Nazca Trails Hostel got some good reviews for its breakfast, half the reason we picked it, and they weren't entirely wrong. Lots of coffee (albeit instant, though Altomayo is a little like Starbucks' Via) and pancakes for a nice change, and off we go. Nazca town is fairly unchanged, despite the tourism, and its three blocks this way, three blocks this way to the bus terminal, where we will begin our cheap viewing of the notorious Nazca Lines.
Yet another example of things in South America (mostly Peru) that are 'mysterious' because no one knows where they came from, nor can agree why they were done, nor even what exactly they are pictures of. Not to take away from how clever the folk who made them were, given their perfect shaping over hundreds of meters, but if you've seen a documentary on the Lines then you don't really need to come here, because you're going to hand over US$85 to get on a plane for fifteen minutes and fly over them, not including 25soles tax.
Which is ok if you like that sort of thing. We, however, are in the throws of cheapness, and opt for a more unlikely scenario; onto a local bus, which will drop us on the roadside 30km from town at an edifice known as the Torre De Mirador, or Watchtower. About 35m high, you can see a few of the shapes relatively close up, and it all costs PNS$8 (Peruvian Nuevo Soles), or less than two quid.
Which actually isn't a bad way to do it. Its not as cheap an experience as the price suggests; you get a look at the actual ground and can begin to work out how exactly they were made (by a half-moon trowel by the look of it, scraped through the dirt). Its a wonder how they're still there, as we watch little sandstorms race across the plains, yet another lunar landscape, but here you have the benefit of the desert wind getting right up in your face.
You also get the pleasure of Bruno and his cohorts at the base of the tower selling you outrageously overpriced tat whilst you wait for a bus. Their banter wasn't bad, somewhat erroded the experience when he charged me four quid for two bracelets (about 50p each elsewhere, but sure), although he did invite Sarah and I to dinner at his house / restaurant that evening at 8pm.
Sadly, that appointment was not to be kept, somewhat paranoid about other people as we are. Back in town its lunchtime; we've already got our bus tickets for the next day, like a tube I left our passports in the hostel, and we had to go back to get them (no purchasing bus tickets in Peru without photo ID). Lunch started out as two PNS$9 set menu lunches, imbibing as much chincha morada as I could stomach, but it somehow became a celebration of the Pisco Sour, as we sat in a courtyard under thatched roof, watching the family putting covers on the schoolbooks of the two wee'uns, whilst the kids run around with their Incredible Hulk action figures. As we are leaving I explain to the mother that we have to do exactly the same thing back home. I'm not sure that revelation provides her with any sort of comfort for the years ahead.
Our excitement is done for the day. Back at the hostel we plan to relax and read, me with the final third of Trinity, Sarah with the Lonely Planet Guide to Peru. But daytime drinking has exhausted me and I pass out at 9pm. Maybe I was feeling some bad vibrations...
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