Day 70 - Ayacucho, Peru
Yesterday afternoon we were finally able to leave Lima. Ted and I now suspect that the cause of my recent health troubles stemmed from the restaurant in Chimbote where we had eaten supper before heading to Lima. We ordered parillas (they bring a BBQ full of meat right to your table). The meat was probably fine, but the half a dozen sauces were most likely not. Ted had noticed them scooping the leftover sauce back into containers after a group at another table had finished their meal. Needless to say I did not witness this unsanitary behaviour. Nor was I informed of its occurrence. Hmmmm, I wonder if Ted was getting me back for something...I can´t imagine what though. If I had known I certainly would not have lathered my meat with the sauces. I have been paying for it for three days.
Near Pisco we turned inland, and quickly emerged from the coastal fog which descends in April and doesn´t lift until December. That´s right, Lima doesn´t see the sun for 9 months of the year. That´s even worse than Vancouver. I think the lack of sunlight was starting to affect Ted. At breakfast, he felt that his Papaya juice wasn´t coming fast enough. Normally the calmest most patient guy on the planet, it seemed out of character when he angrily stood up, tracked down the waitress, and demanded his Papaya juice. Don´t keep Ted waiting for Papaya juice first thing in the morning.
On the way out of Lima, we had to fight the normal crush of traffic going every which way and ignoring lanes and traffic signals. Worst drivers on the planet? In any case, Ted thought that a taxi got a little too close to his motorbike, so he kicked the side of it. The driver was not impressed. But I guess Ted can be excused for having issues with taxis...I think it would be a good conversation starter if you asked Ted what he thinks of Peruvian drivers.
Shortly after turning inland, we stopped at the Inca ruins called Tambas Colorado. It was after 5 PM by the time we got there and the gate to the parking lot was closed. That didn´t stop us from driving our motorcycles around the gate and hiking through the ruins. I even got up on top of the walls and started jumping from one wall to the next above the ancient city (don´t worry, there were footprints up there so I wasn´t the first to do this). Because it was closed and we had the place to ourselves, we were able to ride the motorcycles up a footpath and park them right next to the ruins for a photo-opportunity.
The road followed a steep river valley carved out of desert mountains. Compared to the coast, the route we were following was vitually unpopulated. We were starting to think maybe we would have to camp. We decided we would try to find a hotel in the next town, which we thought was about 50 km away. When we got there, it was pitch black. It was a tiny pueblo. I stopped at a store to ask if there was a hotel in town. A kind old gentlemen offered to lead us to the hotel. He started walking down the highway, and we followed on our bikes. After a few paces, he stopped and asked us if we wanted to stay in the house of God. Why not? The pastor, Mano Hernandes, got on the back of my bike and we rode into the darkness. It was a good thing it was too dark to see how rough the road was or I would have been hesitant to ride it, especially with a passenger. I wouldn´t want to spill an elderly pastor off the back of my bike.
That was how we came to sleep on the floor of a small church (Casa del Oracion Evangelico de Jesus Cristo) in the village of Reposo. We were served food and coffee. There was one awkward moment when I asked where the bano was. After a brief silence, I was told: "No hay bano. Campo." I was directed to the rocks outside. The stars were amazingly bright. The Milky Way (la careterra) shone brighter than I had ever seen it.
After dinner, there was a service in which we were the stars of the show. We were introduced to the entire congregation (about 20 people). No one spoke a word of English. Mano Fernandes´ gave a sermon that included songs, prayers, and blessings. People would pray out loud, and sing and chant while clapping their hands. There was a lot energy in the room, which was lit by candlelight because there was no electricity.
Much of Mano Fernandes sermon revolved around us. He talked about how God would provide a safe place for us to stay and food for us to eat. He said that when he saw us on our motorbikes he had sensed that we had love in our hearts. At one point he touched each of our foreheads in turn and asked God to keep us safe on our journey and to help us become good doctors.
We had told him earlier about Ted´s crash with the taxi. He made much of this story in his sermon. He said that Ted was there by the grace of God. I am not one to argue that.
Near Pisco we turned inland, and quickly emerged from the coastal fog which descends in April and doesn´t lift until December. That´s right, Lima doesn´t see the sun for 9 months of the year. That´s even worse than Vancouver. I think the lack of sunlight was starting to affect Ted. At breakfast, he felt that his Papaya juice wasn´t coming fast enough. Normally the calmest most patient guy on the planet, it seemed out of character when he angrily stood up, tracked down the waitress, and demanded his Papaya juice. Don´t keep Ted waiting for Papaya juice first thing in the morning.
On the way out of Lima, we had to fight the normal crush of traffic going every which way and ignoring lanes and traffic signals. Worst drivers on the planet? In any case, Ted thought that a taxi got a little too close to his motorbike, so he kicked the side of it. The driver was not impressed. But I guess Ted can be excused for having issues with taxis...I think it would be a good conversation starter if you asked Ted what he thinks of Peruvian drivers.
Shortly after turning inland, we stopped at the Inca ruins called Tambas Colorado. It was after 5 PM by the time we got there and the gate to the parking lot was closed. That didn´t stop us from driving our motorcycles around the gate and hiking through the ruins. I even got up on top of the walls and started jumping from one wall to the next above the ancient city (don´t worry, there were footprints up there so I wasn´t the first to do this). Because it was closed and we had the place to ourselves, we were able to ride the motorcycles up a footpath and park them right next to the ruins for a photo-opportunity.
The road followed a steep river valley carved out of desert mountains. Compared to the coast, the route we were following was vitually unpopulated. We were starting to think maybe we would have to camp. We decided we would try to find a hotel in the next town, which we thought was about 50 km away. When we got there, it was pitch black. It was a tiny pueblo. I stopped at a store to ask if there was a hotel in town. A kind old gentlemen offered to lead us to the hotel. He started walking down the highway, and we followed on our bikes. After a few paces, he stopped and asked us if we wanted to stay in the house of God. Why not? The pastor, Mano Hernandes, got on the back of my bike and we rode into the darkness. It was a good thing it was too dark to see how rough the road was or I would have been hesitant to ride it, especially with a passenger. I wouldn´t want to spill an elderly pastor off the back of my bike.
That was how we came to sleep on the floor of a small church (Casa del Oracion Evangelico de Jesus Cristo) in the village of Reposo. We were served food and coffee. There was one awkward moment when I asked where the bano was. After a brief silence, I was told: "No hay bano. Campo." I was directed to the rocks outside. The stars were amazingly bright. The Milky Way (la careterra) shone brighter than I had ever seen it.
After dinner, there was a service in which we were the stars of the show. We were introduced to the entire congregation (about 20 people). No one spoke a word of English. Mano Fernandes´ gave a sermon that included songs, prayers, and blessings. People would pray out loud, and sing and chant while clapping their hands. There was a lot energy in the room, which was lit by candlelight because there was no electricity.
Much of Mano Fernandes sermon revolved around us. He talked about how God would provide a safe place for us to stay and food for us to eat. He said that when he saw us on our motorbikes he had sensed that we had love in our hearts. At one point he touched each of our foreheads in turn and asked God to keep us safe on our journey and to help us become good doctors.
We had told him earlier about Ted´s crash with the taxi. He made much of this story in his sermon. He said that Ted was there by the grace of God. I am not one to argue that.
In the morning we watched will our breakfast was killed, drained (I even helped with this, holding the animal upside down for a few minutes after it´s throat had been slit), and fried. Our breakfast had been living in the corner of the kitchen under a piece of sheet metal sheet waiting for just such a special occaision. Our breakfast was of course the local delicacy Cuy (Guinea Pig). Our hosts thought it was hilarious when we told them that Cuys were kept as pets back in Canada.
After a tour of the river valley, which included a visit to a pedestrian suspension bridge across the river, we said our good byes and final prayers and set off. Within less than two hours, the highway had climbed from near sea level to a pass 4764 metres high. Andean highways seem to defy gravity. The scenery was stunning.
After a tour of the river valley, which included a visit to a pedestrian suspension bridge across the river, we said our good byes and final prayers and set off. Within less than two hours, the highway had climbed from near sea level to a pass 4764 metres high. Andean highways seem to defy gravity. The scenery was stunning.
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