With a little consultation, we realised we could catch the 1pm bus to Nazca and be there 8 n a half hours later if we travelled with Cruz Del Sur. There have been more than one company with that name down here in South America, and I doubt they are affiliated, but so far none has been a disappointment.
We had enough time to catch one final museum and throw some lunch down our necks. We knew of a museum famous for housing an 'ice mummy', and given that we were never dressed appropriately to get into the churches, we settled for archeological findings instead. A find decision, as it turn out. The Museo Santuarios Andinos is dedicated to a single rite, that of human sacrifice to appease the Mountain Gods, and as such presents its artifacts with care and attention. Starting with a 20 minute documentary video of the archeologists who unearthed the mummy, we learn of the Incas' awe at the spirits made real in the rock, and when the volcanos spewed forth smoke and ash it meant displeasure at the presence of human feet on the mountainside. The human sacrifices had been raised in Cuzco, the Inca capital, separated since birth from their parents, and the chosen children were selected for their beauty and innocence. The 'ice mummy' most associated with this museum is called Juanita, and is considered a princess due to the quality of the cloth found wrapped around her.
Ok, so the museum is pretty cold, the sort of cold that makes me wish I had worn a jumper my ma had knitted, and the dim light reminds me of any number of crap nightclubs I have danced in. But the relics are fascinating, and our guides splintered English (let alone her duffle coat) make it engaging. We tip her at the end of the tour. There are little metal statues that are buried with the sacrifice to attract lightning, as this electricity is considered to be the fingers of the gods reaching down to take the Earthly tributes. Plates and fabrics tell us about the social status of the poor child who, after four or five months walking from Cuzco, was given chicha to intoxicate him / her and then had his / her head cleaved in with a big bit of wood. The mummy of Juanita was found in the crater of the volcano after hundreds of years, as the explosion of ash from its neigbour melted its ice cap: fortuitously, as archeologists arrived two weeks later and found her immaculately preserved corpse resting in the blazing sun.
Yeah, wonderful, and definitely worth the 20 Soles. I'm hungry. We head towards our hostel and stumble across as restaurant in a courtyard that refuses to offer us the full lunch menu as its 11.40am and it's not on til noon. We get mediocre steak and chips, but cannot complain for 10 Soles. I have another big glass of chicha morado, a purple corn drink that is non-alcoholic and tastes like cold mulled wine (sort of). Its 12.30pm. We get to the hostel, get a taxi, get to the terminal, get a ticket, get on a bus, leave.
Were it so straight-forward. We have climbed aboard a Cruz Del Sur bus. If we berated Chile for its lack of security, Peru is a welcome over-the-top response. We are video'd getting on the bus. We are counted by camera as we sit on the bus. No-one gets within a dozen yards of the bus without a ticket. The man with the gun is making sure everyone is safe. I feel a lot better. The complementary lunch doesnt hurt, seeing as it is sweet 'n' sour chicken, and the free water, and later free coffee, all help.
Sadly, what doesn't help is the view. We go up and down relentlessly. Sometimes we descend 4000m in five minutes, only to rise again the same in ten minutes. When we reach the coast we have the benefit of sweeping hills and a blood red sun which last only long enough for us to realise they would be gone soon. They were. We continue to swoop round corners and look petrified in seats 3 and 4 of the coach, up top and up front. We watched the Arequipa hills vanish into the landscape behind us. Its still beautiful, albeit cloudy and changable. The Andes really do run up to the sea and stop suddenly. It's an eight hour journey that takes ten, yet again. Our driver is keen to make up time, which makes some of those clifftop corners a little hairier than we'd like. As we pull into Nazca bus station, and the efficient cry of 'NAZCA!' comes from the bus stewardess, we disembark.
In Peru there are two kinds of bus terminals; those which house a multitude of bus companies, at which you must pay an embarcation tax (25p or so) and those which are for a single company, which are free to use. We, seasoned travellers, have resigned ourselves that for all Peru's fine upstanding qualities, dealing with taxi drivers is going to be a bit of a pain. Almost all are in thrall to some hotel or other, and if you are determined to get to a specific place then determined you must be. Fortunately, tonights driver isn't too obnoxious, and we get to Nasca Trails Hostel with only one unscheduled stop. Inside we have very pleasant hosts and a private room with excellent bathroom. Peru seems to enjoy its darkly-coloured toilet bowls. This one is navy blue. Perhaps this is a very sensible choice, given a little thought.
It's late, and we sleep. Cruz Del Sur's choice of movies are rather depressing (check out 'My Name Is Khan' for those who doubt me) and we watch the last 40 minutes of Minority Report before passing out.
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