Pisco, Islas, Nazca

One of the tremendous advantages of staying with family in Lima was the opportunity to make a short trip out of Lima down to Nazca and back again. Leaving most of our gear at José & Jorge’s place in Surco, Alix and I jumped on a bus for a two-hour ride to Pisco.

Our first impressions were pretty poor- the truth is that Pisco is a bit of a dump. We soon found out why- there was a pretty serious earthquake in 2008 and despite the fact that we are talking about almost three years ago, the reconstruction work has not happened in any kind of reasonable timeframe. The roads in Pisco are unpaved, and mounds of dirt everywhere on the roads hint at unfinished sewerage or cabling installations. The town is badly in need of a few engineers: the buildings that are finished are pretty shoddy, and the use of a plumb line might ensure the walls are straight when they build them. All the buildings in Pisco seem bent out of shape, like the brickies couldn’t stack the bricks properly, and the carpenters don’t quite understand what vertical is. It bugs me.

Pisco is located 235kms south of Lima, just below it is the Paracas peninsula and below that is the town of Nazca. We came to Pisco with two things in mind: firstly to catch a boat out to the Islas las Ballestas, a small island that is home to thousands of sea birds and kind of watch them flying around; and secondly, perhaps a bit more predictably, to get Pisco’ed in Pisco. Our first night was annoying, a group of French idiots talked loudly until 2am in the hostel until I yelled at them to shut up.

The morning after our arrival saw us on a boat ride to Islas las Ballestas. Unknown to me, our boat ride included a quick pass by another local tourist attraction known as the Candelabra of the Andes. Seen from the sea, this is a giant rock carving of something that looks like a candelabra, or a trident, or a Datura plant, or something. No one knows what it is supposed to be, who carved it or why it was carved in the first place. That it was made by people, and that they did it by carving huge trenches into the rock hard sand is all that is known about it.

To add more interest to the mystery, the candelabra was damaged in the 2008 earthquake and somehow it ‘fixed itself’. At least that’s what the tour guide told us on the boat. He seemed like a dodgy sort of bloke anyway so I wasn’t inclined to believe him. The last person who wrote a theory about the candelabra was an eccentric dream-catcher sort of bloke named Frank Joseph, who reckoned it was a picture of the Datura plant, which ancient Peruvians apparently used as a hallucinogenic drug. The fact that it looks nothing like a Datura plant is not much of a problem, just take some Datura and it soon will.

The Islas were cold, pretty, and completely covered in bird shit- highly valuable bird shit that the Spanish mined and exported as fertiliser, hence the odd, broken down wooden structures around the island. There were loads of birds and a few bemused looking sea lions.

Once off the boat we relaxed in the sun, drank coffee at a beach side café, then joined a tour bus around the Paracas peninsula. There wasn’t much to it really, but it was a pleasant way to kill an afternoon and see some rather dramatic coastline.

Soon we were back in dilapidated Pisco. Despite the fairly dismal surroundings, people here are pretty jovial. I get the impression that Pisco folks much prefer to eat, drink, talk, smoke and dance salsa rather than work. Alix and I went to a local ‘Pisco Disco’, drained several pisco sours and listened to the local band, an event that involves lots of jugs of beer, cigarette smoke, girls with too much make up and jewellery and lots of singing- the popular Peruvian songs have well known lyrics and the locals love to sing along. A girl up front in a short skirt danced a particularly sexy salsa and got a free beer for the dance. At one point Alix was the only gringo girl in the pub and she attracted the lion’s share of the wolf-whistles and suggestive gestures that go with a night out in Pisco.

The next day we caught a bus through a landscape of sand dunes to Ica and a connecting bus to Nazca. Nazca was a better town than Pisco, the streets were paved, which is a good start. Early in the morning after our arrival we headed out to the airstrip to do the one thing that Nazca is famous for- a flyover of the Nazca Lines.

Security at the airstrip was tight. A month previously a group of 8 people booked a private flyover in one of the larger light aircraft, a 12-seater Cessna they call a ‘caravan’. Once they were aboard the plane they hijacked it, tied up the pilots and flew the plane themselves to the Amazon jungle where they released the hostages, refuelled from a cached fuel dump and flew away. The inevitable result of this was the installation of metal detectors and airport security staff with grim expressions at the terminal entry.

Once inside the airstrip we boarded a 7-seater Cessna for the flyover. The plane was cool. I’d never been on an aircraft so small before. It elicited a childlike enthusiasm from me, like riding in a billy cart with wings and the engine of an outboard motorboat. To get a good look at the bizarre geoglyphs carved in the desert the Cessna banks sharply to the right or left, and when you are cranked over you can really feel the pull on the sharp turns.

The geoglyphs themselves are one of the great mysteries of the world. There are plenty of ideas about them, but none of them make much sense. I’ve heard a few versions from tour guides and museum staff, something about irrigation channels mixed with a complex understanding of celestial movements and an ancient religion, the huge pictures of animals and weird trapezoidal shapes make up a celestial calendar that was read by priests who were high on hallucinogenic drugs and communicated with the gods. If you read that last sentence and it didn’t make much sense then consider yourself getting properly into the spirit of the thing.

The spider

The hummingbird

The tree of life

After the flyover I needed to go back to the hostel for a little nap, the banking aircraft had churned my stomach and I wasn’t feeling so good. One girl we spoke to actually vomited while on her flight, I was simultaneously sympathetic and relieved that she wasn’t on the same flight as we were.

A short rest later I was ready to drink some more Pisco, but we decided to go to a local museum instead. The museum was a small taste of things to come, the displays were of creepy mummies wrapped up in the local Nazca style, where instead of laying the mummy out flat they bundle the corpse up in the foetal position into a reed basket, with the head sticking out the top. Local archaeological efforts had unearthed several significant tombs, but these were nothing compared to what we were soon to experience as we travelled out of Lima once again, this time to the North of Peru.

Fiestas Patrias

Soon after we met, Miguel Andrés and I discovered we have an interest in military history in common, so it made sense that we go into the city together to watch the military parade being conducted for Fiestas Patrias, the national holiday commemorating Peruvian independence from Spain. It was sure to be an interesting event, and I felt fortunate that in my travels I was in the right place at the right time to experience some unique local culture.

I knew basically what to expect. The streets would be cordoned off by traffic police and crowds of flag-waving people would show out to cheer, or jeer, at columns of marching military personnel as they made their way up the main street in Lima. It would start early, like all military events, and it would finish before lunch time, when everyone would knock off for the day and go to eat meat and drink beer.

I knew all this, of course, because of Anzac Day. On Anzac Day, Australians take the time to remember the sacrifice of those men and women of the Australian and New Zealand Army Corps who have died in all the wars Australia has participated in. The emotional landscape is, generally speaking, one of quiet introspection, although there are always a few cranks who will denounce the parade event as a glorification of war. The Australian government, or at least a few journalists with nothing better to write about that week, typically make a reasonable effort to remind us that glorification is exactly what Anzac Day is not an example of. Especially when we are remembering battles like Gallipoli in which we got our butts kicked.

Here in Peru the vibe of a military parade is vastly different. Partially this is due to their attitude towards festivals in general. While we were in Lima they also had “roast chicken day” where everyone gets together on a Sunday and eats roast chicken. (How this is different from any other Sunday no one seemed to be able to explain to me, but I’m not one to quibble over such details when there are roasted chickens to be eaten.) If ‘roasting a chicken’ gets a look in as being worthy of an all-singing all-dancing festival event, then I figured that ‘winning independence from a colonial ruler’ was going to be an absolute cracker.

Independence is not the only military stoush that is being celebrated at this parade though, or you might reasonably expect everyone to be dressed up in 19th century gear. Throughout the late 19th and early 20th century, Peru fought border wars with both its northern and southern neighbours, and they have won a few and lost a few, ceding some territory to Chile in the South, annexing some from Ecuador in the North. At the same time as fighting border wars, Peru has had more than its fair share of domestic terrorism to deal with. Two of the world’s most notorious Maoist terror groups, the Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path) and the MRTA (Túpac Amaru Revolutionary Movement) are Peruvian. After prevailing through these challenges, the Peruvian military of the 21st century generate their own nationalistic enthusiasm, and it rubs off on the crowds that gather to watch them pass by in parade.

Miguel and I went early, before the parade started, and it was fun to watch the guys getting ready before the parade began. In Peru the female traffic cops wear long black boots and tight tan coloured leggings reminiscent of feminine horse riding attire, an ensemble that looks kinda sexy. Machismo is alive and well in Peru and the army boys wolf-whistled and cheered the girls when they rode by, straddling their motorcycles and looking impassive. The ‘Policia Nacional’ chicks get to wear long grey capes with red lining, which makes them look fairly Twilight, really.

Women in uniform

Most of the soldiers in the Peruvian forces have rounder faces and darker skin. Most of the officers look whiter and more European, and their uniforms are elaborate and fancy. It is clear that the officers are typically drawn from the upper echelon of Peruvian society, the product of military school education from military families. Naval officers chatted to each other amiably. Here is an English translation of an actual overheard conversation:

Officer 1: Yes, I have three maids, actually. One for the cooking, and another for the cleaning…”

Officer 2: (interrupting) “And one just in case, hey?”

(all officers laugh)

Hanging out before the parade

Miguel and I soon went to the roadside where official organisers rented plastic chairs for a couple of bucks a pop. There were fancier, more expensive grandstand areas which could also be rented, closer to where the president, Alan García would soon sit after his official entrance. Miguel and I rented a couple of chairs and waited for the parade to start. Street vendors sold hot doughnuts and sweets and the official organisers kept people who hadn’t paid for a seat out of the roped off areas, generating loud whining from nearby democratically minded but penniless onlookers.

The festival of nationalism soon fired up as the marching began and there was a kind of football game enthusiasm in the air. The whole parade seemed to cry out, “Guns and bombs, hell yeah!” as the troops pulled out all the stops to put on a good show of it.

There was a myriad of uniforms and materiel to keep the crowds interested. There were snipers in yowie suits,

anti-tank units,

machine gunners wearing bandanas on their heads,

even a tactical raider unit of dudes armed with crossbows

Even the kids got guns- the girls in military school were carrying Uzi’s, as if someone in charge of stage management decided that because they were only small, they should only have small machineguns.

Sometimes the ‘variety show’ aspect got a bit silly. At one point there was a unit of blokes wearing gas masks and riding horses. That’s right, the riders had gas masks, but the horses didn’t. I suppose they ride into the gas attack, then walk it from there onwards.

To top off all the fun there is this dude- Zachariah, the Peruvian army mascot- who elicited whoops of delight and frenzied photography from the crowd with his disco dancing and oversized novelty bazooka.

Zachariah was good, but the feature of the parade that elicited the most feverish response from the crowd was undoubtedly the goose-stepping. Although the formed units of soldiers marched normally for most of the parade distance, when they passed in front of President García the officers saluted and the troops goose-stepped, doubling the cheering volume of the surrounding crowd. I wonder how this made the democratically elected president feel, exactly. The Peruvian military are known for dissolving democratic governments that do not cater to their interests.

Everyone loves a good goose step

One identifiable army unit that is worth a special mention is the Chavín De Huántar, a Commando unit famous for storming the Japanese ambassador’s residence and freeing 72 hostages in 1996 after they were trapped in the building by 14 terrorists of the MRTA. In the assault, all 14 terrorists were killed, two soldiers and one hostage also died in the battle.

During the 1980’s, Peru struggled quite a bit to fight terrorism effectively. Terrorist organisations, operating mostly in the provinces, killed journalists, murdered farmers and intimidated populations. They forcibly recruited young men into their service and engaged in criminal activities like synthesising and trafficking cocaine, car-bombing civilians in downtown Lima, destroying infrastructure built by their capitalist enemy (you know, evil stuff like ‘plumbing’ and ‘electricity towers’) and otherwise made a nuisance of themselves. The Peruvian military either misunderstood the nature of their enemy or they didn’t really care too much, because they responded with blunt force, torturing and executing terrorists, arbitrarily arresting and imprisoning terrorism suspects (like ‘village leaders’ and ‘council elders’), raping female political prisoners and violently suppressing student activism and freedom of expression in Peruvian universities.

The Peruvian armed forces firmly established their own reputation for excessive use of force, and in the unstable political times in 1980’s Peru, it was eye-for-an-eye between the rebels and the military. A good example of the Peruvian approach occurred during the prison riots at the coastal El Fronton prison outside of Lima over June 18-19, 1986. At El Fronton, imprisoned Shining Path terrorists incited a riot and took 5 prison guards hostage, demanding the release of 500 people imprisoned for terrorism in exchange for the release of the prison guards. The Peruvian navy responded by levelling the prison, killing 140 people in the process-a heavy-handed tactic if ever there was one.

The Japanese embassy assault in 1996 was very different to the bad old days of El Fronton; it was a tactically sound, professionally executed hostage rescue mission. Aside from being a splendid tactical victory, the success of the rescue operation gave the presidency of Japanese-Peruvian President Fujimori a much needed boost. In 1992 Fujimori dissolved congress and since then he had ruled as a dictator. He autocratically changed many laws, including legalising summary execution for terrorists. There were reports from the embassy battle that terrorists attempted to surrender during the raid, but when Chavín de Huántar commandoes stormed the embassy they left no terrorists alive. Most Peruvians either approved, or shrugged and looked the other way.

Back at the military parade, the serious business of the armed forces plays second fiddle to the fun-and-games of the cool looking hardware the army puts out for show. They rolled both tracked and wheeled APC’s and fighting vehicles down the street and the occasional wave from a turret gunner greatly impressed the crowd. They had a missile launcher too, and some really cool flak tanks (ZSU-23-4 self-propelled anti-aircraft systems, for you technical types) that looked kind of like carnival rides when they spun their turrets around.

As the parade drew to a close and the street vendors began to pack up their stalls, my overall impression was one of amusement. It was a public holiday event, and it was fun. My favourite feature of all was these desert camo quad-bikes which look just like they rolled off the set of a Hollywood movie. Bust out the rocket launchers, folks!

Family Ties

The bus ride from Puno to Lima was a long one; it should’ve been ‘only’ 17 ½ hours, but in true South American style, we arrived at 12pm instead of 8am. I was rather concerned: my cousin, Miguel Andres, was meeting us at the Flores terminal; I’d hate for him to sit around for 4 hours.

As we waited for our packs to be unloaded, I scanned the crowd looking for a (hopefully) familiar face – I hadn’t seen Miguel since I was 3, but thanks to Facebook, I had a very vague idea of his current visage. Jace asked me, “So, how will you recognise him?” “Hopefully he’ll recognise me,” I replied. And he did. It only took one look at Miguel’s face to see echoes of his sisters, Mariela and Veronica, who I’d seen more recently. But he was so big and tall – 6’5” at least. Facebook profile pics don’t really prepare you for height.

We kissed and hugged like true Peruvians, and I introduced Jace. Then we grabbed our packs and jumped in a cab to my aunt Gisela’s apartment in Miraflores, where we would be staying for the next 10 days. On the way, weaving through some of the worst traffic and crazy driving I’ve ever seen, Miguel told us that he had arrived at the terminal before 8am and was told, “Oh no, the bus from Puno doesn’t get in till 12pm,” so he went home and returned for us right on time. No worries.

After well-needed showers, Miguel, Jace and I walked to ‘Pizza Alley’ for lunch and watched one of the World Cup semi-finals. Then we took a long walk along the waterfront. The Pacific ocean was grey and it was a cold, overcast and windy day; typical of Miraflores in winter, and just how I remembered Lima from the last trip 5 years ago.

That night, my aunt Erika brought some tasty chifa (Chinese food) over and we were joined by Mariela (Mari), her daughter Camila (Cami), Cami’s boyfriend Pedro, and my uncle Heinz. It was a preview of what was to come: the next month would be filled with food and family.

The next five days for me were spent recovering from a bad head cold and sinus infection. Despite that, we managed to meet my cousin José Javier, who I also hadn’t seen since I was 3 and was even taller than his younger brother, and his husband Jorge, and share some great meals with the family. The most notable one was at La Bistecca, a fantastic restaurant with buffets of hors d’œuvres, entrées and salads, maki (sushi) and made-to-order pasta, pizza, stir-fries and a variety of grilled meats, plus a chocolate fountain. Heaven!

On Monday, Jace started a week of morning Spanish classes at El Sol in Miraflores, while I spent time reading, watching movies on cable tv, internetting, and doing a little study in Gisela’s cosy apartment. In the afternoons and evenings, we walked around Miraflores and had meals with the family.

Disaster struck on Thursday afternoon at Jockey Plaza, a mall where we went to buy some new walking shoes for Jace to replace his old Merrells. First stop in the plaza was the ATM and my card was retained; all I got was a slip of paper saying, “Retained for security purposes.” Of course, the Peruvian bank could do nothing for me. “I’m sorry, but you have to call your bank in Australia.” We tried to buy shoes on Jace’s credit card but he didn’t know his PIN and they couldn’t let him just sign like he does in Australia. Total fail. Back home we went.

Turns out someone had tried to spend $1 at the US iTunes store and St George had picked it up and blocked my card. This is a popular tactic amongst thieves: they ‘test’ the card and if the bank lets the transaction go through, they empty your account. So, good thing they stopped it, but very inconvenient for us as we had to wait up to 10 working days for my replacement card to arrive from Australia. Previously, Jace had accidentally left his card in Cochabamba with Piti and Grace. Fortunately, they were coming to Lima and would drop the card to us, but that was still a week away. Together with Jace unable to remember his credit card PIN, this meant we were totally out of cash. We had planned a trip that weekend south to Pisco and Nazca, which was now out the window.

Fortunately, we were in Lima with lots of family around, so we were able to borrow some money to get us through the week till Piti arrived. We postponed our trip south by 6 days and Jace signed up for another week of Spanish classes.

In anticipation of Gisela’s return to Lima, we moved to José and Jorge’s Magical House of Stuff in Surco. I think only pictures can do it justice.

Can anyone guess José's favourite film?

Ride 'im, Olive!

These are next to Olive & Popeye

And this is on the other side. Kinda looks like the Kohler crest

My favourite picture in the house

The boys love soft toys

Birds are all over the kitchen

Also in the kitchen

Vases, masks and lots of CDs

Even more CDs, candles, vases, statues, and 3 phones

Drink, anyone?

Cool mirror in the guest bathroom

José's music room

So, another 2 weeks in Lima were upon us. Once again, we spent lots of time eating with the family, including celebrating National Pollo alla Brasa (BBQ chicken) Day at Erika’s by eating, you guessed it, pollo alla brasa.

Jace travelled with José early in the morning to Miraflores for his Spanish classes, enjoying their chats and breakfast at Starbucks while doing his homework.

On July 20, we celebrated Jace’s [CENSORED]th birthday by firstly having a fantastic lunch of ceviche at Punto Azul in Surco. In the afternoon, I baked the traditional Armstrong family chocolate fudge birthday cake. (Incidentally, the recipe for ‘Crazy Cake,’ as it was originally called, was given to my mum by Mari 28 years ago.) Then we were joined at José and Jorge’s by most of the family and Jace’s classmate, Ron, for a feast of traditional criollo food (and pisco sours, of course). It was a great night!

(Part of ) The Feast

Ron, Alix, Birthday Boy, Gisela and Pedro

Birthday Boy and Heinz

Jorge and Mari

Thursday we were able to get Jace’s card off Piti – yay! our own money – and pay the family back. Then it was off to Pisco and Nazca for 4 ½ days. (For details, see separate blog post.)

We arrived back just in time for Peruvian Independence Day on 28th July and the Fiestas Patrias (2 days of public holidays). I’ll let Jace tell you about his military parade experience on the 29th, while I spent some quality time with Gisela. We all went to see Inception on the 28th as well, which I only mention because (a) it is an excellent film and (b) it was the first time we’d seen a film overseas.

Miguel, Pedro, Jace and José on the 28th

Three generations: Mari, Gisela and Cami

Gisela and Alix

The fiestas were marred slightly by discovering that nearly AU$3,500 had been stolen using my card details before the iTunes attempt and had gone unnoticed by the St George Falcon team. More phone calls to Australia and promises of moneys to be returned (yet to be seen). A few days later, 17 after my card was eaten, the replacement card still hadn’t turned up. Another call, the card was cancelled – Peruvian mail is notoriously bad and no one had asked if I wanted it couriered, I just assumed the crack Falcon team would have the 411 on mail in South America – and a replacement was sent by courier to the South American Explorers Clubhouse in Quito. (When my parents returned to Sydney after 3 weeks overseas, they discovered my first replacement card and PIN at their house. St George had not actually bothered to send it to Lima at all.)

As we had Jace’s card now anyway, we made plans to leave Lima the following week. With the clock ticking, we finally made the effort to visit a few museums. The Museo de Oro (Gold Museum), which was only 500m from our digs, has an amazing and extensive collection of pre-Colombian gold, silver, ceramics, textiles and weapons, and well as an enormous collection of weapons and armour from all over the world – over 20,000 pieces. The Museo de la Nación, housed in an interesting building done in the “brutalism” style, had a great overview of Peruvian history and art as well as a special photographic exhibition on the 20 years of terrorism in Peru by the MRTA (Túpac Amaru Revolutionary Movement) and the Shining Path, from 1980-2000. It was a shocking and dark time in Peru’s history, and the photos truly reflected this. Those taken of and by eight journalists murdered in Ayacucho in 1983 most affected me. Lastly, we went to the Amano Museum, a private museum, which holds a good collection of ceramics and some amazing textiles.

Just a few of the katana at the Museo de Oro

Biggest pocketknife EVAH (about 45cm in total)

Some armor

"Brutalism"

MRTA reading a statement for journalists

The Presidential Palace

Palace guards: The Nutcrackers

Last meals with the family were had at Guru Indian in Surco and Panchita’s in Miraflores (Jace’s best meal on the continent, so far), and shopping was done for replacement shoes, socks and underwear. Four months on the road wearing the same clothes week after week will wear things out pretty quickly, we’ve found.

Originally, we had planned to bus to Barranca to visit the ruins at Caral, ‘the oldest civilisation in the Americas,’ and from there to Trujillo. Unfortunately, most of the bus companies didn’t stop in Barranca on their way north and the one that did didn’t actually have any room on Thursday. Fortunately, José and Jorge (bless their stuff toys) offered to drive us to Caral on Saturday, if we would wait the extra couple of days. Uh, yeah, sure we’ll wait.

Our last night in Lima was spent with my cousin Erika (daughter of Erika) and her blood brother, Carlos (she’s adopted, by the way). We sat around, ate anticuchos, drank wine (me) and beer (the others), watched funny YouTube videos (Old Spice Guy and Train Trip Girl in particular), shared music, danced, and Carlos even treated us to a couple of tunes on his guitar. It was great way to end our time in Lima.