Upon arriving in Tacna, Peru´s most southern city, I immediately noticed the difference in the economic situation of the two countries. Many people were grubby and dressed in old tatty clothes. The streets were less kept and many of the concrete houses (not unlike Turkey) were unfinished with steel rods poking out the top, a bit of a mess. However at least we got onto a bus rather smartly and headed off to Arequipa, there was nothing to see except desert on the way, but we did have some very interesting foods offered to us through the windows of the bus from time to time when we stopped.

Arequipa is lovely. A beautiful plaza with surrounding buildings, loads of good coffee and cake shops and helpful Peruvians all over the show. A couple of these helpful Peruvians, helped me to part with some cash for a tour to walk into the Colca Canyon. I didn´t really know what I was getting myself into, only that Nina had recommended the place to me. My book said that to really appreciate the canyon a hike would be best, so damn it, after searching about 8 of the 100´s of tour shops I settled on a 2.5 day trip for US$35. The agency was run by a sort of mafia of the family, being that sister sold the tickets, you stayed at Papas hostel, and ate and drank at brothers cafe/bar. But I had a good feeling about them, and got a present of earrings from sister and invited to the disco for a few drinks by the whole crew! My first Peru disco experience... latin pop - they have dance moves to a whole bunch of songs and when they come on in the nightclub, the whole place forms lines and does the moves (remember the macarena) it is helarious to watch, but that is probably what they think when they see me trying to do salsa or samba!

Well, I wasn´t exactly dancing down the canyon, but that could have been something to do with the 5 hours sleep and all the pisco and wine drunk the night before playing drinking games till all hours with my tour group and brothers of The Family. Still it was down for 2.5 hours so it wasn´t too bad going and we descended 1200 meters to 2000 meters above sea level from 3200. I felt quite chirpy, but my legs had turned to jelly after only an hour, and I was relying on momentum faith that my legs would keep moving the correct way to the bottom. The canyon/gorge was really stunning, it was beautiful day, and the scenery truly made one feel fantastic to be alive. Short break at the river at the bottom, and another 30 minutes up and along till the very welcomed lunch break. Here I tried the fruit of cactus - Tuna - absolutely delicious, who´d have ever thought you could eat cactus fruit and that they would be juicy and thirst quenching, mmmmmm. We set off an hour later going into a very old looking gorge, the place had a presence and lots of hanging dried moss. Till a steep zigzag up which was to be our test, for how long it would take us to get up the canyon tomorrow morning. Sweet mother, I just about died, although I ascended in just under 16 minutes, not bad timing, I just about died on the way up, I was breathing so hard at one stage I started seeing spots and got dizzy so had to stop to calm down before carrying on. Well I thought if tomorrow is all like that I´m surely gonna die. There are farmers and indians living down in the gorge and we passed by two towns and many indians with their mules and or donkeys. We arrived at the oasis, and it really was an oasis just as the sun was leaving the valley, and a quick dip in the fresh water pool, washed off all the dirt, dust and sweat. Staying in the bamboo huts for the night, was cold, and brief, we had to get up at 3.00am, so that we could do the climb up (1200 meters remember) before the sun came up and everywhere got unbearably hot. Melanie of our group had done something to her knee ligaments, so opted for hiring a mule to take her up. So Stefan and I headed off at 3.30am for the big climb. The first hour went okay, I took the lead as I was slower, and we only took a quick breaks for water and chocolate. The next hour was more differcult, my legs had become so much heavier, but we kept a slow but steady pace. The torch we were using went out after the first hour and we had to go by moonlight, which was okay one way, but the other I had to use my stick like a blind person to feel the way. After two hours, I had to take a break, my legs were just heavy and it was harder to breath, when one of the locals came past and said, its not far, only 20-30 minutes, which stirred us on, and true to form, 25 minutes later I broke the top, whooped for joy and almost cried from the elation. It was not even 6AM so I´d climbed 1200 meters in less than 2.5 hours, I was very damned proud of myself, and felt incredible. ...although I could hardly walk now. Futher highlights of the Colca Canyon area were the very colourfully dressed locals and their awesome embroidered felt hats worn different way depending on their marital status. And of course the huge and ugly condors sweeping up the air drifts.

Although I saw and heard the protests in Arequipa, and we were slowed by one on our way to the Colca Canyon, my first real pause because of the protests happened on my bus ride from Arequipa to Puno, by Lake Titikaka. The bus left at 6.30am, pretty much on time. Local bus, cheap bus, 5 hour ride - supposedly. However four hours into the journey we had an unexpected stop. There were a bunch of farmers on the road, they had strewn sharp rocks accross both sides of the highway and were burning rubbish and having a good old yack in the middle of the street. We were the first bus to hit this stop, and after an hour of negotiations, we managed to pay our way through with donations, for a kilometer of moving rocks only to hit another bigger and more adamant bunch of farmers. This time we were not getting through, various measures of negotiations, moving rocks, shouting, grouping, didn´t get us any further ahead, after two hours. I decided my bladder would no longer hold and headed accross the railway tracks to an abandoned roofless mud shack, that had obviously been used for this purpose several times already. As I did the spread and squat, I heard the buses start up, just my luck, whipped up my pants, and ran back to the bus, last one on, to find that we had been told that you could use the country roads to the back of the farms. And so off we went, big buses and tanker trucks flying of down little dirt roads, not knowing where on earth we were really heading, but 2 hours of rolling farmland later we finally made it to our first destination and then Puno, 10 hours after starting. They were striking over the privatisation of water.

Eager to get out on the water of the lake myself, I took a two day tour of the Islands on the lake out from Puno. First stop the floating islands - okay a little commercialised because of the tourist dollar, but none the less amazing. These people live on islands made of reeds that are literally floating on the water. Anchored so they wont float off, they make everything from the Totora reeds, houses, boats, I even ate reed! Then three hours boat ride out to the island of Amantani, where Sam and I met the family we were going to be billeted with for the night. Lunch of potatoe soup, and seconds of yams, potatoe and an egg. Then a hike up the highest hill to see the sacred temple of the sun there. The lake is at 3800 meters so the 20 minute climb was quite exhasting. Beautiful sunset though, and interesting to learn about the indigenous peoples who lived there, there farming and society. More potatoes then the fun part of the evening, we were allowed to get dressed up in their traditional clothes to go to the local disco. White blouse with beutifully coloured embroidery of flowers and birds, green woolen embroidered skirt, another woolen skirt (mine was blue), 5 inch thick woven belt wrapped around, then topped off with black woolen head scarf with the same colourful embroidered designs on each end, making us look much like nuns. It was hilarious putting the clothes on, which made us look at least 10 kilos heavier, but very warm. Off to the local disco where young boys did there best to belt out peruvian tunes, while we danced with the locals, huffing and puffing with every step at that altitude, and a special touch was that they sped the song up to double speed just before the finish so as to really knacker you out. Old and young of the people from Amantani kicked up their heels for a few hours. It was a very special experience. We slept soundly and warmly under thick woven blankets that looked more like they should be rugs on the floor, but very warm :o) Breakfast the next day did not consist of potatoes, but deep fried flour tortillas, delicious. Off on our boat that decided not to go for a good half hour, we went to the next island of Taquile, beautiful day, beautiful island but far too commercialised, and too many childern asking for money from the tourists. Amantani where we stayed was far more authentic and the people less assuming.

Back on solid ground of Puno, I decided not to stay around but to head for Cusco immediately. It took a bit of work to get a bus, as a lot of the buses were not running at night because of the strikes and protests. However I did manage to get a seat and a ticket, only to find that I was sat next to a horrible little fat man that decided to sit with his legs spread wide enough to rub against mine and stick his hands in his hands in his jacket pocket which meant that his elbow was stuck in my waist. My immediate thoughts were of many unpleasant expletives and rude things I could say to him, but thought metal would be more appropriate, so war began and inclined my seat so at least I could get my arm under his, you do understand that this little man was using all his seat and at least a quarter of mine and as I was on an 8 hour night journey comfort was imperative. After an hour of steel and determination and him slowly moving ever closer, I decided to plead to his dignity and asked him, ´Please, that this is a long bus journey and could he sit more to his side`. His reply was for me to move to the spare seats, but these were to be filled at our next stop, trust me I had already tried that option with the ticket guy. Well he stopped moving ever closer but left his elbow in my side all night. To counteract I fidgeted a lot, and even took my boots off at one stage, and after the same socks and not washing for two long hot days of walking they were truly ripe. I hope he suffered, I had to eventually put my shoes back on as I was feeling guilty for the other passengers and having a hard time coping with the stench myself.

Four thirty in the morning was not a good time to be arriving in a city without hotel reservations, but I was also in no mood to be had, so when I asked for help and was presented with other information than the stuff I wanted I got quite short with the man trying to help me and he in the end called the hotel I wanted and helped me with the taxi. Man I am happy that I can speak some spanish some times. But lesson learnt not to arrive that early in morning anywhere without accomodation organised. However I was safe inside Hospedaje Milenio, Cusco, and had a wee sleep. Safe, I say, from the outside that is, but the hostel, was decidedly cheap for Cusco but electric shocks in the shower and sparks from the wall sockets along with trying to trick you out of a few soles (peru currency) here and there at every turn, meant I had to keep my wits about me. Cusco the city itself didn´t impress me as much as I was expecting, but an afternoon tour of the cathedral and acheological sites surrounding the city was enough for me to realise how important this city was and is today for the Andean people. What did impress me though was the array of menus of the day for 2-3 soles (40 - 50pence) for soup, meat and potatoes or pasta and a drink - yippee budget time.

I had heard it could take some time to book my Inca Trail trek so I got to it straight away and asked the hotel for help, they as it happened worked with a tour agency (of course) and offered me a too good to refuse package of 4 days trekking 1 night in Aguas Calienty (town at end of trail) for US$128 - that was almost within budget, thanks to my Thailand bought student card. Was a bit dubious as to whether the fake card would work but have had no problems yet. So on Saturday 31st May at 7.50am I was picked up and toted off with a bunch of other excited tourists to Km82 where we were to start our trek. In our group we had nine tourists, 1 guide and 9 porters/cooks/bottlewasher/tentguys. Now I could write for days about the 3 days to Macchu Picchu along the Inca Trail and the ruins themselves, but to save you from exhaustion from having to read so much let me just say that it was an amazing few days of my life. Being surrounded by the Andes, the clouds whipping up the valleys, the elation of climbing to over 4000 meters above sea level, the cloud forest with its mosses, bizarre trees and stunning orchids, humming birds and the andean bear, the spiral stair cases and natural stair tunnels, the temples and ruins along the way, and just the feeling of spirituality and well being the whole time there. Wellbeing except for the last day when I was slightly hungover, exhausted and somewhat aloof, but still felt absolutely astounded by the city of Macchu Picchu as it lay before me and I wandered through it feeling the stones, trying to imagine their life before. The setting is stunning amound the steep mountains protecting it, I didn´t want to leave, but at the same time, needed to get clean and sleep in soft bed, bruises on my thighs getting worse every night sleeping on the ground.

Heading back to Cusco, on the 5.45am train to Ollantaytambo, I thought I might as well wander the ruins there while I was in the area. Another impressive site, but without a guide or any explanation, my imagination was the only direction I had until, my stomach flipped and the only direction I could even consider was that one, directly to the nearest bathroom. I´d had a bit of an odd stomach for days, but nothing to worrying. It would sort itself out, however sorting a ride back to Cusco was less easy as all the tourist buses had left and there wouldn´t be another till 8pm. Not to worry a helpful local girl explained that I must get a taxi collectivo to Urubamba, then from there a bus to Cusco. The taxi (mini-van) was packed as full as a sardine tin, but far more interesting. 50-60 year old fully wrinkled mafia man infront of me, family of indians in full traditional dress with amazing head dresses of felt and beads and safty pins, who each had a slightly deranged look about them, I couldn´t help but feel that it was to do with in breeding (you breed within your family to keep the social lineage in the old days), and pleasantly, Fanny, an 11 year old girl that decided she would try her two english phrases on me. Seems all peruvians learn from the same book and the first lesson is `Where are you from'` `The capital is .......` But we struck up a conversation and she explained to me about the site around, and how the person who got on the bus half way was a `maricon` homosexual, well actually he was very obviously a transvestite and after being called an idiot a few times by the old woman in front of us, they were cackling along in no time, and it looked as though he might even be accepted within this community. The next bus to cusco was far less colourful but still interesting enough with all the campasinos (farmers) mean and woman getting on and off along the way. Getting back to Cusco I changed hostels to be on the safe side, and stayed only to out with my trek mates for a celebratory drink and a little salsa dancing. My first real night out for a purposeful drink with friends since I´ve been away and it was fun and worth it. Hungover, the next day I couldn´t wait to leave Cusco, to get away from the kids wanting to clean your shoes, or sell you postcards, or for you to take a picture and pay them, bye their tour, etc etc. After the quiet and serenity of the Andean mountains, being back in Cusco was too much, too noisy, too in your face and I hoped on a night bus to Nazca with a smile on my face and passenger beside me that had the decency to keep to his side of the two seats.

So here I am in Nazca, I have been here for just over 12 hours, and I have been up on a four seater plane to view the amazing Nazca lines etched into the surrounding desert and pampas. Been to the museum with fantastic amounts archeological finds in the surrounding area and reconstructions of the tombs and mummies from the Nazcan peoples, been asked out on two dates within half an hour and finally caught up on my diary. It is nice to be away from the tourist town of Cusco and back to something more like the real Peru, far more relaxing and interesting to wander about.