, fruitful farming plots and the small steep roads were lined with clay brick huts and filled with the faces of flourishing indigenous communities.

Here, the dressing was noticeably similar to that of central Ecuador, the only difference being the height of the women's hats and the small decorate accents stitched onto them. It would appear that these hats were of great traditional importance in this region of Ecuador, Peru, and Bolivia based on what we saw in our travels.

These self-sustained indigenous people's spirits were as fertile and welcoming as the lands they worked, the elderly so active and filled with happiness flashing their toothy smiles at us, the children chubby faced with pink cheeks and bounce in their steps, and even the many many animals filling the streets frolicked with positive energy. The mountains were adorned with groves of eucalyptus trees as tall as the slopes they were growing from, lining the road, hanging their branches in the wind and filling the roads with their intoxicating eucalyptus scent.

Fruits, flowers, and animals are Mother Nature's signs of life and we were ecstatic to be among them once again.

In this Huaraz region was the stunning Huascaran National Park, a region of glacial mountains and some absolutely marvelous scenery to behold. There were many many different hikes to try out and so we decided to camp out near the trailhead of one, which ended up taking us up the windy muddy farming roads of a small village outside of the tourism city of Huaraz. While Huaraz was perfectly fine, bustling and busy with and insane network of tiny hilly cobblestone and cement roads, we were very happy to reach an outskirt village with no traffic and only terrain to contend with. Here it began raining, giving our car a much needed carwash, and we continued to climb saying hello to the many passing villagers, most of whom were heading home with that day's harvest or herds of grazing goats and cows. There is something so reinvigorating about being amidst a group of people so in tune with the earth they live in and off of as the farmers of South American countries are. Simply being around their energy brings a sense of being grounded and at peace with one's surroundings.

The next morning we headed to a different glacial lake called Laguna Rocotuyo, an important lake for the local community both spiritually and environmentally. We climbed a steep tortuous mountain road for what seemed like forever, winding amidst towering black stone clifffaces and granite block slopes rising around us, until we finally reached a clearing with a small parking lot (for local tourists).

We walked less than five minutes from the parking lot to a most grand scene before us: in the center was a vivid turquoise blue opaque lake surrounded by the most beautiful snowcapped mountain peaks of the Peruvian Cordilleria and a glacier inching down from the tops of the mountains down to its bittersweet melting point where we were able to hike to the face of the glacier. The lake itself was surrounded by beautiful seemingly delicate lavender wildflowers and other plantlife. The entire scene and the hike were simply exquisite.

After we took in as much of these magical lands as we could, we began our slow descent from the mountains back toward the coastal deserts. As we exited the Huaraz region, the cultivated mountainsides gave way to a most enchanting terrain of much flatter, wider grasslands with thin streams and rivers adding reflective linework to this olive green knolly canvas. It appeared like a sort of combination of Iceland's grassy knolls and the rolling hills of Table Mountain near Oroville, California. It reminded us of pictures of Scottish highlands.

We became so transfixed on this beautiful scene as the setting sun cast a most elegant bronze hue over the quiet hills, turning the thick cloud cover from white and gray to a lovely rose gold, that we did not notice how quickly darkness followed. We had nowhere to safely camp so we had to break our own rule and continue driving at night, at which point we were gifted with a thick, impenetrable fog to add to the pitch black darkness of these highlands on these curving downhill roads. Where Peruvian drivers are normally ruthless overtakers on the road, this night we were all brothers in arms, with 4 cars including ours driving slowly behind a giant bus, the leader of our convoy. It was a very inspirational experience as no one involved in those couple hours needed words or gestures to indicate that we were in this together. And just as quickly as we had banded together, as soon as the fog lifted and streetlights reappeared on the roadside, the convoy dissipated into individual drivers again.

The next morning we continued our drive down through the now beige desert mountain ranges toward the coastline. The endless sand dunes were occasionally interrupted by wide sediment rivers coming from the fertile valleys, traveling westward to join the ocean. The mountains covered in soft sand rose and fell as we continued the drive, with small brick building communities scattered up and down the sandy slopes.

We soon reached the outskirts of the capital city of Lima and immediately noticed a drastic difference in infrastructure and development of this major metropolitan city compared to the aforementioned coastal regions up North. Here we drove from a barren desert directly into what could easily be mistaken for a major city in the middle of Southern California. It was abundantly clear where the country's funding is redirected the most.

From Lima, we continued onwards to our actual intended destination, a small oasis town called Huacachina. This town was literally built around an oasis lake in the middle of a sand dune desert that is locally known as the Sahara of South America. Here, there is no cultivatable earth beneath the sands, only mountains of every shifting sand dunes and the vegetation surrounding the oasis. We decided to come here and let ourselves simply have a play day, spending our time going sand-sledding and riding up and down the dunes in a dune buggy with a local guide. We watched the sunset over these beautiful dunes then headed down to the oasis town to enjoy some drinks with the local youth getting drunk on their weekday karaoke night, all culminating in a lovely night of sleep under the stars in our tent. A rejuvenating change of pace

The next morning, we packed up our tent and continued onwards along the same highway headed toward the Peruvian-Chile border at Tacna, open to any interesting stops along the way. Peru did indeed have plenty of curiosity striking sites, mysteries of the desert tribes. The first one known as the Palpa and Nazca Lines, was this series of huge lines drawn from very specific starting points which included entire figures drawn into the sand that are so large they can only be appreciaetd from the skies. These were somehow created using the people's knowledge of mathematics and astronomy at that time: approximately 450 years BC. In addition to these lines, there were many many sites of geoliths, which are giant patterns made of stones that can also be appreciated best from a birds eye view.

We also visited a less known archeological site known as the Chahauca Temple. The keeper of this site was the sweetest, toothless elderly man with a voice as soft as his heart, who explained to us that this temple covered a distance of 24 kilometers in total and was crucial to the survival of the community that lived by the small oasis just a few kilometers away. In this temple, they would store harvested crops (beans, lentils) and other supplies and also perform rituals to help the community survive the endless cycle of 7 good years and 7 bad years.

From here we continued driving through burgundy rocky mountains, absent greenery, but abundant in mineral color beauty to the left, and azure stunning oceans to the right, sliced down the middle by the silver mirages of the highway we drove on. We stopped in a small town and ate Caldo de Gallina, a typical local dish that essentially resembles a Ramen bowl and was delicious. Once we had our fill, we fell asleep camping on a rocky outcropping overlooking the ocean, lulled to sleep by the sound of wind and waves in the uninterrupted darkness.

Our final stretch toward the border was filled with lovely sights and even lovelier people in the many fishing villages along the coast. One notable vision was a massive delta at the town of Ocono, another oasis town where a massive freshwater sediment river mixed with ocean creating an unreal appearing division in the ocean water color with the pink of the sedimented water staying nearly separate from the turquoise blue of the Pacific Ocean waters. the oasis town itself was an agricultural painting with such colorful golden patches of land separated by a emerald green rows of trees and bushy plants.

As we continued our drive, we passed through communities of chili growers and seeing the large patches of red chilies lain out to dry in the Peruvian sun reminded us both so dearly of India where our grandmothers and womenfolk dry out masses and masses of red chilies the very same way.

We then came across a lagoon out of nowhere filled with flamingoes and while it was a beautiful sight to see from the ground level, Prakash set his drone to flight and caught magical footage that we will most definitely upload at a later time.

As sunset neared, we found another small fishing village called Vila Vila, where we stopped to eat and camp on the beach. We unfortunately accidentally drove off the concrete path into the soft deep sand where our jeep got stuck, but to our relief, the very same couple who had fed us dinner earlier, came running out with bottles of water and even called other locals to help out. Eventually with the help of ropes and a local lorry truck, our jeep was pulled out and we were able to sleep soundly the rest of the night. We were so grateful to all those who pitched in to help us out in the night.

The next morning was our final stretch of the Southern Coast toward the Peru-Chileno border town. As if to ensure that we bid Peru a goodbye with a beautiful memory, we passed through a series of oceanside mountains with the most peculiar mineral patterns of bright white patches atop the otherwise normal jagged rockies. It gave the most surreal appearance of snowcapped mountains despite being a hot oceanside desert. We loved the "see you soon" parting gift given to us by this beautiful country.

THE RETURN:

We returned to Peru months later via the same city of Tacna to continue our adventures through Peru to new regions: the Southwestern lake town of Puno, high up in the mountains and geographically shared by Peru and Bolivia, followed by the mountainous district of Cusco, where we would seek out the infamous Machu Picchu.

Upon reentering Peru, we were once again greeted with some less than ideal experiences with locals, namely fraudulent currency exchange folks. Although the experience was an incredibly frustrating and angering one, we appreciated the police officers' genuine attempt to mediate the "he said-she said" situation. But on a journey like this, the miserable moments are just as valuable as the many many marvelous ones that outweigh them. For me, it was a much needed reminder that unfortunately not everyone will choose kindness over their bottom line.

Our route back into Peru, this time went inland and Northeast bound to get us to the central mountainous regions of Puno and Cusco. The beginning of the route was a tortuous ascension into an almost claustrophobia-inducing desert canyon range that then opened up into dry foresty mountains with dramatic peaks and valleys. Through the mountains, the road to Puno, Carreterra Mazocruz-Tarata, was a death road, a narrow single lane dirt-gravel road snaking around the edge of steep drop off mountain sides, complete with reckless local drivers. To balance out the adrenaline rush of the drive itself was the stunning beauty of the 360 degree landscape. These scenes are brilliant in that one cannot decide which direction to look in as they are all spellbinding. To one side we could see the multicolor striped rainbow mountains, to the other the green and blue layers of mountain ranges with their deep valleys, and further on, the vast olive green and golden grasslands.

Oftentimes the road less traveled is a bit terrifying but in return brings the gifts of new sights and feels. Still I think one time on that road is enough for this lifetime.

Finally we reach the high altitude city of Puno, the Peruvian side of the great Lake Titicaca, which is a behemoth lake spanning both Peru and Bolivia. This lake houses its own culture and community that revolve around its natural resources and mystical beliefs inspired by the lake itself.

Puno is the small mountain town, but on the lake itself are the many floating islands, of which the most commonly visited one is Uros (closest to the mainland). These islands are incredible, built entirely from the Totora reeds, these large hollow buoyant reeds found in abundance throughout the lake. At the base is a mud layer upon which they spend several weeks layering these reeds in a crisscross method up to 2 meters high. Next the neighboring islands are linked to one another by rope and buoy systems underneath the water surface to keep them in place or else the islands will float to entirely different segments of the lake depending on its currents that day. As one of the guides cheekily mentioned, "if we do not use the anchors, we go to sleep in Peru and wake up Bolivia."

It was a beautiful place to experience, however, as with many many increasingly popular places, the tourism industry has dominated the culture of the city and even the small island communities. While we loved the unique beauty of Puno and Uros, the overwhelming tourists traps and scam-culture left us with a bitter taste. From here we continued on toward the region of Cusco to fulfill our bucketlist item of Machu Picchu.

Cusco and its practically "rite of passage"-esque destination, Machu Picchu, were much much worse in terms of tourism driven inflation and disingenuity, but we would have felt incomplete traveling all the way to Cusco without spending atleast one day hiking around the infamous Machu Picchu. The entire design of the visit itself, including monopolized transportation to and from, was such a financial drain for us, that after this spot we decided to abandon the "bucketlist lifestyle." Having these places that "one MUST visit" creates a sort of pressure to both see and forcibly enjoy a specific place, and while the place itself is clearly a gem (otherwise why would anyone go in the first place), the industry aspect of it becomes so exorbitant, so quickly, that the deeper significance of that spot is swallowed whole by the chaos of profiteering. The scam of tourism has become so deeply ingrained in the towns housing these world-famous sites, that the experience becomes an unspoken battle between the local community and its tourists. This overwhelming untrustworthiness such a culture breeds also does a massive disservice to any locals in that region who are, in fact, honest and well-meaning. Therefore, for Machu Picchu, here are our photos. I don't have much else to say about the place itself. It was definitely a beautiful feat of engineering, though.

The drive back to Lima via Huacachina was long and winding and beautiful. Here we passed through small hilltop villages filled with the heartwarming toothy smiles of babies and geriatrics. We passed through welcoming waves of hello as we drove through unassuming towns and once again experienced the kindhearted culture true to central Peru now that we were far away from Cusco. This time, as we drove North back toward Macara, Ecuador, we took a different route through the valleys, where we saw the happy carefree community members of the Northern farming communities to leave us with a pleasant final memory of Peru.