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Huaraz,my 40th and Huancayo before I leave Peru
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Before catching the train to Huancayo for my final weekend in Peru, I wanted to visit Huaraz ,a town in the Cordella Blanco(the central Andes), where I was to "celebrate" my 40th birthday .
But first I needed to buy a train ticket. The train service from Lima to Huancayo has started again, this been the highest single gauge railway in the world that is until the one in Tibet was built, so now it claims to have the highest single gauge railway station in the world. Personally, I think to have a train in Peru is a claim in itself. But it only runs on the last weekend of each month. So I didn´t want to risk turning up on the day at 630am to be ticketless and since I could find no info on the internet on how to buy a ticket, well, logic, nay common sense would suggest going to the train station and buying the ticket there. Which I did, that is after finding a taxi that knew of the train station. This was my first hint of troubles ahead. After 12 months of living here in Peru , have I learnt nothing though about Peruvian logic. it is an art to master and I'm still a pup. As I was once told; if you have a problem in Peru and can't find the solution, then you don't have a problem. How easy is it to forget such valuable advice? My first mistake was pointing on the map in Lonely planet to where I wanted to go. I'm assuming people can read.......but after getting the pronunciation of my vowels correct, my fatal flaw here, we head of to Los Desamparados station. Only to find it closed and yep, they don't sell tickets there. I ask the two security guards where one goes to buy a ticket. A look of blank comprehension should have warned me that after they studied my map for ten minutes , that I was going to be going in the wrong direction, which when I arrived on the map where they had pointed too, I was. I returned to the station, even asking a policewomen on the way where one buys a ticket to Huancayo on the train...she naturally replied, the train station. You see, the logic is working magic again. What you need is luck and I found it in another security guard who told me where the ticket sales desk was at the Supermarket. Of. Course, that's where you buy train tickets, I found the Wong and brought my ticket, and so set of to Huaraz, the Cordella Blanco of Peru
I was planning on hiking the 4/5 day Santa Cruz trek the day after I arrived ,been the 18th September, my 40th. I had my reservation confirmed, and enjoyed the glorious view from the front of the bus as we passed into the mountain range. Thing is, I ate the chicken for lunch on the bus service. And 10 min later my stomach was doing the cork screw. NOT AGAIN. By the time I arrived at the hostel, I was there in time to be sick. Lady Luck had just walked out on me. I waited for the guide to turn up two hours later and to explain the trek to me, only to tell me instead that the trek I was booked on had infact left that morning and he didn't have another one as yet. You see, logic, reservation, planning, it's just not there. I ventured into town quickly, wanting to be on a trek, wanting to be in a tent in the mountains on my birthday. I ignored the pain in my stomach and after searching, found my guide and trek and paid $120 .HURRAH. I went home to my hostel to celebrate my new reservation that night not knowing if I should sit or kneel on the throne. There's diarrhoea and then there's this. I was wiped out and come 530 am there I was getting ready for the trek, still possessed with my plan of birthday tent and stars. I´d spent two hours asleep, the rest throwing up et el! When they picked me up, the two Finnish girls booked on the trek with me, looked at me and said I looked ill. No sh*t Sherlock. By the time the mini bus had spent six hours up a dirt track to the start point I'd thrown up another three times, and was still sitting on the throne and badly dehydrated, that I knew for sure. When we arrived at the statrt point, I sat in the combi and said I wanted to go back. I needed to go back. So I spent another four hours returning to Huaraz, with a group of trekkers who'd completed there trek. I was now shattered and full of fever and had an American telling me how wonderful it was, and what I was missing out on!! By 530pm I was in bed, shivering and kissing goodbye to what was left of my 40th. By 630pm I was in the Doctor´s waiting room.
There the two ladies ahead of me in the que and they enquired as to my illness. Even with the receptionist, they found my plight amusing, and then proceeded to ask what I thought of Peruvian food, what had I tried, did I like guinea pig, marinated raw fish, pig, etc etc. I'm English, and politely answered the questions until after 15 min I said I was really ill from food poisoning and this conversation wasn't helping. They laughed, but were glad that I liked Peruvian food. God forgive my lies that night. But it a sure fire way to dent the pride of a Peruvian by knocking there food.
The Docror looked at me , made me stick out my tongue and the spatula stuck to my tongue. My mouth was as dry as Ghandi´s flip flop. She said I needed to drink 4 litres of water and through the consultation, she shouted the advice to me, louder and louder. I can hear. I can speak Spanish I told her, but please don't shout at me. She found me funny too. She said it was salmonella poisoning. I agreed I've had it before and recognised the bodily reaction. She wanted to inject me for my fever. I watched her suck the medicine up the syringe, air and all, as the male receptionist appeared by my side to hold me in the chair. My confidence was shrinking at this point. I didn't need a gorilla to hold me in my chair for an injection, unless she was a poke n prod to find the vein type of quack. As he held me down in the chair, she was searching for my and I was flicking the air out of the syringe. I didn't need a fever to sweat in those delicate 5 mins as she injected me. With my prescription, I brought my medication and flopped into bed. It just goes to show, there are some thing in life you just can't plan, my 40th being one of them. And I lost $120 on the trek too.Bummer.
After 3 days I went back to the doctor. My turn to shout for stronger medication. With relief the next day I went up the mountains to a lodge and spent five days trekking. I met Gavin and Carle and we spent three fab days hiking with talks of Yorkshire pudding. And then I met Roshi and Adele, two ladies full of fun. Those four wonderful people made my birthday week something to remember. To you guys I'm so grateful for the laughter. You see, The Way Inn was in an idyllic spot, but run by three volunteers who thought it was there home, where guests are a pain in the arse and just got in the way of there lifestyle. I've never complained before, but such was there attitude to life so bad, I've sent reports to the travel guides and South American Explorers club too. They were quite the most unpleasant people I've ever met, with an attitude so lost up the own backside they couldn't see how pathetic they looked . It's also good to be 40 and be a member of the grumpy old git club too!!
After the beauty of the mountains, I brought food for the bus journey back to Huaraz and had people watch me in jealousy as I ate my fresh sandwich and slice of apple pie. Huaraz surprised me. I could buy a cup of Chai tea there and fresh brewed coffee. As a place though, it`´s still recovering from an earthquake 30+ year ago that killed 50000 people. They´re still rebuilding the Plaza de Armes. So goodbye to the snow capped mountains of central Peru and onto ..........
THE TRAIN JOURNEY.
I arrived an hour early for the train and found that I wasn't the only excited nut on the train. A New Zealand couple where sitting opposite me in the carriage and the bloke and I struck up what can only be described as a conversation reserved especially for train enthusiasts. Anoraks I think we're called. Now I thought I was excited, but he'd Google earthed the train line all the way from Lima to Huancayo. The look on his wife's face said it all, and she wasn't going to join in the conversation. But he lapped up me reminiscing of the journey on the sleeper in Argentina , with my take on Gary Grant and Eva Maria Saint. He was a fan of Eva too. At this point the wife wasn't even looking at us and I went outside and joined the other excited kids of ages 40 to 60, taking photos of the train and the carriages. Is this what happens when I turn 40; strange new hobbies. Actually, as I a child I lived in the countryside next to a train line and would run to the bridge when I heard the train, so I could wave at the driver. Some things in life don´t die and this won't either. I stood in the buffet carriage which had the later half open on all sides to take in the atmosphere and so we left Lima . I was the only one in that carriage, waving at the kids waving back. Families came to their door steps with babies in arm, waving at the train. It's still has magic. Going through the outskirts of Lima , all for an hour or so looked no different from the poverty surrounding the tracks on the train out of Delhi . But as the green fields appeared and the mountain came into view, more people came into the buffet bar. Lured by a free Pisco Sour, which I missed out on as I'd been there all along and not received my ticket to get one. But I ´m not drinking so wasn't fused. Honest! But when the Peruvian version of SAGA walked in and 15, 80 year olds, downed there Pisco and then danced away for the next two hours it was hard to decided what was more fun, the passing beauty of glaciated mountains or 15 OAPs going for it big time to salsa. They were in my carriage too, and after lunch, all one could here was the snoring of tired feet as they'd danced out. The views were wonderful though ,
and as we made our way into Huancayo that night we attracted the boredom of kids and two well thrown stones managed to shatter one of the windows in our carriage into a million glass stars. It sure did wake up the ladies of SAGA.
I hadn't made a reservation for a hostel in Huancayo, but where I did want to stay, there just happened to be a rep on the train for said place. She phoned ahead and got me a dorm bed, just like that. I also wanted to go on a trek on Saturday, to which she told me it was possible and we'd sort it out at the hostel. Now here we go again with life in Peru . I'd heard this before, so was I surprised after waiting two hours at the hostel to be told that there wasn't a trek the following day. I still waited two hours with expectation though....always the gringo loco. So I booked a tour of the valley for the next day instead, El Valle del Mantaro, turned out to be more like the Valley that tour operators forgot. I'd learnt this in Viedam, that when there are no tour operators, there is nothing to do. In Cusco there are 1000´s. In Hunacayo, well there are three. It's all about finding the balance, but heck, its fun and of I went in a combi with 4 Peruvian couples and me. The bloke in front of me was a dead ringer for the child catcher from Chitty Chitty bang bang, and every time he looked at me I couldn't help it, I was nervous , he was scary. Wearing those glasses that magnify eyes 25x there size!!!
We went down the valley and did the customary alpaca cloth weaving stop. Then to a town whre they make jewellery. After the demonstration of melting metal, I asked the smith if he could sharpen my pen knife. when he´d finished it was blunter than we'd started, but then again, I had doubted he made all the exquisite jewellery that was for sale out front to what he´d actually showed us, but hey, where trying to make a tour of interesting places to go in the valley. Next was a milk factory. Now, with Peruvians been immensely proud of there food, this was a highlight. Fresh ice cream, butter, cheese and the good old teeth rotting dulce de leache. I joined in and brought an ice cream. I thought it looked like vanilla and can only describe the taste as something close to toe nail. Now I don't actually know the taste of toe nail, but if it was, this was it. I wasn't eating any more and was been watched as I thought I'd secretly dumped my cone in the bin. Next to the ice cream shop was a huge stand selling honey, honey derivative products and more. I never knew honey came from cow, but there it was. Next was the lake and a boat trip on what I can only name the boat as the "kiss of death". It was so windy the oarsman missed the landing point and nearly had himself pulled into to the drink at the same time, before jumping back on board and joining us again with a look of surprise and relief.. I didn't pay my 2 soles fare until he'd stirred us back to dry land, much to the amusement of my fellow valley hopping travellers. My ice cream cone incident now forgotten as they laughed at me talking of the beauty of dry land.
So lunch at the trout farm. And a cerviche of trout that was to die for. WOW. Then the tour of the trout farm itself , where they sold more honey and honey derivative products. They have honey producing trout too as well a cows. Amazing. Could I by a single trout product anywhere, smoked, rolled or kippered? No. But tonnes of honey. The final stop was the convent of Santa Rosa de Ocopa . And what a beautiful place too.
We were shown around and I felt quite sad to see such an extensive collection of books, dating back to 1707 and further, in such poor condition, yet all the priests robes of gold and silver were all kept in glass display cabinets, with love and attention. I asked the monk or rather said that the books of the ancient world, hand written and painted needed more love and attention, like the clothes of priest past. He looked at me and agreed, but I don't think I got his blessing. I like been 40 and finding myself.
On the way back, we had kid throwing stones at the minibus, but they missed the window this time. Well, I was wondering what Huancayo would be like on a Saturday night and was getting a rough impression. There aren't many gringos in Huancayo, that's clear. I saw a lot of kids drinking on street cornesr before going clubbing, and had the obligatory shoulder shove from youth whilst walking down one of the streets. This is why I was beginning to think poor Huaraz that had so much beauty destroyed by the earthquake, whereas, well, this ugly place needed an earthquake. I asked a street vendor where was safe for a gringo to go. Now that was a confusing question. After 5mins and a shrug of the shoulder, I was directed to the club called Rock n Pop. So of I went. I´ve told you I'm a gringo loco and I found the club, paid my 8 soles and ordered a cold beer and watched the local night life develop. Rock n Pop turned out to be regatron. Ops. I wondered how long i was to wait for Queen or soemthing from the 80´s, until, soon I was offered cannabis...err, no thanks. Then two kids introduced themselves. Drunk on the local Pisco hooch, and the ensuing conversation was difficult, especially when the one told me he was from Argentina , and then started poking me about the Maldives . I told him I'd never heard about it. I was only saying to someone the day before, that as much as I love Argentine, the one topic of conversation to avoid for an Englishman is the Falklands . So I told my new best chum in the club, that I'd heard of the Falklands though. That made his eyes change colour and I quickly said that they'd had there revenge on the football pitch ever since and soon we were laughing again. I was working out my exit strategy, which they kindly found for me. They asked me to buy them a beer each, to which I said no. I'm a volunteer and not rich. They left in search of another gringo, maybe, but I was the only one in that club and left to go home in the following 5 secs I had to escpae.
Brave or just stupid, or wild at been 40. It´s all fun. The train left Sunday at 6 pm, which is a shame as the journey back was in the dark. Still saw a lot of the surrounding valley as we left, but with only 30 passengers this time, we were all piled into one carrriage, the other five empty! Everyone else had taken the bus back at 2 pm, three times cheaper and twice as fast. But, there was something about that train journey back , through the andes at midnight, on the tracks, trundling along. I woke up at 5 to catch the sunrise as we came into Lima. By the time we arrived, i was covered in specks of diesel oil/soot. My orange jacket having a ncve irratic polka dot effect. Bless!
So , so now for Chile. Adios Peru
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| 5. | Huaraz,my 40th and Huancayo before I leave Peru - Huancayo, Peru Sep 28, 2007 (  51 ) |
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