Perah Dahling!

"Oh my god, I can't believe you said that, because that really reminds me of this time on my Gap Yah! Yah, I was in South Americah, in Perah..."

After yet another night bus, two weary Gap Yah'ers arrived in Lima at 6:30am and went straight to bed! A very much needed couple of hours sleep meant that we woke feeling fresh and ready to explore Lima, Peru's capital city, of which we had received very mixed advice; from amazing all-you-can-eat sushi to simply "leave", it was time for us to make up our own minds.

Not wanting to immerse ourselves completely in big city mayhem after a couple of weeks chilling by the beach, we decided to ease in slowly by checking out the Barranco area where we were staying. Overlooking the ocean, Barranco is described in my RG as a "kind of limeno Left Bank" however with nothing really of interest to see other than the Museum of Electricty (and I'm not sure that that is really of interest to anyone other than Benjamin Franklin) we headed down to the "beach". Despite a few surfers bobbing in the waves among the pollution, the dirty pebbly strip of beach right next to the very busy main road was not particularly to our liking, and we decided to cut our losses and go back to the hostel for a drink. On the way back we stopped to admire the "Bridge of Sighs" which is so called because it supposedly has the most romantic view in Lima, however by this stage a gloomy sea mist had encompassed us and the bridge did live up to it's name but with more of a sigh of exasperation. The day wasn't a complete disaster however as we did manage to squeeze in some Peruvian culture in the form of a Pisco Sour, the national drink consisting of Pisco brandy, lime juice, sugar, bitters and egg white! Much nicer than it sounds trust me!

The next day, determined to find something good about Lima, we went into the city and after a very average lunch we went to the San Francisco Catacombs. The entry price included a guided tour of the Monastry and its catacombs, however "guided tour" is really giving it too much credit. Our "English-speaking" tour consisted of a Peruvian who couldn't speak any English other than the spiel he had sort of memorised which was mumbled as he walked away from us towards the next room. We aimlessly followed our "guide" desperately trying (and failing) to hear what he was saying, and when we arrived in the church's vast crypts containing the skulls and bones of some seventy thousand people, the creepy atmosphere and crappy guide meant that I couldn't wait get back in to the open air, even if it was the polluted air of Lima city centre. A quick Starbucks Frappe in Parque Kennedy and a little explore of the shops in Miraflores was next on the menu before heading back to the hostel to escape the gloom and doom of the mist that settled over us like Dementors.

Our next destination was Huacachina for a much needed adrenalin fix after the monotony of Lima. A beautiful little oasis in the middle of the Peruvian desert, whose calm is only broken with the screams of Gap Yah'ers sandboarding and buggying in the surrounding dunes. On our first evening there we climbed the nearest sand dune to watch the sunset over the desert before a relaxed BBQ and beers around the pool topped off a lovely day.



I was up early the next day relaxing by the pool. It wasn't until Forrest eventually emerged and pointed out the incredible view that I remembered that we were surrounded by stunning sand dunes, and we spent the rest of the morning reading, swimming and admiring the view from our sunbeds. The afternoon's entertainment was brought to us courtesy of one highly suspect dune buggy which raced up, up and over the sand dunes at breakneck speeds before hurtling back down flinging sand in our screaming mouths. Much like your average car journey with Forrest : ) The dune buggy stopped at the top of the sandy mountains for us to board down, however being unaccustomed to snowboarding or any other variety of extreme sports I chose to take the easy option and go down on my stomach, while Forrest stumbled his way down half on his feet and half on his bottom. After a couple of smaller dunes the dune buggy eventually screeched to a halt perched precariously at the top of an enormous mountain, and health and safety concerns were thrown out of the window as we were practically pushed over the edge and hurtling down the side of the dune. Sledging in the Castle park this was not! We had all been given a small piece of wax to rub on our boards, but poor Forrest got slightly confused about the purpose of the wax and thought that it would create friction and slow the board down so didn't bother putting any on. So while everyone else went down at 100 miles an hour, Forrest slowly traversed down the practically vertical slope, desperately paddling with his arms trying to pick up speed before eventually stopping halfway down. Not quite the screaming adrenalin filled experience he was hoping for, however the buggy ride back to the hostel was enough of a white-knuckle ride to ensure we didn't feel disappointed.



Continuing with our crazy antics, the next day we boarded a flight in Nazca to see the famous Nazca Lines, a series of ancient geoglyphs shaped like birds, animals and blobs. When we had booked this tour the guy in the hostel had explained that the prices were high because there is less competition between companies since the accidents. The accidents?! Hardly confidence inspiring but we like to live dangerously so decided to ignore all the warning signs. What. A. Mistake.

The teeny tiny plane had 2 pilots and 5 passengers including Forrest and I, and we all had to be weighed and seated in a specific order relating to our weight. I thought that the weigh-in would be the most frightening aspect of the flight, but I was wrong. From the second the wheels left the ground, the plane (about the size of a paper aeroplane made from a piece of A4 paper) bobbed about erratically, lurching up and down and side to side with no apparent control whatsoever. This ridiculous lurching combined with trillion degree stifling air meant that I had to clutch on to the inflight sick bag and pray with all my might that we weren't going to die and I wasn't going to chundah everywah. I barely managed to look out of the window when we flew over the lines as praying used up all my concentration, but the occasional glance down indicated that the lines were pretty spectacular. My Sunday mornings spent at St Mary's as a child with Oma, Opa and Aunty Jacqueline paid off and I managed to avoid a vomcano, however God was obviously teaching me a lesson for my less than Catholic lifestyle ever since and played a little April Fool on us. We're still not entirely sure what happened, but as we were heading back to the airport after the thirty minute (too long) flight one of the pilots started fiddling with his seatbelt and appeared to take his foot off the 'fly' pedal. The engine cut out for a millisecond before the pilot managed to get his seatbelt sorted and hit the gas again, however it felt like an eternity before it started up and succeeded in spoiling the only part of the flight I was remotely enjoying - going back. To recover from our Nazca ordeal we spent the afternoon chilling by the pool in Nazca's nicest hotel and researching stories of far too recent fatalities from Nazca flights and thanking our lucky stars that we were off that stupid tin plane.



Rather than stay in Nazca a moment longer than we had to we decided to get the hell outta dodge and boarded, you guessed it, another night bus to Arequipa. Being on the second floor of a double decker bus going over the Andes in the dark is in itself a pretty scary experience, but we managed to get some sleep and arrived in Arequipa to a beautiful sunshiney day. Once we checked in to our hostel Forrest caught up with some football and I caught up with the beautiful Emily who made my day even more sunshiney with very exciting news of an engagement and a Godbean! What a wonderful start to a lovely day in Arequipa! We spent the day exploring the pretty city, and had a guided tour of the San Francisco Convent which was so beautiful that I contemplated becoming a nun and Forrest was able to play with the settings on his camera to capture the stunning colours and volcanic landscape behind the Convent's walls. A 2:30am wake up the next day meant a very early night, but we still managed to squeeze in a couple of drinks with a nice English couple who had just done the Inca Trail with the same company as us, and thus gave us the lowdown on what to expect.



The early morning wake up was for a two day trek in Colca Canyon, a three hour drive from Arequipa which meant leaving at 3am to arrive in time for breakfast at 6. We were picked up from the hostel and crammed into a minibus far too small for the number of people which meant that sleeping was impossible. The driver's Reggatton music blaring from a speaker right next to my head didn't help either. After a breakfast of coca tea and stale bread we squeezed back in to the bus and went to the first stop on the tour to see if we could spot any condors. We got lucky and saw a couple of the huge birds soaring over the spectacular canyon which was pretty breathtaking, and then we realised that not only were we going to be walking down in to the depths of the canyon but at some stage we would also have to get back up. My feet got a little shaky in my inappropriate Converse shoes.

The scenery walking down in to the canyon was stunning, and I only slipped a couple of hundred times. We stopped for an alpaca stew halfway down and our guide Victor explained a little bit about where we were and about the beautiful flora and fauna surrounding us. The promise of "paradise" waiting for us at the bottom of the canyon spurred us on and we set off with renewed spirits however we couldn't help but be slightly disappointed when we arrived to find a slightly grotty, freezing cold swimming pool. Not exactly what John Milton had in mind but we still took the opportunity to soak our aching legs and relax before dinner, which to Forrest's delight came with a side-serving of 'ganter' (I resent having to write that word and give it any form of recognition). After attempting to take photos of the amazing stars we eventually hit the hay at the very late time of 8:30 in preparation for our uphill slog the next morning. A cup of coca tea for breakfast at 5:30am gave us the little extra energy boost we needed for the three hour climb out of the canyon. We set off just as the sun was rising, and the switchbacks in the path up the side of the canyon provided the perfect opportunity to stop to catch your breath and admire the incredible landscape. We celebrated our trekking prowess (hundreds of almosts but no falls - even Snr. Clumsy managed to remain upright!) with a relax in the thermal baths, a Colca Sour (YUM) and a big buffet lunch before heading back to Arequipa.



You'll be delighted to know that that evening we took our final overnight bus in South America, and to celebrate we decided to go for the more expensive 'Cama' seats - practically fully reclinable and waitress service. Somehow Forrest managed to have even less leg room than he did in the cheap seats and struggled to sleep so spent the journey cramped and listening to a very distressed child crying while me and my stumpy legs slept soundly all the way to Cusco.

Coming up in The Gap Yah Chronicles: With our Gap Yah travels in South America rapidly coming to an end we end our Latin adventure on a high...the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu followed by steak and red wine in Buenos Aires!

Forrest's Final Thought:

For those of you who aren't part of the YouTube generation (hi Mum and Dad!) who have been baffled and confused by the references to Gap Yah'ers, chundering and vomcanos, I present to you the ingenious inspiration for our blog that is Gap Yah...