One of the girls who joined me on my sandboarding adventure was also headed to Nazca this morning. So we opted that we might as well go together. Having spent most of the previous evening chatting about life, during our bus ride we shared a comfortable silence instead.
Within minutes of arrival we found ourselves a fairly reputable company with which to take our flight. And off we went to the airport, which consisted of about 12 Cessna airplanes. Thus, tiny. I will admit that I was happy to have some company this time around. It was nice to have someone to joke around with. Like how my companion accidently kept, what I dubbed”, her sandwich knife and how ridiculous it would be to make sandwiches during the flight.
As with most inside jokes, you probably had to be there or experience the day itself to really understand. I could characterize our entire day as being a huge waiting game. And having slightly less sleep than desired, this lead to fits of giggles. Especially when our travel agent started telling us how beautiful we were and holding our hands. Just the sort of awkward behaviour you don’t want to encourage.
The flight itself was a mildly nauseating 30 minutes, where the co-pilot is telling you what shapes to look for below. The monkey, the whale, the dog, the condor, the hummingbird, the astronaut, and more. These lines were clearly visible from our height, but I’m not sure my camera was up to the task of taking these photos. Nevertheless the sights from the air were incredible. The dry arid desert below us and the burgandy hills rising from the earth.
Also fascinating was seeing how the Nazca lines had been taken over by some forces of mother nature. While the desert may be arid, you could see what appeared to be creeks and streams roaming through the plain. Sometimes right through some of the Nazca’s geometric lines and triangles.
One interesting discovery of the day was Dr. TV. Peru’s answer to Dr. Oz. If you don’t know who Dr. Oz is, clearly you have not be indoctrinated by daytime tv or have a television. But the kitchen staff and us two travelers were disgusted to see what fat looked like that had attached itself to your liver. And found out what kind of awesome fruits we should be eating. When commercial breaks were on, we were able to read the graffiti left by previous patrons left on the white washed walls.
Considering that our continuing travels were not until later that evening, we opted to try to visit the Chachilla Cemetery. Which I will say was probably cooler than the Nazca lines. Mostly because it felt so close you could touch it. And for the most part, it was really facsinating to see these desert mummies with rastafarian hairstyles. Apparently the length of your hair back in their day indicated status. And these people had some seriously long hair (and unlike some other mummies, apparently their hair didn’t grow past death).
To me the most interesting part was hearing about how grave robbers used to come drunk so as to protect themselves from any enchantments on the tombs. Then they would locate the tombs and throw the bodies out. Thus the bodies on display have been replaced. But they have uncovered some left in their original state. The mummies are found with all their organs in a ceramic jar, sitting in a fetal position. Their ligaments are part of the organs removed and this allows them to sit in the fetal position for millennia.
The hardest to see where the infant and children mummies. The adults somehow look like they had a full life, as demonstrated by the colourful fabric and long hair. I suppose no matter how you slice it though, even ancient deaths, it is always harder to see a child dead.
But perhaps my favourite parts about the entire trip were the silly side conversations. About how we would freak out if one of the mummies on display moved. Or how the man at the ticket agent miscounted my money and instead of being awkward it was somehow intensely funny. Especially when I just moved the coins around once again to “demonstrate” that I had given the correct sum.
The other weird part of our tour was that we went to two other museums. One to demonstrate the ancient technique of pottery building out of local clay. This one was mildly interesting because the man showing us how was indescribably wonderful and translated his speech into English, German, Spanish, and Japanese. All of this from his wheelchair. My particular favourites from his museum was when he showed us how to shine the pottery using a black obsidian stone and human oil...from his own nose. The other was getting an up close look at some of the pottery. Including a woman during childbirth.
The last museum was a complete joke. It was in some man’s housing complex with a giant wall. He told us about the mining operations around Nazca and told us how they produced gold from this area. He totally ignored a question from our group, and he also at the end tried to sell us some of his jewelery. The highlight for me was the Japanese woman taking photos of the dogs playing behind us and when our “guide” was explaining how they melted the gold at 1,200 degrees Celsius but proceeded to make steam and explosion noises like any five-year old boy.
In the end, I was rather grateful when we ended up hanging out for the rest of the evening. Eating dinner, resting by a very nice hotels pool, and eventually watching some break dancers in the parque. They brought along their boombox and attitude. With hipster toque’s to match. We watched them challenge each other and fall on their backsides. We watched as a three-year old girl danced along to the music as well. Somehow the entire thing just seemed to ridiculously strange, and thus somehow perfect.
Just after my new friend left to take her bus to Arequipa, I stayed behind just in time to see a group of 10 Peruvian teens head to the parque with two guitars, two drums, and lyrics. They sat and serenaded the parks visitors while I slinked away to wait at the bus station. I didn’t need to hear “La Bamba” again.
At the station I was reunited with my guitar and backpack, which I left there for safe keeping. I had a wonderful conversation with the manager, who looked after my guitar all afternoon. He asked me about my trip, where I was headed, where I had been, what I did back home, what sports I liked, and more. Listening to him talk about basketball though made me miss home, thanks sister. So as we talked about Scottie Pippen and Michael Jordan, I was reminded again just how incredibly strange and wonderful life can be.
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