Arequipa to Lake Titicaca (Nick)

After an enjoyable couple of days in Arequipa, our next task was to make our way overland to Copacabana, on the Bolivian end of Lake Titicaca (the original Copacabana, after which the famous one is named). Although it was 450km by road, bus schedules meant we did it in two chunks: Arequipa to Puno (also on Titicaca, but at the Peruan end), and then Puno to Copacabana. After booking a bus (4M) through our hostel in Arequipa, we were picked up by a taxi in the morning and driven down the road to the bus stop (all part of the bus service). Somehow we managed to score seats right behind the driver, and so we were able to enjoy a lot of the high alpine scenery we passed through.

The road quickly started going up once we left Arequipa, and kept going for the next few hours. We wound our way through the dusty outskirts of the city, and then up through drier and drier scenery, punctuated by irrigated farmland and with snowcapped mountains looming far away in the distance. After a couple of hours we made our first stop- lunch at an isolated cafe near a village (possibly Pampa de Arrieros) that looked like something out of a Western movie set. After munching down our sandwiches (kindly provided by the bus company) and using the decidedly 3rd world toilets (not quite as much of a shock to the system to Molly as to me- she's spent time in Africa) we jumped back on the bus and continued gently ascending, as I eagerly followed our upwards progress via the occasional road sign. By this time we were over 4000m up and still climbing.

Mountains, desert, vicuñas (related to llamas), and small roadside shrines to crash victims marked our progress for the next few hours. Eventually we got to the point I had been waiting for- Crucero Alto, the highest point on the trip at 4558m. Our altitude pills (diamox) seemed to be doing the trick, and we noticed no ill effects at all. At least that was the case when we were sitting in the bus- when we stopped a couple of times to see flamingos and the beautiful lake Lagunillas it was a different story. Lesson learned: don't leap up and down for photos, or run back to the bus, at 4500m.

Running out of puff

Soon after Lagunillas, and as we began heading downhill again, darkness fell- so we didn't see much else until arriving in the cities of Juliaca and Puno, where the day's journey ended. It was hard to tell, but Puno seems a lot less prettified than the cities we had seen thus far. However, it's probably not a good idea to base one's opinion of a place on journeys to and from the bus station. We settled in to bed at the Las Pinas hostel, comfy enough despite the absence of a heater (it was getting pretty cold by this stage), and crashed.

The next morning we got up early and caught a taxi, booked for us by the very friendly and helpful hotel staff, back to the bus station. We had booked onward tickets around Lake Titicaca to Copacabana through the hotel staff the previous night, but when we arrived there was only one bus getting ready to go, from a different company. We were assured that our ticket was good for that bus, and given we had little other option we loaded our luggage and got on- and indeed it all seemed to be fine!

The trip around Lake Titicaca was quite interesting, hugging the coastline much of the time, and passing through small towns (with multiple hand-painted graffiti signs encouraging us to vote for "Alan"). Titicaca is a large lake, and it took a couple of hours to reach the Bolivian border at Yunguyo. At that point we had to get off the bus (which, slightly disconcertingly, drove across the border and out of sight), and queue up at the Peruvian border control. That took half an hour, after which we had to walk across the 50m of no-man's-land to queue up again at the Bolivian border office. Another half an hour and we were officially in Bolivia, without any money having changed hands, or any vaccinations having been checked (we had been warned to have everything in order as sometimes the guards like to see your vaccination records).

Luckily the bus reappeared, and we climbed back on and headed the last few kilometres to Copacabana. As we entered the town, the bus stopped and we had to pay a "town entry tax" of 2 Bolivianos to a friendly gentleman who came on board. Molly had read that this was a scam, but despite her strongly (but quietly) held objections, we paid up. The bus dropped us at the centre of town, up the hill from the lake front, and we negotiated the steep streets up to our accommodation at the Hotel Utama.

The hotel, on the inside, looked like something out of either retro Vegas or the communist era- a 3-storey, square atrium, with rooms on all sides, and a fountain in the middle on the ground floor. Our room was again comfortable and had a view down to the lake, although, like most hotels we encountered, the "hot" water in the shower was perhaps more accurately described as "tepid".

We spent the afternoon looking around the town, grabbing lunch, and considering options for our trip out to the Isla del Sol the next day. While the night in Puno had been cold, it was still pretty warm in the sun, so we spent some time enjoying the view down on the lakefront. In the evening we walked along the hill from the Utama to the highly recommended Cupola Hotel, only to find it was so highly recommended that the restaurant was completely booked out. The exceedingly friendly and helpful owner directed us down into town, to one of the next best places, La Orilla. A nice dinner later, we puffed our way back up the hill and into bed.

Coming Down in Cusco (Molly)

I'm going to make a very bold statement - if you're travelling to Peru with limited time, skip Cusco. Before leaving, we read in one travel guide that Cusco was 'nearly at saturation point' from tourism, and I think by the time we arrived, it had tipped.

In its favour: Cusco is beautiful. It was the hub of resistance to Spanish rule by the Incas. The streets are lined with half falling-down, half resurrected colonial buildings, with wildly ornate street signs and traffic lights. The mirrored church is lovely, and unlike any of the others we had seen. 

We stayed only one night, just outside of the city centre, in a very friendly, locally run hostel in the gateway between safe and slightly dodgy neighbourhoods. We had breakfast with a couple from the UK, he produced documentaries and she analysed ecological footprints. Not easy in a city where rubbish and plastic water bottles are piled high. No doubt Peruanos generate less waste per person, but it is kept more out of sight in our highly cleansed life in NZ.

Highlights:

The local market, always worth the trip. Also a good source of jugo de fresa (strawberry juice), cheeses marked by region, and enormous bread wheels.

I indulged in my love of taking photos of doorways and windows. A small selection here, most of the ground floor and stone doorways are original Incan, while the second stories and grillwork are Spanish.

Morena restaurant. Another Peruvian fusion meal (yes, with quinoa) and a pisco sour. For the uninitiated, the pisco sour is Peru's national drink. A bit of pisco alcohol, made from pisco, as the base lime juice, syrup, ice, Angostura bitters, plus some frothed egg whites - heavenly. Mine came gilded with a flower.

On the last afternoon, we found San Blas, a lovely artists' district just up the hill from the main square, and a bit quieter than town. We sat all afternoon at Siete & Siete (located between the streets Siete Angelitos and Siete Diablitos, Seven Angels and Seven Devils), sipping Cusqueno beer shandies and admiring the view. I guess Cusco wasn't so bad.

Traveller tips:

We managed to avoid almost all signs of altitude sickness through a) taking pills, and b) working our way up slowly from Machu Picchu Pueblo to Ollantaytambo to Cusco, at 3,400 metres (11,200 feet). This plan was based on other blog posts and worked a treat. The most we got was tingly fingertips, which was a funny sensation, and the normal breathlessness when climbing stairs.

Spend more time in San Blas and less in the city centre. Or skip Cusco, as the combination of Lima, Ollantaytambo and Arequipa will give you the same colonial and Incan heritage without the crowds. 

Ollantaytambo (Molly)

Many tourists make the trip to Machu Picchu in one long day directly from Cusco, or even from Lima, which seems like more of a test of endurance than a holiday. In doing so, they not only exhaust themselves, but also miss one of the great pueblos of Peru: Ollantaytambo.

The government of Peru seems to have made some very progressive laws in its time, one being that in the town of Ollantaytambo, which has been continuously inhabited since the 13th century, the residents must preserve the beautiful Incan buildings and only use the same style in any new residences. This means that the town maintains a wonderful authenticity of Incan (and pre-Incan) stone doorways, cobbled streets, water channels and bridges. Ruins and high mountains tower over the town, glittering in the sun. While there is some tourism, most of the residents are just living their normal lives, often wearing traditional hats and skirts or carrying babies in brightly coloured woven cloth.

Nick and I spent two nights at Ollantaytampu Hostel, which was off a little side street from the main square, in a family's home that they have turned into a B&B. While it is sometimes awkward feeling like you're in someone's living room (the teenage boys were fond of playing lots of YouTube music videos, but at least they had good taste), the views and the breakfasts were fantastic. Here is what we saw from our breakfast table:

Most of our time was spent either on this patio or wandering the winding side streets.

In doing so, we had one of the best meals so far in Peru. A little place, Restaurant Pizzeria Mijunapaq, which is on Chaupi Calle just off the main square, served up 'lomo alpaca', or 'alpaca tenderloin' in what we think was black currant sauce. Succulent and tender, similar to a good veal. Delicioso.

To save money we bought quinoa and vegetables at the local market (carefully avoiding the dried llama foetuses - apparently you can buy them as an offering to Pachamama, the goddess Mother Earth), and cooked over gas late in the evening. 

We couldn't leave without seeing the amazing ruins, just a 5 minute stroll down the hill. If I hadn't just seen Machu Picchu, I'd say they were some of the best I'd ever seen. Ollantaytambans must feel that they are a little short changed - if their town were anywhere else in the world, people would be coming thousands of miles to see it. Just as well that it isn't.

El Vallejo Sagrado (Nick)

After an early morning flight from Lima we found ourselves in Cusco, 3300m above sea level. The altitude can do strange things to you - both of us felt a little woozy on arrival, and the air in my packet of chips expanded so much that it eventually burst in my bag.

We caught a cab in to the Plaza de Armas, where we eventually secured the services of Juan, who agreed to drive us along part of the Sacred Valley to Ollantaytambo, where we were due to catch the train later that evening.

The Sacred Valley of the Incas follows the course of the Urubamba River for 150km, and is the site of some amazing Inca ruins. After a winding journey down the side of the valley we arrived at Pisac, where we grabbed lunch and wandered around the market for a while, and then Juan drove us up to the ruins themselves (see top photo). They're even higher than Cusco, and the going was pretty strenuous any time we had to climb stairs. The Incas, in building their towns and temples on the steep valleys of the Andes, incorporated a lot of stairs.

The ruins themselves are spectacular, and include terraces, fortifications, and temples. We scrambled around them, and admired the views of the valley and the town of Pisac for a couple of hours while Juan waited patiently in the car. When we eventually got back he drove us on through the valley, passing towns like Calca, Yucay, and Urubamba, all of which started out as Inca settlements. At Molly's request he turned off the main road a couple of times and drove us through the ancient village streets, while we asked him in pidgin Spanish about what we were seeing.

Eventually we arrived in the beautiful town of Ollantaytambo. We were due to stay there a day later after visiting Machu Picchu, and the train between Ollantaytambo and the staging post for Machu Picchu only allowed hand luggage, so with Juan's help we located the hostel we would be staying at and dropped off most of our stuff. The train left an hour or so later, so we grabbed a drink at the tavern next to the station before lining up to get on the train. While we were standing there I noticed a woman standing very closely behind Molly, whose fingers were moving very rapidly around the zip pocket on the outside of Molly's bag. A loud "Hey!" from me and a quick pirouette from Molly followed, whereupon the woman managed to both slink off and look innocent- skillfully done.

After a couple of hours on the train we arrived at Aguas Calientes (now renamed Machu Picchu Pueblo), still in the Sacred Valley and at the foot of the hill climb to Machu Picchu. By then it was about 8pm, and dark, so we followed the crowd up the hill from the station to the town. We had been warned that it wasn't a very nice place, and it certainly wasn't pretty, but it was fine for what it was- a town providing services to tourists visiting the ruins. We checked into our hostel, called Supertramp,  grabbed a quick meal and fell into bed.

I could live in Lima (Molly)

San Cristobal, Lima

We arrived in Lima just as dawn was breaking. Oscar, the driver from our hotel, weaved us through the morning traffic and around the beachfront, lined with dusty promenades, shipping equipment and colonial and modern cafes jutting out on piers. Through our broken Spanish, we learned that he was originally from Chiclayo and that the light drizzle falling was almost unheard of in Lima this time of year.

I think travel always shows you something new about the person you're travelling with, and despite knowing Nick for more than 12 years, I've only just realised what a knack he has for languages. He took one semester of university Spanish 20 years ago and has managed to guide us around a country where English is often not spoken even in tourist areas (a refreshing change). I learned Spanish about 10 years ago with a lovely tutor (and now dear friend), Carol, who persisted in our class of 4 friends who were generally more interested in drinking Spanish wine than learning verb conjugations.

However, I try. And in trying, I have managed to say, "Soy avocado" (I am an avocado, or a lawyer", and  "Estoy delicioso" (I am delicious). I think it is to the Peruvian people's great credit that they don't crack up every time I open my mouth.

Here is our amazing hotel (Casa Nuestra) in Barranco, Lima:

We chose to stay out of central Lima, in the hip artists' district, which was an excellent choice. Barranco is filled with little cafes, shops and bars, all tucked away down streets with murals painted on walls and locals just going about their lives. We started out with an early breakfast at the excellent La Bodega Verde with freshly squeezed orange juice, freshly baked breads, freshly made jam, etc. Fuelled up, we went on a random wander of the area. We saw old churches, falling down colonial facades, and ultramodern restaurants. Apparently Peruvian cuisine is the 'newest thing' in places like New York and London, in case you didn't know.

Street art in Barranco, Lima

We ended up at that evening at Fiesta (the restaurant, not the casino) in Miraflores, which features cuisine from the coast of northern Peru. From various reviews we read, we decided try the Arroz con Pato a la Chiclayana (rice with duck, Chiclayana style)the Cebiche Caliente (spicy ceviche). The duck was very nice. The ceviche was stupefying. I believe you only have a handful of times in your life where you taste food this good. The bistecca fiorentina we had in a hole-in-the-wall restaurant in Florence was one, another was the chipati passed through a chain link fence in Nairobi. Thanks for the birthday present, Caitlin and Larry, and Kelika for the brilliant recommendation!

Ceviche of the Gods

The next day we went to Miraflores, which was clean and safe and pretty, but somehow lacking the soul of Barranco. We made our way on the Metropolitano train to the centre city, which was still dressed up for Independence Day celebrations from the past week. We took part in our favourite pastime, people watching, on the cathedral steps in the main square, and I thought I could happily live in Lima.

Plaza de Armas