Ica – Hostel El Huacachinero

Ok, Huacachina Oasis is a good place to go, a great place to hang out and a wonderful spot. www.elhuacachinero.com
I must recommend the bus company again, Cruz Del Sol, the company really works like clockwork. We got to Ica on time and we got off the bus as planned. What was missing was our pick up, Mr. Eduardo. Here we are with our luggage, waiting for Mr. Eduardo, which we think is just late. After 15 minutes I have the bus company agent call Mr. Eduardo and with many excuses he picked us up 15 minutes later. His brother, who was with him in his truck, speaks English but when they talked to each other in Spanish I got the impression that something went wrong. With Peruvian pride and machismo involved, it is best to let it be. We arrived at the hostel El Huacachinero and it is a wonderful place; for Peru standards. We received a substandard room for the 1st night, now we changed into a better room, because Mr. Eduardo did not make reservations we had to do it ourselves. We arrived about 8:30 pm and wanted only to sleep that first day after having a supper at the oasis. The place is nice. All did work out in the end.
I say oasis because that is exactly what it is. A small lagoon is formed by an underground river in a valley of very large sand dunes. The water comes to the surface and forms a small lake. Around the lake are a few houses and hotels; now totally serving tourists. Plant life adds to the charm of the place. Birds flutter about, the sun beats hot during the day but it cools off rapidly when the sun sets behind the high sand dunes, cradling the oasis. This oasis is only 5 KM from the town of Ica and it is unique. We are staying at the hostel that is run well, has an inviting pool, talkative parrots, a bar and restaurant. I would recommend it to anybody.
For our first full day we took the city tour of Ica. The hostel arranged for a driver, William, (Guillermo) tigretours_15@hotmail.com to take Carol and I to show us Ica. Our first stop was the chocolate factory of Helena Chocolates (www.chocolateshelena.com) and their product is delicious. Most of their export goes to the U.S. The area around Ica grows a lot of pecans and Helena puts them into her chocolate products in a unique way, yummy! We bought only 6 candies but oh, Yum!
After that stop we made it to the Museum of Ica known as “Institute de Cultura” or Museo Regional de Ica. My first impression was that it was substandard but it was not. In a few rooms the museum creates a good overview of what the cultures of the people that inhabited Ica thousands of years ago was all about. First traces of people in this area are 5000 BC. We paid for an English speaking guide and while her pronunciation was terrible I did get a lot out of her tour. We saw elongated skulls, the beauty image at the time. Mummies that were bound hand and foot and who represented the living sacrifices made to their local gods. Archeologists found them in the dry sands around Ica. With hands and feet bound, they were left sitting in the sand as a sacrifice to their respective gods. I shuddered when I thought about being the victim or like they believed the sacrifice. Even small children were sacrificed, even fetuses. Living then was quite brutal. We learned about the images on the pottery, the deity of the condor, the jaguar and the snake. The bottles that held the potions that made the shamans visit the underworld, or the world above or just any world the drug induced state would take them. The religious believefs of the Paracas or other local tribes, the original inhabitants, were totally different from anything we know today. I became aware of nuances in their pottery found in the sands around the city of Ica. The guide was very knowledgeable; I just wished I could speak Spanish well enough so I could take the Spanish tour, extracting all the wisdom the guide was willing to share. A great place to visit and I recommend it to anyone willing to study the ancients of Ica.
After we finished the Museum tour, we again met William plus he had his nephew Fabricio in the front seat, an 11 year old young man, willing to go along for ride with his uncle. The school children are off for 2.5 months from the middle of Dec. until the End of February. It’s their summer break. Fabricio was visiting family on his vacation. So now our tour consisted of 4 people. Our next stops were Bodegas (wineries) that made the Peruvian drink called Pisco. The first well known winery, “Tacama” had a tasting room, yet after tasting their local white or rose wines, I decided there must be a better place around.
So off we went to visit a more local, less known place and we bought Pisco Puro, 47% alcohol content, clear liquor said to be good if you have a cough. Well, Carol’s cough did get better after just one drink. Her eyes bulged a little but she forgot to cough when she tasted the drink. Potent stuff, this Pisco! The famous drink is Pisco sour and it adds sugar, lemon juice and beaten egg whites to the drink. This drink goes down easy and has a kick as well. We bought a bottle of the premix without the beaten egg white from the winery as well as one bottle of Crema de Pisco, containing figs as a flavor enhancer. It tastes like Bailey’s Irish Cream. We are all set for Peru now.
The last stop was a bodega called Lasso, around for over 250 years and it bears all the old pots and looks of a successful bodega. Well known by local folks it is normally not on the list of places to visit. William was a very good guide and his knowledge of the local places is amazing. We stopped to take pictures of workers in a cotton field, picking cotton. They earn 15 to 18 Soles a day for picking cotton for 10 hours in the blazing sun. That is about US $6.-to $8. – per day. There were many children among the cotton pickers. Peru is indeed a poor country. And it showed Fabricio how some of the other children spend their summer vacation. Fabricio learned from this trip, William our guide learned from us some new English words and Carol and I learned the most, I guess on this day touring Ica. A good town, I recommend, it, take William as a guide and say hello from me. He remembers me as Hans.

National Marine Sanctuary, Paracas, Peru

The tour started at 7.30 AM and Galinna, our guide was on time as usual. Happy as always, she had her driver take us to the center of town and we had breakfast at a local stall. Not much to choose from but the freshly squeezed orange Juice and a pressed cheese sandwich did us just fine. The town of Paracas just woke up, too. It being a Monday the trash was especially heavy from last Sunday night celebrations. Not a special Celebration, mind you, but a ton of trash on the ground, in the ocean, in the few flowerbeds, basically strewn all over. We saw it Sunday when we visited the “Party” on the boardwalk. On Sunday night the noise level was huge. The party was on with the music blaring, the paper cups strewn and the beer flowing freely. We left the beach area on Sunday in a hurry, for folks like us downtown Paracas, the little it is, was just in bad taste. We ate Sunday night at a recommended place and the food was fair. Best in town, it was said. Well, it was the best we could do.
Today, Monday the clean up was on and the boat to the Marine Park, a biological Sanctuary for marine animals, and a National Park of Peru was well organized. A lot of people showed up, I did not know that so many tourists were about. My guess would be about 400 people total. We stood in queue to get in rather smallish boats. 20 people to a boat the loading was a bit chaotic but we finally left.
First stop was the Candelabra, a huge figure dug into the sand on the side of a hill, facing the Ocean, marking what ? Nobody knows who carved this sign into the sand but speculation runs from a marker by an early statesman to mark the territory, to a sign carved by Pirates who used the harbor of Paracas as a hiding place, to a sign of a lost treasure map, etc. Nobody knows but the ideas run wild.


A bit farther after running the boat full speed across the wavy ocean, we arrived at the group of Islands that now house the Marine animal reserve. The Ballestas Islands are small, some even tiny and are covered in wildlife. Tens of thousands of birds and animals use these bits of rocks as a sanctuary. Sea lions, just finished having their baby cubs, now in the mating season are using every beach available. Penguins are walking about this far north as if they too, were on vacation from the cold in Antarctica. We saw cormorants, flocks of sea gulls, and so many different avian species that I cannot list them all. On the way back in, we saw 3 or 4 dolphins diving through the waves. This visit was very impressive, full of life, a good adventure in a small boat on the ocean. I liked what I saw, it was very educational. We took too many pictures but it was fun. The bird droppings, Guano, are now only collected every 5 years. Years ago they were literally hundreds of yards thick. Guano is an excellent fertilizer and wanted by most professional gardeners. Even today, after just 5 years the Guano is knee deep all over the rocks.
When we returned to town we had a trip booked to the National Reserve of Paracus, recommended as an addition to the Marine trip and we just waited with a cup of Matte de Coca until the next trip started. We were passed on to Carlos, our guide for the next 4 or so hours. We left in a small bus built in the 1960’s. The engine ran well but that is about it. Just outside of the town of Paracas is desert. There is nothing in this desert. No plant life. Nothing! I have a dilemma here, I find it difficult to describe nothing. The temperature climbed into the 90’s during the day but cooler breezes off the ocean helped. Yes, it can get hotter. There is no humidity. This is the driest desert of the world. The only road through this desert was built using clay and salt. Since it never rains, the salt works as a great binder and makes the clay hard. Paracas mean ‘Sand Storm” and yes, swirling hot winds create sand devils visible for miles. The mix of flat nothing to hilly nothing to mountainous nothing is startling. I am not used to this much nothing, I took some pictures yet it was hard to find anything to take a picture of.
Along the coastline the recent earthquake of 2007, 7.6 on the Richter scale, shook some huge blocks off the land and what was a formation called The Cathedral is now just a pile of rubble. Immediately at the line of ocean and land the winds are fierce. Condors come to visit, I am told, to vacation here and eat the placentas of the sea lions and the carcasses of the baby seals that did not make it. I did not see a condor, however. We walked around like tourists, herded by Carlos and the sand blew into the bus. Very fine it irritates the mucus of the nose, the throat and I am sure you digest it, too. Carol has a cough; which makes me wonder of the people that live here have silicosis. This area is rough on ones system.
We stopped for 1 hour lunch at a former fishing town which lives exclusively off tourists now. A hustle place where even going to the bathroom costs you -.50 soles and you get 3 leaves of toilet paper. Hand washing is a bottle filled with water, the sink has no faucets. Don’t ask me where the residue goes. I don’t want to go there. This town is immediately next to a small cove on a beach and everybody is encouraged to take a dip in the water. Young people sunbathed, many went for a swim, and little kids played in the sand. Carol and I sat in a shady spot and waited it out. No lunch, no swim, no ice cream; all to the amazement of the hustlers that tried to sell us everything.
We got back to town, paid our invoice at the hostel, picked up our luggage and got a ride to the bus depot; we are now off to Ica. Good bye Paracas, it was a stopover but not a place I would recommend except to see the Marine Sanctuary.

Paracas

We are progressing slowly thru the maze of Peru. Not having any transportation, we need to take buses and/or taxis to get anyplace. Yes, we made arrangements for the bus to take us to Paracas, the first step of our journey, but how do we get to the bus stop. Where is it? I thought I would just tell the taxi driver when I hail a taxi at 6 AM the next day but again, help comes from Francis. He orders a taxi to pick up us in the morning to take us to the Bus Terminal. Yes, the taxi was there in the AM, just on time and good thing, too, because when I looked along the normally busy street, there was not one taxi is sight this early in the day. We would have been in a pickle without help from Francis.
Just like at an airline counter, this bus terminal has a place to check in the luggage. The seats Francis booked were in the First Class section and we were served breakfast. Imagine, being served food on a bus by a stewardess. We left on time, exactly as it spelled out on the ticket, at 7.30 AM. I read that each Bus has 2 drivers and stewards. The drivers switch every 4 hours. This bus line, Cruz del Sur (www.cruzdelsur.com.pe) is run like an airline. The seats are comfy; they recline and have foot rests. Everything is clean and neat and organized. I was pleasantly surprised.
We arrived in Paracas on time and were greeted by Galinna, a friend of Francis. She had a car waiting and in no time, after reclaiming our bags we were at our new hostel. A bit away from the town on a dirt road the place is like a hotel; secure, quiet at night, an inviting pool and the room we finally received has one big bed, a large shower and serves us well for 2 nights. Galinna waited patiently for us get settled in and then took us for a 25 minute walk along the dirt road into town. Paracas is not St. Tropez, nor is it Monaco. It is a town someone decided to make into a tourist attraction. A Marine National Park nearby serves this purpose as Paracas is the jump off point. The town itself was very poor just a few years ago and it still shows in many places, especially away from town as we are. The main road still gets flooded during very high tides and the resulting puddles are a nuisance to traffic, especially on a dirt road as you can imagine. Yet some very wealthy folks have their summer place here. Houses near the water are so rich that security guards are hired full time to watch over them. A hotel, the Paracas Hotel, is so guarded, so secure, it is like entering a Bank. The town itself has just started to renovate. The board walk is almost done with some nice restaurants, but still a lot of hokey business stalls and cheap plastic things vendors are trying to sell to make a living. I had to turn one boy, begging for money, physically away from Carol. He was about 12 years old and should know better but when you are poor you take chances, I guess. He never saw me coming. The temperature was so hot that we just walked one big round thru town. We did not stay in town. Walking in this heat, even if it is only for about 1 hour is not for a born Canadian like Carol. We went back to the hostel and just rested. Dinner was a sandwich we bought earlier and I believe the mayonnaise on the sandwich turned bad. I had high fever last night and even after one long night of rest Carol convinced me to take a day of rest. We had a trip booked with Galinna and when she showed up this morning, we told her to forget it. We postponed our trip until tomorrow. Yes, these things can be done in Peru; you just postpone things until manana. I feel fine now; let us see what manana brings.

A bus ride in Lima

It is recommended not to stay after 5 PM even in Downtown Lima. We could have taken a taxi back to Miraflores, made our life easy but I wanted to try taking the local bus even if we get totally lost. Francis told us we need to take the ‘A” bus and he showed us on a small map the approximate location of the bus stop. The first trick was to find the street; we walked for a while in the general direction of where we had to go but got lost on an intersection which formed a star pattern. Since there are not always street signs, or the streets change names even on a straight away, we had to take a chance. We arrived at a place where a lot of buses stop and I asked a conductor in my limited Spanish if he knew of an “A” bus. He asked me if I wanted to go to Miraflores, I said yes. He said I am going to Miraflores, hop in. I thought, well, let’s take a chance and Carol and I stepped in and did not even find a handhold before the bus took off like a jack rabbit. Imagine a smallish bus taking off as fast as possible, heading for the most left lane on a 3 lane road after being parked on the right; in heavy traffic.
I could not find a seat nearby but saw that the bench in the back of the bus was not occupied. With some effort, Carol and I arrived at the back bench only to find that the seat in front of us had a broken backrest and the person sitting there was making the seat lean partially into the bench. We managed, somehow to find a comfortable position by moving our legs in awkward positions and holding on for dear life.
Meanwhile, I hear the conductor yelling ‘Miraflores’ to any person on the street. I understand Camino Royal and Miraflores and I am relieved because it shows we are on the right bus. Even if we just get to the suburb of Miraflores we can always take a taxi. So now I need to watch for familiar buildings, signs, something I remember when I walked around Miraflores trying to find the beach, the bank and the travel agency before I worked with Francis.
This bus ride is controlled chaos. Each bus has a driver and a conductor. The conductor stands in the doorway, half hanging out. He jumps on and off the bus when needed. The conductor calls out to the driver if there is a large hole, enough for the bus to fit into and the driver will make a right into this hole just because the conductor said so. The fit is tight. There is a communication between conductor and driver only they understand. They work as a team. One relies on the other. Even though the conductor is not at the wheel, he drives the bus, too. His eyes are everywhere. He yells to find passengers in the street, he watches the traffic patterns, tells the driver when there is an opening someplace, he collects the fare, in this case 1.50 Soles for the trip for each passenger. I only had 2 Soles for the two of us and he talked to me but it is hard for me to understand. He said give me just a little more but he did not say the exact fair. I gave him another 50 cents and he said, ok yet I knew it was not enough; he was too busy to worry about the exact fair. When he saw a possible client he told the driver to stop and somehow the young man driving the bus managed to get to the right. Again, the person was just on the bus when the race started again, with full force the bus veered left again and moved along the street; the conductor always yelling at full force, “Miraflores, Camino Royal!” When we had to stop at designated bus stops, an ice cream man got on the bus trying to sell ice cream. He got a free ride until the next stop and then got off. At one time a candy man got on, too, selling candy. I imagine Newspaper boys, any kind of sales person can get on for one stop to sell something. The speed for all of this is hectic, chaos reigns, yet it is controlled. At one point we came to an intersection that was blocked. Off the conductor went to see what is happening and just a few seconds later the driver takes off without the conductor. I thought, well that is it, the young man driving the bus lost his partner without realizing it. No, I am wrong, just as they reached the intersection which is now moving at a pretty good speed, I see the conductor running to catch up with his bus and jumps in while the bus hardly slows down. It is acrobatics, it is planned. This happened one more time a little later at a bus stop, the conductor jumps off, runs behind a building, the bus takes off and then the conductor runs full speed to catch up with the bus and jumps on. I am watching all this in amazement. I watch the street packed full with cars, horns blaring, I see no way to move forward only to find the bus getting in a small opening to get ahead. Somehow the bus hardly stops in between bus stops. The driver finds his way.
I see 2 seats closer to the door and Carol and I change seats. While being seated I tell the conductor we need to get off near a roundabout, ovalo, which I remembered from our walks. He said, ok, he will let me know. I still don’t trust the whole thing for I am in between trusting the guy and still believing we are on the wrong bus. The bus does not have the letter “A” on the front, it is a non-descript bus, it looks to me like 100 other buses. I cannot figure out how the identification works, yet I am on a bus heading for Miraflores. I am sure I am heading for Miraflores. I can now watch the driver from my new seat and see that he acts like a race driver. He is full of attention to the road. Nothing matters to him but the traffic flow, the road, the race. He is shifting, giving signals, listening to the conductor, beeping his horn, watching, driving. He is all driver, heart and soul. He is about 25 years old and I have the feeling is being trained by the conductor. I can see them being a good team in time. The young man is learning and I can tell by the demeanor of the conductor that he is happy with the driver. What a team! After a 30 Minute ride, all of a sudden I hear OVALO and I do not hesitate, I yell at Carol and we are off the bus. Only after we are off, the bus already back in the sway of things, do I look around. Yes, I recognize some things; we are only one block from the hostel, at the right oval on the right street. What a ride.

Downtown Lima, Peru

After having secured our itinerary with Francis we took a day to visit Lima and to follow some of his suggestions for a daytrip. I need to preface by saying that just because a city is the capital of a county it does not mean it is the most beautiful part of the county. Lima worked out great for the Conquistadores because it had a very good natural harbor. Water was available due to a river nearby and the area is relatively flat, so all in all it was a good place to anchor. In the beginning Lima was just a small village, nothing to write home about. After the discovery of gold, Lima turned into one of the main centers for transshipment of the loot to Europe. In the fashion of the day, a Christian order was given the exclusive right to convert the heathens to Christianity. For Lima, the Crown of Spain gave this right to the Franciscan order and their monks. Maybe it helped that Pizarro’s first name was Francisco.
We visited the church of San Francisco which was build around a monastery mainly to see the catacombs. This was not the first Church built nor is it the main cathedral of Lima. The main Cathedral is near the Plaza de Armas, the main square, which is in the layout of a major Spanish town. I believe one has to choose which church to visit because there are so many of them and to visit all are not part of what I want to do when on a trip. San Francisco Cathedral and its cloister are known for the catacombs but besides that the woodcarvings are impressive. True Christians, in years past, were buried in the womb of Gods building to be as close to God as possible, even after death. Pizarro is buried in the main Cathedral, the church we did not visit. Like I said, I do not want to visit just churches while in a country. Maybe I will visit Pizarro’s tomb near the end of the trip. I also have the feeling that I will hear about Pizarro and the Franciscans and their counterpart the Jesuits all along this trip, so I will take it easy on the religious part of my history lesson. I will comment on what I learn after some time.
For now I want to write down what I learned in the catacombs. I learned that when bodies were buried inside the church lime was added to their decomposing bodies to speed up the decomposition of the flesh but the bones remained. After a while the whole basement of the cathedral was full of bones. Since its beginning in 1642 body after body was buried beneath the main floor of the cathedral. After 1842 this practice stopped, yet over 75,000 people were buried below the floor. Today only some bones remain. Most of them were cleaned up around 1940 or so and only the big parts were saved. Artfully arranged they remain in cases and special places, off limits to visitors yet plainly in sight. It is a bit eerie to see skulls and shin bones, etc. all lines up like in a warehouse. Just imagine the stink of the decomposing bodies filtering through the holes in the floor into the main nave of the church. Now I know why the church uses a lot of incense during a mass. The strong whiff of the incense helps to eliminate some of the other odors, I guess. It was an experience and worth a visit.
We stopped at the museum of Mr. Rafael Larco Herrera and his famous Archeology collection. In a beautiful house with an exquisite courtyard, Mr. Herrera today shows his private collection of Pre-Columbian art. It is not a very large, overwhelming museum yet it shows clearly that the Incas were just the tip of the iceberg in the cultures of Peru. Before the Incas were dozens of other ‘tribes’ that dominated. The Incas were just at the top when Pizarro arrived. Before the Incas, were other cultures I am here to learn about.
Visiting the museum and looking at the objects displayed, I can see why the Spaniards melted them down. It is hard to see the value of a golden object when your taste in art runs so opposed. I guess art is in the eye of a beholder. People made some mistakes when being faced with choices between a plain golden plate and an ornamented golden ring. Even today I do not share the feeling of beauty of a nose ring or an object one sticks in an enlarged earlobe. Yet those were objects prized and treasured by the Incas. I have a lot to learn.
We walked around the Plaza de Armas, visited Plaza de Martin and then took a local bus back to the hostel. The bus ride was an experience I will talk about in a separate small note.

Meet Francis,

There are all kinds of people in this world, I meet many and yet they just pass me by. I don‘t know them and will never know them. We both say hello to each other, even exchange a smile or at most a few words but that is about it, and then we go on our way. All the people I meet have a story to tell I am sure. I cannot even tell why a certain person has a deeper attraction than others. Time passes us by quickly and it takes an effort to sit down and meet each other. Some kind of spark has to ignite this relationship. Some people we meet have an effect on us that will last for years, some we will never forget and some memories of people will melt away like snow on a hot day. Yet at the time we meet them we just have to meet them. I am not saying that a meeting with new people is pre-determined but I often wonder why I meet people, what do they have to tell me, why am I here at this moment, is there a message I have to listen to? Why do I meet them?
So this time I met Francis P. Chauvel, the proprietor of the Hostel, Albergue Miraflores House in Miraflores, Peru (www.alberguemirafloreshouse.com) . Busy like a one armed paperhanger he runs a good hostel. He tries to run it like a hotel, it is better than a hostel. He has wakeup calls, changes sheets not just at the end of the stay but every other day, serves Pisco Sours in the afternoon, etc. Yes, he has a staff that helps yet he takes responsibility for everything. He takes his position as a hostel owner seriously, he cares about his clients. Francis heard of the dilemma Carol and I were in. Machu Picchu is not accessible until maybe April, so the newspapers here speculate. We saw pictures of the torrents that wrecked Aguas Calientes and it was obvious from the pictures that a visit at this moment is out of the question. Maybe it is the mentality of Peruvians, who take one day at the time, but Francis was not rattled by the facts. Things will work out for us. We all sat down Wednesday afternoon and talked and Francis found alternative ways to visit Peru. Through his long established network of friends, Francis found the solutions. He made more than a dozen telephone calls for us. Yes we had interruptions by his staff and his workforce, an electrician and a welder, who were installing an air conditioner a painter who painted some rooms, etc. Francis remained calm and cheerful and organized it all. After some 6 hours working for us we had all the bus tickets, we had reservations for all the hostels, for all the tours, we are now totally set. What did Francis charge? Nothing! He worked his network. He did favors for his friends who needed clients like us. He served his own pride by helping his clients and making sure that we were well taken care of. Could we have done it without Francis? NO! His demeanor is perfect for his position in life. We were lucky to have met him. Or was it more than luck? Do we really meet people we have to meet when we are in need? Some people believe there is a guiding thread in our lives. Sometimes I begin to wonder. No matter the underlying reason: Thank you, Francis!
PS. Not only did Francis make all the arrangements for us free of charge, he follows up, too. We are now in Paracas and Francis called his contact and spoke to Carol as well. He called just to make sure we are ok and all worked out for us. What a Guy.