Lima and Huacachina

I don’t like sand. It’s coarse and rough and irritating and it gets everywhere.

– Anakin, discussing the merits of sand

A Brief Disclaimer

Since the last post happened, a minor tragedy has occurred. Andrew has reverse snow-birded and returned to Canada. He was absolutely livid regarding South Americas lack of crows and just could not tolerate it anymore. The main thing to suffer however will be this blog. I must apologize to the biggest fans of this blog, because my writing style doesn’t make nearly enough use of the word “savage” and its derivatives. Pair this with the fact that the stories will no longer be a mess of changing first persons with third person writing sprinkled in for good measure. I fear that the beloved tone of the blog will change, and maybe not for the better. But I will try my absolute best to maintain it. So Reid boldly continued to type savagely, fingers pounding the keys as though he were a 1000 lb silverback, while stress sweats rained down from his brow like liquid sledgehammers.

Lima

We flew into Lima, happy but deflated. This was the end of the road for Andy, and we subconsciously felt that if that fact went unacknowledged, it might just go away. We had come early to Lima, because we had an offer to cruise Lima’s varied regions with our own street-smart guide Ricardo. Plans changed however and Ricardo couldn’t meet us for a few days, so we posted up in Centro, a UNESCO world heritage site. Turns out nearly the entirety of Earth’s surface is a UNESCO world heritage site. Ricardo found out we were staying in Centro and was about one minute from calling an SOS helicopter rescue to extricate us. We didn’t match his level of fear regarding the situation and decided to stick around, nearly joining in on a potential protest for a true cultural experience.

Lima has without a doubt the best food we have come across in South America, so we made sure to forego all of it in favour of KFC. Savagely we slurped down the freshly minced chicken carcasses like a couple of lions after a long-awaited hunting success. Apart from eating KFC we went around Centro to see the buildings before heading to Miraflores area with Ricardo.

To complete the Centro experience I was very nearly completely devastated by a speeding motorcycle whilst crossing the street. Ah well, I suppose getting merked by a bike will be something that keeps me coming back.

Once we arrived in Miraflores, Ricardo wasted no time in having our stomachs pumped. He lectured us on the art that is Peruvian food and was completely shooketh that we had consumed KFC. We hung our heads as he scolded us repeatedly, claiming to be nauseated by our actions. I didn’t complain because the stomach pumping was covered by travel insurance and was thrilled to try new food. We had a line on a market that would sell us the choicest of foods, the only obstacle being the navigation from hotel to market. No dogs seem to have been employed in the city planning of Lima (little call-back action for my major whereisreid heads). Rather than meander aimlessly, the streets and avenues are laid out in a grid-type pattern. Craziness! Understandably Ricardo was struggling to locate the market, but like any fearless leader he was unafraid to ask for help. I am sworn to secrecy over how many times he stopped to ask directions, but let’s just ballpark it in the lower teens. Not too shabby.

But the food was well worth the wait. Ricardo opened my eyes and heart to ceviche and for that I am forever in his debt. Literally everything else was a delight as well, but I think eating kidney once is enough for this guy.

After showing us the food scene, Ricardo – being a family man – sprinted away from us at top speed as though he were Usain Bolt, chasing glory one last time. He had to return to Canada, which is a fairly long distance to run. Myself and Andrew turned to one another and declared in unison “Ricardo is much faster than I expected. Now what shall we do?”

Luckily enough for us, there was another local UNESCO world heritage site. Huaca Pucllana is the nicest set of bricks you’ll ever see (unless you are a signature landscaping client). To say there is a lot of bricks would be accurate, so I will say it; there is a lot of bricks.

Coming off of the high of Machu Picchu this place was not completely incredible, however when viewed in a vacuum it is pretty neat. These are ruins from the Limans, much before the Inca. They gave their bricks air gaps, to absorb shocks from the frequent earthquakes. SAVAGELY FASCINATING!

Just imagining laying all that brick made Andrew extremely tired, so we went to la playa to take a relaxing nap on the warm stones.

The rest of our time in Lima together was spent taking in the food, and reminiscing on the great times we had. We pined for the early days of Rio, soft and not yet battle hardened by 24 hour busses. We drank deeply from the cup of memory and sat quietly, smirking at one another and slowly shaking our heads, much like Lando Calrissian remembering the wild times of the first rebellion. Finally, I said “Adios you scruffy nerf-herder”, and that was it. Andrew was gone.

After my world stopped spinning I picked myself up, slapped my face with such force I needed concussion protocol and moved on. Putting one foot in front of the other I reached the Barranco region of Lima. It was here that I tried my hand at graffiti.

Seeing that I had reached the pinnacle of my new craft, I determined Lima held nothing more for me (except for a quick viewing of Star Wars). I quickly enabled boss-mode and slang the money required for a bus ticket straight into the desert.

Huacachina

Resolutely I strolled straight into the dunes of the Pacific Desert. I was prepared for death to wash over me, and I knew it would be slow and miserable. Tongue cracked and bleeding I had to constantly mutter to myself “you wanted this, you wanted this…”. I had always wanted to feel just like my favourite street-rat Aladdin, but hadn’t suspected that it would be the last thing I got to do.

I began to grow delirious, and the hallucinations crept in. The roar of an engine, the hoops and hollers of humans being mildly entertained, a tinge of green in the dune. But then I heard an unmistakable sound, one that jogged a primal memory buried deep: ” 3-2-1 FREEEEEEEEEEE SHOOOOOOOOOOOTTTTSS”. I had stumbled upon another Wild Rover.

Being near death changes a person, and I am no different. Armed with new clarity and perspective I took the opportunity to just relax in this oasis in quiet reflection. I am also armed with the attention span of a house fly, so quiet reflection did not last and soon I found myself in a dune buggy. Our driver was all serious, grabbing the wheel he furrowed his brow, preparing to teach the dunes a thing or two. The driver was a clear relative of Captain Stormy van Gerhard IV (another call-back, how lucky). Death-wishes must run in the Gerhard family because Baron Thunder McCrack (the presumed name of the driver) did his absolute best to send us hurtling down the dune.

The driver stopped and threw boards at us and simply said “slide”. Our group all looked at each other, wondering if this was the last moment we would see clearly with eyes free from sand. Coming to terms with our potential blindness we did as the driver said and slid. Led by a brave Australian and two embarrassing Canadians that had caused quite a scene the night prior.

I came back from this experience a changed man once again. This time the change was physical. I fear that my bodies many nooks and crannies will never be free from sand. Doomed to chafe it seems.

I extended my stay to be here for Christmas, among people. Its crazy how was you make and lose friends while travelling. I had some pals and we all planned to feast together. In the meantime it was sunburn city (my body looks covered in tattoos, courtesy of a haphazard sunscreen application), enjoying the pool and doing not much. I tried to complain, but found that I could not.

I had to fully dislocate my jaw to feast on christmas dinner. I definitely overdid it, and needed a walk to shake things down a bit. The meal was great, but I did miss the sticky buns and chats of home.

My graffiti skills came in handy, providing me with a free drink.

Fun night, but definitely time to move on. Luckily, I don’t have to meander through the desert this time. I’ll have a lift to Arequipa, very luxurious. My Aussie and Dutch friends are headed the opposite direction, so that just means the cycle starts again. This post is dedicated to my new best friends I don’t know yet; I want you all to know that you will never be Andrew. But I’d appreciate it if you tried, let’s have fun.

Conclusions

Capitalism sows the seeds of its own destruction. To err is to be human. Nothing is new under the sun. These thoughts are all original by me, from my reflective period. Clarity and perspective get boring quickly, and dune buggying is a terrific remedy. Go to Huacachina if you want, I’m no ones boss.

Lima: one quarter bowl of ceviche out of 2

Huacachina: Giant butt full of sand out of ….. 2 (somehow?)

Reid (with Andy in Spirit),

Currently savagely rolling in sand, awaiting Arequipa.