Roaming with Peter & Marilyn: Arica to Nasca

Thursday, Nov. 25

One month until Christmas and we will be somewhere in New Zealand then. All I know for sure is that I will not be cooking a turkey. I wonder what we will have for dinner?
Today we have a lazy morning and walk in the opposite direction from town and come upon another beach with kindergarten and school kids at the beach. We don’t realize that this is an outing to celebrate the end of a school year. In S.A. the school year actually begins at the beginning of the year. Well, January or February. This beach is well-protected with rock outcroppings. There is even a lifeguard on duty.
We walk out onto the rocks just beyond the beach and find many sea shells as well as see many little things swimming and walking in the water. I collect a few shells to take home. I never do anything with all these shells, but I am getting a decent sized collection.
After the “home-made” lunch and a time at the pool, we go to collect our washing. The old guy at Roma continues to practice his English on us as he wraps our sparkling-clean, neatly-folded washing in thin brown paper which he affixes with scotch-type tape. It turns out that he was born in 1904! Yes, that makes him 96 years old. I guess hard work is one of the secrets to longevity. I hope a life of traveling and learning does the same.
Dinner is back at Oseano Azul. A different waiter, but the same owner and cook. I have a plate of ceviche which is, I’m happy to say, as good as Jesus’. I leave the potatoes and give Peter my greens as he doesn’t get any and I dive into the next dish - one typical of the region. Without knowing I had had the Reineta fish the other night, he recommends it done in a special sauce. Again, it is delicious. A whole mess of fish, one marinated and one in a rich sauce and that is dinner for me. I opt for the mango sours instead of the pisco. Very smooth, but I like the pisco better.
We have to pack ready for our 14 hours on the bus tomorrow. A gastronomically satisfying, but not exciting evening.

Friday, Nov. 26.
Before we go down for breakfast, Peter notices that there are two navy guys walking along the beach. This is unusual, but he doesn’t mention it to me. When we get downstairs for the breakfast, we notice the place is swarming in navy people, army people in full-flack uniforms, and many “undercover” well-dressed big guys with the earpieces. Outside the driveway is filled with way too expensive cars! Everyone is in a bit of a flutter, except Petrito, the bell hop, who tells us when we inquire that the president is coming for breakfast! By the time we leave, the dignitaries are having breakfast in a private room which is obscured by a nylon curtain. I thought Petrito said it was the president of Chile, but the taxi driver who took us to the bus depot said it was the president of Peru. As you can tell, we neither get a picture nor an autograph because we would know which is if we had. The president of Chile is a man and the president of Peru is a woman!
We arrive at the bus depot, but Peter has not explained the drill to me which he has learned from the desk clerk the first day in Arica. I get a little nervous when Peter is steering us to a dilapidated taxi with three other people and the taxi driver is taking our passports! Maybe a little preparation would have been helpful. This is actually how you get most efficiently from Arica, Chile, to Tecna, Peru, where you get the bus that takes you north. I have to admit, this was as nervous as I have been in South America. The movement through the border is the best yet and, I think, the fact we are with a regular colectivo taxi driver smoothed the situation. The customs did confiscate my apples, but they do that to me all the time in California!
Unfortunately, there are no full-cama (full-recline to bed position) seats available (there are only 12 on a bus) so we have semi-cama (the leg rest does not come all the way up) from here to Nazca. An Australian fellow who has just come to check in as required four hours before his reservation was lucky enough to get the last full-cama seat to Lima. He is going farther and he did have the knowledge to get his desk clerk to phone three days earlier to get the reservation. We do get the upper-front seats which mean nobody is reclining into your space.
We can leave our suitcases at the counter, so we take a taxi and look around town. There is a huge celebration in the town square. It has something to do with the police cadets and the local schools. We are fascinated by the prescion and the numbers of both schools and kids involved. There are probably over a thousand - from grade 3 to grade 12. Of course, everyone is in their varying school uniforms and the girls either have their hair in a bun with a net, like the real police women, or is one full-French braid that starts at the top of their head. The marching song which the band is playing becomes pretty repetitive after an hour, but the whole thing is spectacular. We learn later that this is done every year to celebrate the end of the school year. The kids now start their three-month summer holiday!
There is a small museum jus across from the main square. We spend a little while going through. It was the house of Jorge Basadre, a famous Chilean historian. We later see the young woman who is working (or volunteering) there on the bus to Nazca. She is off to visit friends in Ica, about half-way between Nazca & Lima.
Finally, it is time to get the bus, but there is security before getting on. They give our carry-ons a look through, we are monitored with a radar wand, and they take our picture. Before the bus leaves, a fellow gets on and videos each person in their seat. Seemingly, hijacking is not unheard of on this stretch oh highway! I’m glad I had never heard of it. The bus is monitored on GPS, so I assume the authorities have things under control.
We get less than an hour north of Tecna, when we have another customs check. I guess a lot of stuff, especially electronics, is smuggled into Peru through Chile from Bolivia. (I didn’t know they had much in Bolivia.) This process of taking everything off the bus and searching takes over an hour. Luckily, other than one short stop while the police check I.D.s of the passengers, it is clear sailing.
The ride begins very well with long straight stretches through the desert. I am a fairly good rider, but, by the time the dinner is served between 7:30 and 8 p.m., I simply can not eat. Because I am so hungry, I eat the rice, but that is as much as I can chance. We swing from side to side as the bus negotiates curve after curve around the mountains. Yet, everything is still rock and sand. I am quite happy when it get dark early - we have moved two hours forward from Arica - except the driver does not put on his lights. I am sure he has “running” lights, but nothing that can be seen to light the road. This seems to be the custom as we have huge trucks barrelling towards us with virtually no lights on. Finally, it gets pitch-dark, the lights come on, and I really don’t want to see what is ahead - well, actually - what is at the side. Nothing but air. We zig and we zag and we pass on the double yellow solid line. This is a two-lane mountain highway with no passing lanes and hoards of trucks as it is the main north/south highway this side of the Andes. Like the American I-5 only two lanes around the sides of mountains. Best to sleep. I do so fitfully until I awaken at 3:30 a.m., about an hour from Nazca. It turns out to be 1 ½ hours, but we arrive as the sun comes up. The lady from our hotel has been here since 4 waiting for the bus. The Oasis Hotel turns out to be as nice as the reviews claim. We fall into bed just around six for two hours of shut-eye before having breakfast at 9.
It is now - (next blog) -