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Vulcan gripped massage ladies and toilet paper.....and interesting last few days.....
21st nov
Now today was a reality check. At 9am with stuff ready to go at 1pm, we boarded a ‘Reality tour’ that this local dude set up to give money to the needey and to show the real peru. I saw this man in his mid 60’s sweating away in quarry, pick-axe in hand, caving out rock from steep hills to make into polished bricks which later builders would buy, they needed to be a correct sized, polished and ready or he would not get paid. He got paid like 10s, under £3 a day.....he has to work still as no one else. They live right by the quaryy and that is his and his families life. The stone bricks were white, which is what areiqipa is known for.....white bricks.(from a backbreaking paid crap men of all ages). Next we went onto a cemetery, which are so beautiful in any Spainsh country. They celebrate the day of the dead at the binging of novemeber where they bring in their dead relatives favourite things to their graves. They believe for that one night they are their with them enjoying their favourite things. For example I saw one grave has some Kola. The volcanoes were a beautiful back drop to the many colors of the sites. When I say sites, they split up the dead. It is a Catholic country so killing yourself is not really the way to go. There is a number of young people after schooling decide ‘*uck this hard work and nothing to live for’ and kill themselves. There is a separate less colourful area for them. There are the childrens sites then the rich with huge church temples as graves. There are also these what you would call ‘morge’ graves I guess. This is a cement rectangle with holes for literally just the coffins to slot into. They are built up and I think these are for the poorer people...maybe.
Next we went onto a local Ophange, Our tour guide all the way along paid the people we saw with our money to help the less fountune side of Peru. The children seemed happy. All had yellow little play-suits on. This one girl kept hitting this boy (they will probably be married in 15years). Almost next door to the orphanage was a soupr kitchen. This is where familes who are hard up to eat come. The people who are hard up to eat’s wives take it in turns each week to cook, so everyone else can work. They then pay like next to nothing for the food. Great idea. It gives everyone a chance. The ‘reality’ tour ended overlooking the slums and I realised just how lucky I have been.....
Got back to hotel and jumped straight into a pizza joint, took ages to cook then onto that evil truck via volcanoes to end up near Cocla canyon for the morning. It was about 6pm when we got to the hotel. Simple, but nice, went straight out and were told to check out the markets for cheap food! Considering I’ve been s***ting through a needle alot recently myself and a few others opted for a restaurant that apprantly did awesome hot chocolate. Only ones in, they lit us a couple of fires and we ordered. I just got some soup as I wasn’t feeling too hot. When the bill came at the end, the woman had mucked it up. There was like a menu of the day section, where only the food we ordered was in, 1 starter and 1 main for like 13.50s. 6dollars! Nice. She’d priced them individually for some reason or to make more money on a slow day..... once it sorted as we wrote it out ourselves from help of maz’ iphone calculator...I got up. We were sat on wooden benches. The benches’ leg that I was only on at this point when I moved it to get out snapped in half!!! I still have my arm in a sling so like i was hardly strong!! I just legged it to where some of the others were a few doors down. I left an angry waitress and a broken bench.....serves them right for being greedy I guess...kama. Joined the others in the irish bar, and i naughtly played pool. It hurt....arm still b*****ed. A band kicked off outside in the plaza and a mini street party kicked off at 11pm.....this went on to all hours (I could hear from my bed!)
22nd
Woke up again stupidly early after yet another sleepless night. Street party noise and sh*tting through a needle. What is wrong with this country? I boarded this bus from the 1960’s to Cocla Canyon. Driving along the bumpy road I was sure the bus was falling apart around us. After an hour s drive, we were there - 8am and stayed till 9.30am to beat the crowds apparently. Cocla Canyon is deeper than the grand canyon and was THE deepest in the worlds till one was found nearby (like they’d missed this huge other hole in te ground before!). It is also famous for it’s beautiful Condors that glide in the Canyons thermals. The Condor that I saw was just so graceful and calming to watch. I walked away from the growing crowd to sit up the very top bit of the lookout and along the road abit. I sat there enjoying the view, minding my own business when this random woman dressed all in white with a huge floppy J-lo hat on approached me. She was around her mid 30’s, quite pretty apart from the missed bits of bright red lipstick on her teeth. She at first seemed to want to practice her English, I was in no rush, so I had a mini chat with her. Simple things like ‘have you a brother? Where are you from’ etc. 20minutes later the conversation was getting more interesting as she started to tell me (in broken English) that her sister was in London and living illegally (here we go...). “...as she is illegal she cannot buy a laptop to email me” ....the whole thing didn’t surprise me as for one the UK seems to let anyone sneak in and I just knew the woman has a purpose with me. I explained in bad Spainish (spainish pharse book in hand) that I was not going back for a long time. She did not understand. She asked for my email address. I gave her a fake one and made my excuse that I had to go to meet my amigos. I got back to the 1960’s bus after being slightly email-money abused face to face at the canyon. A few people mentioned they saw this woman and were considering saving me! Thanks...I think!
We made a few photo stops on the way back to our hostel. Saw more locals by the side of the road wearing their bright outfits and selling the same crap. Interesting that back from the Condor bit of the canyon it was more of a green valley for growing rather than the desert landscape just 10min up the road. Now, I do not agree with what I then did, but I could not help this one tourist trap. I had my photo taken with a Llama and a Condor. This Peru lady was dressed in bright pink, had a Llama tied up and a Condor. I love animals and did not agree really with it, but it would carry on anyway if I got a photo or not. Truth. Got back to the hostel and then back onto the overland truck. We were off to Puno. On the drive the landscape can only be described as like Scotland. The weather turned too, so it was wet and stormy. Very like Scotland.
23th puno on lake tit
Early starts are not becoming easier for me. First thing I did this morning was mount a cycle cart to get a ride down the hill to the ferryport. They were mental drivers they did not care there were cars about to hit us etc, they had things under control....I think! You’d have to be really fit to cycle 2 people up and down the Puno hills! Respect. On the boat to lake Titicaca then, and the boat inside surprisingly looked like a plane! Yes....a plane. It had plane seats. There was a roof as well that we could go on once we were 10minutes out of the port from the coastguards!
Pulled upto one of the reed islands. We were greeted by 6women dressed in bowler hats and clothed in bright pink and blues dresses. There was the landing dock and in a semi circle in from out us about 6 houses, which infront of them were little rugs or stalls so they can sell their stuff. They said they made the items they sold, some items I agreed they did, but then others I’m sure I saw the exact same next to Cocla Canyon the other day. A ‘local’ dude showed how the reed islands are made and anchored. Pretty clever. We were all sat down in a semi circle to watch the demotstration on a huge bench made from reeds. It was so comfortable! No piles here....
I was taken into one womans house. She had a baby. Her husband joined her and told us a little about their house. He built it. They have solar power and had a tiny old skool TV in the corner of the room and half the house was the bed that the whole family would sleep on. The house, bed and mini table for TV was all made out of reeds. Later my tour guide said alot of them do not live on the islands and just boat in each day....most of the islands are just purelymade for tourists. Makes sense. Why live in the reeds when just 20minutes away you’re in the city?! The ladies sang a few songs (one was twinkle twinkle little star!) as we left their island on another boat – a reed boat. It was powered by 2 men rowing us to the next island where our ‘plane’ boat picked us up.
The sun was out in force now as we hit late morning and our boat took us a few hours across lake Titicaca to another island where we stayed for the night! The sun was strong so I laid out like a pornstar on the back of the boat to get some sun.
Once we approached the island we are staying on tonight the first thing that hit me was that the island was basically a big steep hill. That means high altitude walking again..no!!! We got off the boat and we could see some mothers waiting for us and waving. I felt a little nervous. It was a strange feeling, which probably was a little like in the war and the kids were being evactued to the country. We were there, freshly burned from the sun, rucksack in hand looking at the mothers and hoping I was in a family with no screaming kids. My name was called along with my 2 friends Wendy and Scott. We stepped forward to accept our fait. A young mother with a 2year old child strapped to her back was introduced to us. 20minutes after puffing up the huge hill like a pack of old dogs, we arrived at her house! It was right in the centre of the village by the main meeting point – the football pitch and hall. Our room was lovely! The toilet we had to fill up with water, but yeah, really nice. The rest of the house we could not see. I nosed a little bit and they really did not give themselves much,and us everything. I felt humbled. Our host mumma made us soup and potatoes for a late lunch followed by a hat! She has made typical Peru woolly hats and we basically had to have one for now, but could decide later if we wanted to buy it... We sat next to the football ‘gathering’ place and watched the boys abit, our host mothers were next to us knitting away! Bless them! The host mummas went to then cook dinner, while we walked up to the very top of the hill to watch the sunset... I did not quite make it for sunet...I was finding the altitude hard going. I was at the back chatting to the local tour guide and he said ‘would you like to rest’ I replied with ‘I want to be sick’ and straight away turned and puked on the stone wall. Sexy eh?!
After getting down the hill, I carried on feeling ill, the host mumma gave us more grub. She served us up in the kitchen on this tiny table with a brightly coloured red table cloth. We helped peel the potatoes (well I say well....Wendy and I (even though Id just been puking up the mountain!)) All very lovely food though....sick was not included. Yes, we had more soup and potatoes, but it was awesome! 8am rolled around and it was fiesta time in the hall. Our host grand mumma dressed us up in Peru costumes. The skirt was huge, it put like 6 sizes on me and I suddenly had to be more aware of my size for sitting and walking etc. There was a shirt with flowers on it slipped over my head and a huge material belt wrapped around me (just below my breasts). It was so tight I could hardly breathe! I felt ill as it was, so this was not helping. We looked silly. We got to the fiesta and we were the first ones there.....nooooo! It was a dusty hall with 2 bands, one at either end of the hall. The bands were made up of alot of the families older children, so this whole host family thing, was a huge family affair. We were told that the fiesta was only upto 2 hours and I guess now that may have been something to do with the kids who had school in the mornings....Fiesta did not last long, our grand mumma took us and was there to dance with us. I had a great excuse of my bad arm...and the fact I was puking up the mountain earlier! Lol! Back in our cute bedroom, the only light bit on electric they had in their whole house went down, so grand mumma bought us up a candle, very cute.
24th
Woken up for breakfast of the best pancake in the whole world! Thanked our host families with some soaps and shampoos we bought them, then a huge storm hit us! P*ssing it with rain and thunder we had to walk down the 20min steep hill to the boat. We were drenched, coz of course our raincoats were on the truck! Doh! We sang random songs’ i can see clearly now the rain has gone’ and ‘singing in the rain’ while walking down. The lake Titicaca looked nothing like yesterday. It was rough and mean. I left very ill and spent most of the boat ride holding onto the back door of the boat and puking elumliuss yellow sick over the boat. It was windy, so alot came back at me....not pretty. The boat was tossed and turned very dramatically that at once it seemed like it was going to completely turn over. We could not dock as the water was too rough on the next planned island. We had to go to the other side. I was feeling really sick and was so bored of it at this point. We then docked 5minutes later and the storm calmed. It would do now wouldn’t it?! This island was like the one we stayed on last night. Basically a hill. We were told to walk to 500 steps to the top. It was like a brutal death march. They were trying to finish me off or something?! Lake Titicaca is the highest and biggest in the world......to walk 500 steps in altitude is hard let alone after puking my guts out on a bad rollercoaster. Got to the top eventually.....we walked almost horizontally next to some Inca remains. I sat down and had abit of an oxygen panic attack. My fingers turned blue and I passed out. Next thing I knew I was flat on my back, people surrounding me and helping me to breathe as if I was giving birth. I was given a head massage. We walked down the hill to the village for lunch and to the hospital to hook me up to an oxygen tank for 10minutes if I needed it. I felt a little better the time I was escorted off the Inca remains by the tour guide. At lunch I didn’t want any food...I just felt sooo rough. Got back to Puno at 4pm and I went straight to bed.....
25th
Hardly any sleep as I was sooooo rough yesterday and through the night. It did not help that my room mates were on the lash last night and one ended up crying for hours back at ours around 1am. Once I did get like 5minutes sleep I got woken up by Jess ‘ girls its 7.30’...5min later we on the truck. Driving day to Cuzco. I had to decide today if I was up for the Inca trail or not.....after my oxygen attack yesterday, sh*tting through a needle, having to order my own personal porter and pay him 50 dollas, plus my temperature, sick and the arm still....I decided it would be stupid to do it. Hard decision, but if I carried on taking a turn for the worse, I may not even make it up the trail and never see Matchu Pitchu... Abit gutted, but it’s better to see it than not at all....taking the train on Monday. Girls went out for another big one tonight, which I couldn’t do, but joined them for food first.
26th Still ill this morning. Grrr bored of this soooooo much. Heard about last nights ‘group’ shenanigans..... There was an Inca trail meeting pretty much outside my bedroom window at 9am this morning. I was still puking this morning, so I did not feel bad about now having to pull out. Tour Guide came to see how I was and had another motive. She asked me an illegal thing... there was a c*** up at the office and for some reason one of the other girls (who was well) passport details were not given in so there was no permit for her to walk the Inca trail. She had dark hair, much shorter, Irish with green eyes. Looked nothing like me! You needed to prove with your passport that you are the Inca Trail permit holder, as only 500 are given out each day and you have to book well in advance. She was upset big time. The office came up with the solution of passing her off as me.
She bought a big J-lo floppy hat, a scarf and were going to have 2 people either side of ‘pretend me’ to talk about ‘philippa’ in the permit lineup. I was unsure of this, as were they like police that would take away my passport if they realise its not me etc.? I was ill and suddenly did not like this guilty feeling that had been put on me, through no fault of my own. They are museum police, so would not take the passport apparently. I went along with it as I was assured it would be ok. We have to swap back passports at sunrise Monday at Matchu Pitchu when I get off the train. All very dodge and I feel like I’m in some kind of spy movie suddenly. Not happy with it at all. Your passport is well. Your passport!!!
27th
4.30am, I heard the alarm in my room, Sarah, Shell and Romana were off trekking with the others on the lack of oxygen inca trail death trap. They faffed. The crushing of plastic bags, chatting and the stomping about the room went on for what seemed like forever. Unlucky for me this time, my bed was by the door. I was just saying to myself ‘get the f*ck out already’. Hate faffing - especially at 4.30am!! To make things worse our room was just below reception so I heard the 20 odd others gathering. Chatting loudly, the stomping, the noises of luggage being shifted. The walls could only be paper-thin. I was pretty *issed off. BUT then silence at just gone 5am....hurrah!! sleep!! Could I get back to sleep though? Could I fu*k. Grrrrr. I thought OK, ipod and Entourage. Did not work, Dam it! That was it I was wide awake at 5am.
Changed rooms from 127 to 107 as now it was just me, myself and I. The room had no bathroom and I think there are better cells in jail. 2 cold slightly stained white bed covers lay on the single 2 beds, wooden floor, a half open window with no curtain (there was no way of shutting it). Nice. Anyways took laundry next door after writing out 2 lists of what I was giving them. Apparently items go missing alot around here and sometimes weeks later you see your clothes being worn....
It was still only 9am. Waddled around some of the Cuzco markets, ‘friend you buy’ ‘what you would like’ ‘I have good price’ were all shouted at me. Thing is they pretty much sell the same things, so I don’t know why they don’t club together and have the monopoly. I bought nothing though. I felt abit mean getting up their little hopes then crushing them down their necks. I just know that tourist trinkets seem cool abroad, but then when you actually get home your like ‘why the f’uck did I buy this’. I know as I’ve recently had a big clear out back in London.
The Cuzco streets were full of people, one way or another they were all fighting to get you in their restaurants, shops, bars etc One lady did good! ‘Want a massage, pedicure, facial’. I didn’t even have to think about that. It’ll cost like nothing and it may help my arm! Hurrah! So this 4ft dark haired Peru lady started walking besides me using the trick of ‘getting to be your friend’. She’s say things like ‘what your name? Where you from’ ‘I give you my friend a great price’ ‘ gimme 2 minutes I show you’. I already was wanting the goods lady, I just found it funny you were still trying!! She tool me just off the main plaza to this small square (hence why they had leaflet people on the main roads). I walked in and through 2 big grey stable like metal doors was this really clean, green and cream room full of massage tables with dividing curtains. She played me 2 seconds of chilled music (to show how relaxing it was. Later on I was to find out there was not much more to the CD music as it kept skipping).’So massage’ she said. YES LOVE. PLEASE just get on with it!!! Got taken to one corner and I was told to get undressed. No-one else was in the massage room. The last massage I had was in October at the glitzy MGM Grand hotel spa in Las Vegas. This little lady has alot to live upto! I was naked apart from my pants and bra and thinking (I know this is bad) where to put my purse so I can keep an eye on it. Looking around at the plain, clean place I decided the window sill. I could see peoples feet around the massage table through the facial hole. awesome. Money safe, but am I? This other short lady rocked up about 5minutes after my decision of where to shove my money. I was naked pretty much and cold.....I was wondering if she ever was going to come back! The Peru lady looked about 14. She had a stereohead piece in one ear and asked if I wanted it ‘hard, medium or soft’ (for once my dirty mind was switched off as I was just confused at what was about to be let loose on my bad shoulder). I said HARD. The reason being, as if you say soft you basically don’t get anything and medium probably wouldn’t get right in there as it were. She spoke no English; my Spanish is rubbish so I just accepted my fait and would shout if in pain.
It was painful. Good painful....sometimes....there were times when I was like ‘just abit more to the left and you’ll have it’ It was like she knew how to massage, but not necessarily where the muscles were. Being an radio presenter the last 10years I was more concerned that her relaxing CD kept skipping. God! I did not realise how bad a shape my eg had got back into (I have a bad knee), but not surprised at the pain on the shoulder. I think I will have bruises tomorrow. She went from my lower back towards my shoulders along the spine clicking me an dI was sure that when she got to the top my shoulder would pop out again. I moved my head up so she did not do the top bit. She was no MGM grand, but to be fair she was like 1/80 the price! Lol! She said the magic words ‘finished’. Thank god. The moves that were like Vulcan grips are no more....
Fully dressed now, I waddled out of the stable like doors and she’s there with both music headpieces in her ears. She asks if I’d like a pedicure. Being dazed and confused, I needed a moment to relax after my body abuse so I thought ‘go on you’ve done all the damage already’. My Cayman islands pedicure was a little chipped now.....lets see how she matches up to the wonder-woman at the Marriot, Grand Cayman...
It started off with her using up half her bottle of nail varnish remover to get off the hardcore Caymans pedicure. I then noticed her glass cabinet of pedicure goodies was full of Johnsons baby oil and like 10 colours of nail varnish (which is not alot). Interesting to see where this was going. She then called for her mate to get her a bowl of hot water. Feet were put in it to soak. The water was pretty cold. She gave my feet a mini shrub with this almost empty apricot scrub. She attacked my cuticles with a folk thing, sawed my feet and moisturised......painted, done. It was the most brutal pedicure I’d had done in my life! It was like one a vet would give a horse. 35s though! Just under 15dollars!! 15dollars for the whole 1 hour torture massage and horse pedicure....nice work!!
Now I cannot forgive myself to what then happened. I was hungry and I did the one thing that I hate to do in foreign country. I went to McDonalds! I had too. Hungry. Tastes the same by the way.
Uploaded photos and had internet time. 6pm rolled on and it was time to pick up the laundry. Thinking the worst I rocked up with my copy of the list of clothes I gave them. Counted my clothes on the table and they were all there. Good job! I just heard stories (even from our tour guide) of laundry people loosing things and then end up weeks later being seen wearing the lost said items...... Owed the dude 33s, almost the same for my torture massage!! Dam it! Gave him 53s. He then ran off....I was like... erm....what?! I guess he’s getting change then. Came back 10minutes later (probably running half the town) and gave me my change. Job done. 2minutes later he came running after me. He spoke Spanish (obviously) at me and if the dude heard our previous lack of convo, would know I speak b***** all (for once!). I was just inside my hotel at this point and he had to get the hotel reception and people in lobby (a total of 6people) to get me to understand that he gave me too much change. Silly boy! I mean lets be honest in most foreign countries we just accept the change we are given is correct and go on our merry way! I didn’t want him to get a spanking from his mum so I gave him 5s.....after all of that he only wanted about 2quid back from me. Alot of money in Peru to be fair.
When I decided to hit the sack, it had been pouring with rain outside forever, some of the rain drizzling through my window I could not close in my cell. It was then I realised I was going to bed looking something like an 1980’s Madonna misfit. I have my grey thermals (bought at good old Walmart as I faced the Yellowstone national park snow the other month), pink fluffy aloe vera sleep socks (also from walmart). Covering over my grey thermal bottoms are my little South beach Miami black shorts (still trying to keep ahold of Key West/Miami weather). On the top I have my grey thermal top, diesel now off-white tshirt, huge blue Yellowstone jumper with hood up AND north face fleece on. Plus my hair, as I’d been lying on my bed was ruffled like a lions main.
28th Nov, Saturday
Todays lesson was to always - always -ALWAYS take toilet paper with you when going to any toilet (even if its in a restaurant or hotel). At 9am this morning I completely forgot this rule until I’d done my messy business and had that one moment where my face properly went white with horror. F*ck. OK, the next glamours thing is I had to think about the consistency of my s***, as in would it run down my leg. Luckily I just shoved on a demin skirt and a big jumper to run to the communal toilets. I stood up slowly hoping not to make anymore mess. Nothing! Hurrah. Sothe little plan was to just get to the sink as no one else was in the toilets. Clean myself quickly, as easy due to skirt. I waddled out the cublie, still very aware not to make sudden movements (just incase of trickles). There was no ruddy soap. Great. So I had to walk up about 20 stairs in the middle of an open courtyars, which everyones room looks out onto, hoping to keep my dignity intact. My wet wipes in my rucksack never seemed so far away. I popped my head out of the main toilet door. No one around. Good. I checked my hair in the mirror (I mean that was the least of my worries, but I had to have something going for me just incase of a meet alonf the way). I decided a quick brisk walk to get it over and done with to get to the haven of my cell with wet wipes. I took to the stairs like a mountain goat, with my hair flowing behind (and hopefully nothing else). A quick walk 3metres to my room. Key was in hand, at the right height ready for quick entry. I could see infront of me a biggrop of people in reception hoping to god I knew none of them and they wouldn’t shout me my name. Key was now in the lock, I turned it, it wouldn’t open. I turned it the other way and the other, now in pure panic to only realise it was the room next door.
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