My planning went as far as getting to Machu Picchu and nothing after that. I decided at the hostel in Cusco that I would follow some advice from some random hikers and go for a loop of Southern Peru. It seemed pretty safe as, as far as I was aware, there were no major border wars happening and I wanted to visit some of the sites I had heard about in the Spanish class including the Nazca lines and Lake Titicaca.
I hopped a bus from Cusco to Puno, where I got off and jumped on a quick tour to see Lake Titicaca and the floating islands of Uros. When the bus arrived in Puno, I didn’t see too much open in the town so I got off at the bus stop and walked around nearby before heading back and deciding to hop on a tour offered from the bus stop. I don’t normally do that but I discovered there was an overnight bus to Arequipa, my next stop, that night, and wanted to be able to hop on that as well instead of staying in the town.
I like to save money when I can and one major way of doing it is taking overnight buses on long trips so you don’t have to also pay for hotels or hostels. So here I hop on a full day tour to the Uros islands and get picked up in this bench seated vehicle that has two bench seats and begins to drive along the lakeside, where I saw nothing but tan houses and tan dirt roads.
After that we headed to a dock and loaded onto a boat that floated us along to the major island of Uros, where small grass huts sat on floating islands of weaved platforms made from long grass plants grown in the lake. The people who lived there wove these beautiful tapestries that had the islands’ history on it. They also showed us a dance and the work they did, as well as their homes on the island. The grass homes were small and cozy but just enough for the families that lived there.
We were then boated out to a real dirt island that was quite large with a small village on it. The people there lived in stone houses and fished or farmed their food. We were able to wander around a bit and I waved and danced around with a few children, girls dressed in long dresses. I believe the island I went to was Taquille but I was not even aware that I was heading to another island on the tour so it was a nice surprise.
The day was a good one but I worry the floating islands have turned more into a tourist ploy than being able to learn the culture that had been truly there. Though I enjoy visiting those places that are like that, I wish we were able to actually go and participate and learn the richness of other cultures for what they have to offer and their ancestry, rather than becoming a fake representation.
Though most loops included Arequipa, after I arrived I wasn’t too sure what to actually do. Walking through the smoky bus station, I breathed in freshly cooked chicken and exhaust fumes as engines fired up and left. It was there I saw a picture of this massive looking canyon.
After a little research I learned it was called Colca Canyon and was a bus ride away from there. Trying to save some money, I hopped on a local bus where people were holding chickens and we were all sweating a ton from the heat seeping into the open windows. We traveled for hours, as I bumped along an endless road and stared at the rocky desert around me.
Then it happened, with a few squeaks and a slow rolling stop, we realized the bus had broken down. After a half an hour it dawned on me that it wasn’t being fixed anytime soon and we all decided to get out soon after to try to escape the stifling heat of all these bodies being compressed together. We waited for hours on the road when to our luck the next bus came running through. It was tough to pack us all into one bus that was already bursting at the seams, but with everyone’s kindness, we managed it. I sat on the floor of the aisle with my backpack in my lap and hugged tightly to me, trying to take as little space as possible. The air was dusty from the dirt road throwing up dust clouds as the tires spun along.
After the harrowing journey I found myself at the Colca canyon, I found the only hostel available and then decided to wander around. I explored the very quiet town, only seeing a few older people sitting on steps of the two stores there and made my way to the edges of town where I was told I would see the canyon from a viewpoint.
After a bit of walking and taking random turns I found a small shelter that was open on all sides with a roof, similar to a gazebo. There I was able to take in the canyon for the first time since arriving.
The edge of the shelter gave way to this massive gap in the earth, it’s always mystifying wondering how something like that even managed to get there. Was it all at once or over millions of years? I wonder if the folklore of the regions had stories that described the earth continuing to deepen and widen after years and years of wear down and change, or if the canyon had always been like that for human history.
The very tips of the opposite ridge were littered with specks of bright, white snow that shined in the late morning sun. The dark brown of the worn mountain side showed through the snow and I wondered if it was so high that it always carried snow, even with the heat of the rising sun. Cutting through the jagged ridges that formed the canyon side into the mountains beyond, were these snakeside trails, a lighter brown than the surrounding mountainside, that traveled along at a diagonal from the ride to the bottom. I wondered what people lived beyond, people who went up and down the canyon as a normal part of their lives.
As my eyes followed down, I could see thick vegetation the lower to the canyon floor I got. The shrubs and trees stood out against the shades of brown I had previously been staring at. Then a thin river snaked along the floor, allowing the life that thrived there to continue as it lazily cut through the canyon. I wondered if it once was a raging river full of whitewater and rough rapids. But now, it seemed slow, maybe though, that was because I was so far away.
The majestic view kept me spell bound for at least an hour between taking pictures and being thankful I took the crazy trip to the canyon. As I made my way back to the hostel, I came across an abandoned bull fighting ring. It had years of erosion in it, with walls breaking down, but the inside tall wall was still painted a bright red from the years in use. It was strange such a small oval had been used so long as people dodge charging bulls. I can imagine hearing the screams and cheering as a young man engaged in a dangerous tango with a young bull.
One of my major regrets was my lack of time to climb into the canyon, maybe one day I’ll be back.
After Arequipa and the canyon, I had a few days until my flight out of Lima was to happen. I had one more major sight I wanted to be able to see and that was the Nazca lines. Whether I believed the many conspiracies and stories or not, I still figured they would be cool to go see. Personally, even if the lines were carved and maintained by recent humans, I thought they would still be cool to go see.
I arrived in Nasca and immediately went to some of the offices to see if I could get a tour. Unfortunately, after trying five places I learned they will not give a plane or four wheeler ride to a single passenger, there had to be at least two. I waited an hour and asked one more time but got this in reply, “I’m sorry miss but we need two to go, you’ll have to wait and hope someone comes or just skip it this time.”
Luckily, as I walked out, another local came out and told me of this tower nearby. He said if I hop a local bus I can hop off and pay a couple soles to be allowed to climb it and I would be able to see some of the Nazca lines from that viewpoint.
So sure enough, I hopped a bus passing by with the wave of my hands and then stayed at the front until I saw a tower on the side of the road. Quickly tapping the bus driver, he slowed enough for me to make a moving jump and not fall on my butt. From there I met this nice older man who collected the soles and gave me some history before waving me up.
I reached the top of the tower and surprisingly was actually able to see the lines. The deep trenches were dug in perfect alignment to form large shapes and figures. It was shocking to see the condition of the lines that were clear even as I was only in a tower. The white sand from under the darker top layer stood starkly against the landscape that largely had nothing to look at or see.
I had done a small presentation about the lines in a college Spanish class and for the millionth time I found myself tearing up as I took pictures feeling like a different person than the one who started the trip. This new girl who had courage and love, who allowed herself the freedom to do crazy things. I found a lot of peace on top of that tower and knew I would continue doing this as long as I could.
From the tower, I ended up hopping a bus on towards Ica because I was already out of Nazca pretty far.
When I was visiting the floating islands of Uros, a couple had told me about this cute little desert oasis located near the coast of Peru that was on the way back to Lima. They told me it was a cool area to see and relax in and had some activities like dune buggies and sandboarding. They suggested that if I had time that was a good place to go. I just had to take a bus to Ica and then from there catch a ride to Huacachina.
Since I ended up leaving Nazca earlier than I expected, I decided it would be fun to spend my last couple days in the oasis. I didn’t know a lot about it but it sounded like a small place and I didn’t feel like going into the big city of Lima, as cities still scared me quite a bit at this point in traveling.
So I hopped off the bus in Ica, which was a massively crowded city area. I felt overwhelmed out there and didn’t see a single other tourist or traveler. I was definitely overwhelmed and was trying to figure out where to go. I overheard someone saying that Huacachina was a three hour drive into the desert and taxi was the most common way to go.
Common sense told me that was in no way a safe decision, to get a taxi with a random man as there were no women around that I could see, and drive three hours into the middle of nowhere. I felt utterly overwhelmed and with no map or idea of where a tourist part of the city with hostels and hotels may be, I checked into the hotel next to the bus station.
Once I was checked in there, I was given the WiFi password but it didn’t work in my room. So I went downstairs to the lobby area and sat with my notebook and phone hidden in my lap. There I looked up Huacachina to find it was only a fifteen minute drive out of the city. Considering I already paid for my room, I figured I would just take an early taxi there the next day and went back to my room.
There are points in all of my travels where I’ve gotten very overwhelmed. It is usually towards the end of the trip when I’ve really used up all of the courage and bravery to be doing it on my own that it hits me. That’s completely okay and it has taken me many trips to finally relax more and be brave and calm in these situations. It has taken a lot to teach myself how to be extroverted to go out into cities and meet people, get food, and walk around freely.
That night was too much so I had crackers and oreos I had in my bag for dinner and relaxed in my private locked room. The sheets looked a little questionable so I ended up using an extra blanket and slept on top of the duvet. I felt relieved to be in a real bed and sleeping off the exhaustion from so much traveling but I really did feel ready to go home in a few days.
Everything seemed fine until 1:00am came around. I was awoken to sudden banging on my hotel room door and hard jiggling of the handle. I heard at least two drunken men yelling at me and trying to get into the room. I was very careful when I checked in that no one knew where I was going and hid my hotel room key so no one could see the number, but it didn’t seem to matter.
My heart was beating as the adrenaline spiked and all I could think of was the major danger I was potentially in. I pushed the dresser over in front of the door and stacked a table and two other chairs in the room in front of it. I made sure each of the locks were in place and that the stuff was as heavy as possible. I left my bags on the bed and grabbed a pillow and blanket before climbing into the bathtub in the bathroom and locking that door with a chair under the handle as well.
I couldn’t stop silently crying, the tears wouldn’t stop coming as I held my hand over my mouth to keep quiet. I was hoping that if they couldn’t hear me, maybe they would think they had the wrong room and go away. I don’t think I’ve ever been as scared as I was that night. I was breaking into a cold sweat and just listening intently to all the noise. I only kept my phone and IDs with a tiny bit of cash in the bathroom with me.
My hope was that if they got in, they would just take my stuff and cash and give up trying to get through another door to me. I listened to the fists smashing against the door for one whole hour. The minutes ticked forever as my brain stayed alert but my exhausted body slowly came down from adrenaline. Each time my eyelids began to droop, I would hear a yell or a pounding of a fist and would be wide awake with a start. I shivered from the cold sweat soaking my clothing against the cold plastic of the tub.
They tried for about an hour or a little over, I wasn’t really keeping track of it. They banged and tried the handle the whole time until finally I could hear their drunken steps slap against the floor as they walked away. I stayed in my spot afraid to move and woke up every ten minutes that night to make sure I didn’t hear anything else.
I feel it is very important to include the bad times along with the good of the trips I’ve been on. This was by far the scariest thing I’ve gone through in my years of traveling so it’s not common but it is a reality. Traveling can be dangerous, exponentially so for women. But I don’t say or write this to discourage other women, traveling also fills you up in ways you can’t imagine and strengthens you in ways you didn’t even know you needed. It is important as a woman, it isn’t fair, but you;ve got to be aware and hypervigilant to your surroundings and trust your gut. Nothing is worth pushing through your instinct telling you to run away. I’ve skipped many attractions by hopping another bus after getting an unsafe vibe. Make sure you listen to that always.
The next morning I gathered my things so I was completely ready before moving the furniture back. I stayed waiting for five minutes, staring out the peephole in the door, watching the other hotel room doors and stairs for any movement. I had gotten up at 6:00am, in hopes the two drunk assholes were passed out by then wherever they had wandered to. Finally I quietly opened my door and sprinted to the elevator while holding my knife tight in my hand and pressing my back against a wall.
I made it to the front desk where I threw down my room key and got the hell out of that hotel. I went straight to the bus stop and got a taxi. I walked down the line of taxis for a minute before choosing a significantly older, overweight man. I felt safer with his age as I figured I could jump from the taxi and run and he wouldn’t be able to catch me. I also liked his super old car that didn’t have locks on the inside and a window that was broken open so there was less of a chance of being trapped.
I also memorized each turn on the way to Huacachina and counted them as we went to ensure we were on the right path. Sure enough, about seventeen minutes later we arrived in Huacachina, the desert oasis.
The oasis was this small pond in the center of these towering dunes, higher than I had ever seen. The pond was dark green and something I would never swim in but had a certain beauty with the surrounding trees and plants that faded to nothing but sand on the horizon. This was indeed a very small town created around here, based on tourists. There were little stands all around the oasis and surrounding it were hotels and hostels.
I walked to the only hostel and was lucky enough to snag the last bed they had for two nights. After unpacking and changing into some warmer weather clothing I wandered up a sand dune. I sat in the sun for hours, contemplating the night before and my entire trip.
I was tired and worn down but thankful for the protection I had and the life I lived so far. The people who were angels in this journey and the people who taught me so much about myself.
The next day I attempted to climb the highest sand dune in the area for sunrise. I had no idea it would be basically the hardest thing I had done, hiking wise, as your feet just sink right in and you fall back down two steps for every one you take. I didn’t make it for sunrise but I at least made it up to the top and was mind blown. The golden sands go on for as far as my eye could see. I had never seen a true desert and pictures did not do justice. The dunes of windswept soft sand were warped and balanced precariously across the landscape. The heat waves became more visible as waves of clear air hazed near the sand and floated up to be cooled again.
One other major thing that I saw on the other side of this massive dune was a community of Peruvians. The oasis had plenty of luxury and I had seen men and women coming down this dune earlier in the morning into the oasis to work, but hadn’t known where they were coming from. The community I could see was made out of metal sheets and old chain-linked fences. It seemed unstable, as if it could fall at any minute and I could see children in various states of undress running around kicking what looked to be an extremely worn ball.
Dogs were barking and people were walking and sitting among these sheet walls. The houses seemed like they could only fit one person but I would see four or five or more coming out of them. It was an insane difference to be separated by some sand, one side had tourists milling about on paved streets with an extravagant hotel on one end, and the other had metal sheet houses and no roads.
I was aware of the places I visited and I had seen poverty, but something about this moment and to see a stark difference just by a sand dune, really struck something in me. I wish that I had more money when I traveled to spend in the communities I have visited. I’ve always tried to eat at local places and I’ve always tipped, even if that isn’t part of the culture. I don’t have a lot of money, and I’m lucky to travel as it is but I wish I could hire a female guide in Nepal as that helps her, other women, and her family. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been the case yet.
This is a delicate topic about backpacking for cheap and I do believe that people should be able to as traveling shouldn’t just be a rich person thing. It is how people like me, who grew up in a small town, learn about cultures and acceptance and different lives to teach others. But I do believe there are ways to travel responsibly and cheaply if you just don’t have the money.
I’ve always tried to share snacks with children who sit near me or talk to me. I go to only local restaurants and make sure to tip, though they always try to give it back. Even simple things like not bartering over fifty cents. In many places the expectation is to barter so they start higher than they want to sell it for but I often stop a little earlier than the recommended price as I can afford losing a few cents.
There is so much more I have to learn but those were a few realizations from my first trip. Most of my time was spent sliding down dunes and hiking around them as dune buggies usage was paused at the moment. I believe there was an injury right before I got there so they shut them down for a short time so really I soaked up the sun and enjoyed my last few days of my first true adventure.