According to the view from my seat, this part of Peru is flat, and by this part I mean the whole West coast as far as the eye can see. It is a flat, dry, cracked, unforgiving landscape that would chew you up and spit you out red raw and dehydrated. I’m happy to be on a bus with a window open. For miles and miles and seemingly endless miles all you can see is sandy desert, with occasional rock formations and a smattering of trees. It is astounding trying to grasp just how big this continent is, and with the Optimus Alive festival tickets booked for July 14th in Portugal, I need to get a shift on to get as far round as I can.
There’s further evidence to support the notion that people in this neck of the woods always give you wrong information. Directions are one example, driving times another. Seven hours was the original quote, but as the road stretches on, it’s actually more like ten. It’s dark by the time we make the Trujilloterminal, find a dodgy looking hostel thanks to another Lonely Planet fail, and feed the famished hunger kept at bay with only a couple of bread sticks on the bus. Contemplating a night out lasts just seconds, before crashing out in a windowless room with a crap fan and terrible pictures. We’ll actually get up and do something tomorrow
The flat of the land
According to the view from my seat, this part of Peru is flat, and by this part I mean the whole West coast as far as the eye can see. It is a flat, dry, cracked, unforgiving landscape that would chew you up and spit you out red raw and dehydrated. I’m happy to be on a bus with a window open. For miles and miles and seemingly endless miles all you can see is sandy desert, with occasional rock formations and a smattering of trees. It is astounding trying to grasp just how big this continent is, and with the Optimus Alive festival tickets booked for July 14th in Portugal, I need to get a shift on to get as far round as I can.
There’s further evidence to support the notion that people in this neck of the woods always give you wrong information. Directions are one example, driving times another. Seven hours was the original quote, but as the road stretches on, it’s actually more like ten. It’s dark by the time we make the Trujilloterminal, find a dodgy looking hostel thanks to another Lonely Planet fail, and feed the famished hunger kept at bay with only a couple of bread sticks on the bus. Contemplating a night out lasts just seconds, before crashing out in a windowless room with a crap fan and terrible pictures. We’ll actually get up and do something tomorrow