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After metropolises, towns, 4 hut jungle villages, beaches, islands, rain and cloud forests, mountains, volcanoes, next came the desert.With this particular desert came earthquake territory too.Ica, the nearest town to our next destination had an earthquake or 8.0 on the Richter scale just 4 months ago.It killed 513 people, injured 1,100, and left as many as 100,000´s homeless.They actually experience earthquakes every day but mostly they are small enough not to be felt.Keeping all my fingers and toes crossed we arrived in Huacachina, an Oasis in the desert surrounded by massive sand dunes and reminiscent of something out of Lawrence of Arabia.¨The best fun you can have with your clothes on¨With a description like that I´d be crazy to not give it a go.They were talking about Dune bugging and sand boarding.Alter having quad biked before and ended up rolling it, with the wheels landing still spinning inches from my FACE, and some pretty disappointing sandboarding in Western Australia I wasn´t convinced it could live up to the hype.But everyone was raving about it and wow they were right.The dune buggy did ressemble a bug,a bug made of roll bars and it powered up incredible gradients and zoomed down the other side at scream producing speeds.The driver was using all his expertise to give us the biggest thrills without the spills.It felt like the best rollercoaster I´ve ever encountered.Next was sandboarding and belly down I scared myself stupid pelting down, steeper and steeper and longer and longer slopes, each time returning to the buggy and joining the chorus of requests to the driver from the others of ¨mas grande¨ until we´d exhausted even his most terrifying dunes.Our sides splitting from laughing over the tumbles, bellies red from bumping over ridges in the sand we got back into the buggy to go to a summit anw match the sun go down.It was spectatular to see the tranquil beauty of the sunset over the mountains of sand stretching to the horizon.Well of course what follows sunset but sunrise and this time it was going to be a solo excursion to climb a dune for what was promised to me to be an amazing vantage point.At 4.30am the alarm sounded and I started trekking up the dune in the dark.No buggy to save my legs this time.The sand gave way with every football and I wasn´t convinced I was making any headway at all, it just felt like natures stairmaster.But bit by bit I made progress, shedding my layers as I started to sweat and praying that all my efforts wouldn´t be sabotaged by a misty morning.Spurred on by Rebecca´s previous ascent time of 22 mins, I made it in 18 (competitive…moi???!). I reached the ridge just as the sky was starting to colour.There was a mist below in the valley but above that it was beautifully clear.The soft light made the sand appear purple, but then it turned to pinky and then took on some yellowish tones waiting for the sun´s rays to hit it so it could take on it´s golden glory.The wind picked up and I was certainly waiting for the suns rays to hit me too.Piling back on the layers I´d removed my trousers started flapping and acting like sails and I started hoping that the anchor I´d made with my feet in the sand would keep me balanced on the ridge.Camera poised, my impatience for the sun to rise so I could take the shots, turned to wonder as I started to really be present there, alone on that ridge surrounded by beauty, with my thoughts and sensations sharpened by underlying vunerability of being on my own at the mercy of natures capricious and in this part of the world dangerous forces. The silence of the desert was broken by the crowing of cockerels in a village far, far below me announcing the arrival of the sun,and instead of grabbing my camera straight away I just enjoyed the beauty (…then took about 50 shots)Having had such amazing luck with the sunrise I wasn´t too surprised that the mist came in with avengence later.Unfortunately we were due to cruise around the Ballestas Islands (poor mans Galapogos) and the mist meant us waiting at the dock looking dejectedly at the red flan signalling that no boats could sail.Luckily we had a pool back at the Oasis to chill by instead.Dragging myself away from the wonderful sanddunes was hard but we had a date with the famous Nazca lines.Our transport to Nazca were 3 old American cars, definitely past their prime, and our half deaf driver even had to put a rock in front of the front tyre whenever we stopped.He drove like a man posessed, overtaking everything in his way, and had us gibbering in the back and closing our eyes.The lines are etched in the desert and form the shape of animals up to 100m long, but can only be seen from the air even though they date back to 200 BC.Theories about about their origins, my favourite is that they were made by aliens.Alter paying for our flight, airport tax, and a newly created tax imposed for flying over the lines (tourist suckers!) we jumped into the 6 seater and prepared ourselves for a bumpy ride.I bagsed co pilot spot although thankfully that didn´t actually entail any ruties.We swooped and banked sharply left and right to best see the lines.Halfway through mosto f us were looking rather green and looking forward to touch down.A monkey, hummingbird, spider, alcatraz, tree, astronaut, parrot, dog, pair of hands and a condor later we landed mercifully without having needed to use any of the sickbags.The afternoon´s activity was a visit to the Cemetary of Chauchilla, uncovered tombs with sunbleached bones and mummies, still with some skin, eyeballs, tongues and hair (in some cases ragtails sprouting from their skulls of over a metre).It was a surreal sight.Even more disturbing were the limbs poking out of the soil having been disturbed by tomb robbers raids and then shoddily recovered so close to the surface.A bit of light relief was well hended alter that and as we prepared ourselves for the night bus that evening, Alice my room buddy revealed 2 pieces of her travellers kit that had us in stitches.Any men squemish about ¨women´s things¨ might want to jump ahead a paragraph now. The first was a ¨she-pee¨, which allows you to pee like a man.Absolutely flabbergasted we demanded to see it and she produced what best can be described as a small funnel on an angle which apparently she´d tried and tested at the Glastonbury festival.Bang goes one of the drawbacks of being a female, and for another one she has a mooncup.I won´t go into any details but just to say it´s for THAT time of the month.
On the subject of everything toilet related.South America may have made giant leaps and bounds with their technology infrastructure since my last visit, but they´re plumbing still sucks.In the 3 star hotels we stay in, it´s all mod cons but you still can´t put your toilet paper down the toilet.Planning toilet stops whilst sightseeing or travelling becomes a strategic exercise.Bus stations are generally bearable, you get charged for using the toilet plus extra for the luxury of loo roll but don´t expect a wash hand basin or soap or both.Thank goodness for anti bacterial getl!Most buses on long journeys have a toilet but you are only allowed to pee (and apparently they check,but HOW??)It´s an experience on the windy roads, with the coach attendant waiting outside the door until you´ve finished.Toilet stops may be requested at any time but a suitable size bushes to hide behind are not guaranteed.All in all our group has tended towards rationing of water and immodium.See this is traveller´s bonding, only been in each others company for a few days, and we´re well versed on each other´s toilet tactics!
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