Well, finally I find the time and means to start this blog, 2 weeks after leaving Londion for Peru. I've got a bit of catching up to do...so here goes.
I'm currently sittling in a very crowded internet cafe in Cusco, there's Latin American rave music crackling away in the back ground, its dusty and theres lots of noise of traffic and marching bands, drums and brass instruments filtering in from out side. Its only 9am here, but everyday is seemingly fiesta day! Some days more so than others, but never the less marching, dancing and music are a big part of daily life...oh! and the letting off of very loud bangers and fire works at any time of day and night. I've just returned from my first trek and am feeling a bit sunburnt and stiff, with peeling nose and very chapped lips....Not nice. Still atleast I look like a trekker and not just a tourist.
Ok, back tracking a bit, I arrived in Lima just over 2 weeks ago. Its winter here so it gets dark early, about 6pm. Its hot in the day, but gets very cold in the shade or at night. My flight had come in via Madrid and was packed full of Peruvians. The atmosphere in the arrivals hall of Lima airport was one of celebration. The terminal was packed with friends and family of the arriving passangers, clutching massive bouquets of flowers, waving banners and banging drums. It was almost overwhelming. In amongst it all was a sign with my name on it. My taxi driver, pre organised, to take me to the hostel.
Lima, what I saw from the rattling, practically held together by twine taxi, is a dusty and hugely congested city. Theres no public transport infastructure other than big, smoking, diesel buses clogging up the streets and churning out fumes. The buildings were a mix of crumbling old colonial and half built modernist structures, every other one a casino, which sat uncomfortably next to each other along badly maintained avenues lined with the usual western mulitnational advertizing propaganda promoting life styles and products very far removed from the life I was seeing around me.
The hostel was an old colonial building in a nicer neighbourhood, apparently. It had a few bits of beauitiful furniture placed carefully on a well worn and lovingly polished parquet floor. High ceilings with intricate, dusty cornicing, slighly dodgy plumbing and very questionable electrical wiring. Still, I was exhausted and after chatting to a couple of fellow travellers, got my head down as I had an early flight to Cusco.