Maybe it was because the night we arrived, I had a terrible dream involving an ex-boyfriend following me to the Nazca Lines. Maybe it was because I didn´t feel safe in the hostel. Or maybe it was because the place was sad and depressing. Eh, the Tiger Milk (ceviche) was good. Someone told us it was tourist week (yippee!) and made promises of dancing horses in the streets. I saw NO dancing horses . . . but there were lots of old men working on souping up old 1970´s muscle cars . . . maybe that´s what they meant by dancing horses . . . anyway . . .  

In my opinion, Nazca blows and should be skipped entirely.

If you decide to ride a bus from Lima to Cusco, the bus will blast through the desert town of Nazca. Everybody is hot for Nazca because of the famous Nazca Lines. I´ve heard that if you take the airplane ride – for minimum US $50.00 – that the Nazca Lines are awesome. But I didn´t want to spend the dough . . . my fault, I realize . . .

The entire Nazca area is a tourist trap that is 100% set-up to promote the Nazca Lines, which are impressive, but in my opinion, a bad idea for building a successful economy around. And everything in town is carved with reproductions of the Lines . . . the monkey and the spider especially. Everything from the sidewalks in the town square to the endless trinkets like rocks, wallets, postcards, clothing . . . anything, you name it . . . will have that damn stylized monkey line drawing painted or stitched or etched into it.

And that´s it. There is nothing else going on in that town.

We arrived at 5AM just as dawn was breaking over the city. The bus dropped us off in a cloud of dust and sped very quickly away. Some guy approached us with a big smile and spoke great English. He offered us a reasonable hostel room and drove us there, too, whereupon we immediately crashed out. (Night bus rides are intense because you don´t get much rest. The tour guides know this and that´s when they strike – in the early morn about two seconds after you´ve stepped off the bus – when you are tired and at your weakest. More on this later.)

When we woke up, I realized that the glass piece above our hostel door was missing. It would have been easy for anyone to get into our room. It´s not uncommon for theft to happen in hostels. When I asked for another room, the management acted like I was asking for the moon and the stars. Then we refused to go on a tour and the clerk got very visibly upset with us. Not a good combo.

I carried my valubles with me all day long.

I had a naive idea that we could maybe hike out to the desert and walk the length of one of the formations . . . like maybe the spider. I thought that would be pretty cool. But we found out, luckily before we executed my plan, that a hike out to the lines will automatically land you in a Peruvian jail for a few years. I was dissappointed, but I understand the need for conservation. So, we decided to go to the ´viewing platform´ where supposedly, you can climb up 60´ above the desert floor and see a couple of the line formations. It was a JOKE.

The viewing platform is in the middle of a no-man´s land that resembles a moonscape. It´s desolate and fairly ugly, the PanAmerican Highway is three feet away with busses and oil tankers blasting past every few seconds. You climb to the top of this viewing platform . . . and . . . and . . . you see a stylized hand glyph and a tree glyph (I think). Both of these glyphs are so much less than impressive, not to mention about five feet square in size.

So, expect good ceviche (served with lot´s of attitude), old men fixing up rusting muscle cars (that was cool – they were putting Nissan engines into old Chevy´s), but don´t expect to see many awesome glyphs, unless you take a flight.

And of course, don´t go to Nazca expecting to see dancing horses.

Up until about a year ago, although close to Machu Picchu, the town of Santa Teresa had no viable access to the most famous ruins the country of Peru has to offer. The only point to cross the raging, rock-filled and wild Urubamba River was a rickety wire basket and steel line contraption that few would dare to try.

About a year ago, the bridge was completed and as a result, Santa Teresa has become a modern-day backpacker boomtown. It’s certain to change quickly within the next few years as tourism brings in a fresh infusion of capital and cosmopolitan influences, so experience this still-rugged adventurer outpost now. The crowd is fairly young – I saw a few spirited (non-local) folks who were probably 50+, but most are the 20’s-30’s range. The music thumps at all hours of the day and night, so bring earplugs if you’re sensitive.

The main street in town is the only one that’s finished. Both the streets in the village and roads leading into town are still bumpy rock and dirt. The town is compact, most buildings are one-story, and all the roofs in town are corrugated metal weighted down with big chunks of river rock. There are bars aplenty to offer cheap drinks and all-day happy hour. The juice bars are cheap and the produce fresh. The hostels are reasonably backpacker budget priced and comfortable. The people in the town are laid back – something not always easy to find in Peru.

The town plaza is brand new. The statues in the plaza are supposed depict Andean people in traditional dress, but I swear the facial features on those bronze statues looked white to me. The town has a real dichotomy in that one can find artsy BBQ joints, vegan eco-camps and the outdoor village butcher block (where if you are lucky, you might see a bloody cow head swinging in the open breeze) all on the same street.

And of course, there are the hot springs. Going only for the hot springs would be perfectly reasonable. Add the fact that Machu Picchu is only two mountains and an 8-kilometer walk on the train tracks away and you’ve got a town that is a true backpacker destination.

The routes in and around Cusco have been well-worn with tourism within the past few decades, taming some of the wildness of the area, but Santa Teresa is still a rough little gem. If you don’t care to take the European-owned (and stupidly expensive) Orient Express Train, the Inca Trail or another long hike in, this is the spot you’re looking for. The main town around Machu Picchu, Aguas Calientes, where the stupidly expensive train runs is much more touristy and busy. And the hot springs are nowhere near as nice as those in Santa Teresa.

Keep in mind that it would be difficult to wake up in Santa Teresa, hike on the tracks to Machu Picchu, hike up the mountain and fully enjoy the ruins and hike back all in one day. Aguas Calientes is my least favorite town in Peru, but the day you go to Machu Picchu, you might as well plan on spending the night there. The kind hostel owners in Santa Teresa will gladly hold your packs the day you’re gone if you want to check out of your room and save a few soles.

In an earlier post, I ranted about the dreaded Traveler´s Diarrhea, or TD.

In that post, I specifically mention that if the TD lasts more than three days, then you should seek medical help, because it´s NOT going to go away on it´s own. I had to use my own advice this past week.

And a quick word of warning should you become extremely gastronomically distressed while out there in the big, wide world – remember that it is KEY that you seek medical treatment in the country in which you were sickened. Never go home feeling ill in the belly and expect the Western Medical Establishment to be able to help you.

The  country in which you acquired the disease is accustomed to dealing with it on a daily basis. Most of the time, you can march down to the corner drugstore, tell the clerk your symptoms and they will prescribe the effective treatment for you on-the-spot.

Once, I made the mistake of drinking some bad water right before I got onto a plane bound from the jungle to LAX. When I got sick, I thought, ¨Great. I´m headed to my home city, where there are the best doctors in the world!¨

Wrong. The Western Medical Establishment is great for some things -  like if you´ve been in a car wreck or need to have your internal organs put back together. But hear me . . . most know nothing about effective treatment of parasites. Actually, with global travel becoming more commonplace, the instances of traveler´s coming home with nasty parasites is ever-increasing.

My well-heeled US doctors put me through a continual battery of tests that came out negative, but I knew something was wrong. They told me I was crazy.  If you feel you have an intestinal parasite, it´s imperative that you become your own strongest advocate (even though you may not have alot of energy to do so). After six months of problematic doctor visits, I finally had a friend bring some meds back from abroad and that finally fixed it. My doctors, all the way from my general practitioner to gastroenterologist at Cedars-Sinai, were all well-meaning, but clueless.

This time, the problem got fixed with some meds from the drugstore. All for less than $10.00 US. My US medical file is about 2¨ thick from the time when I was sick before. I wonder how much all of that cost the insurance company. I certainly know it cost me a great deal in time, anxiety and sickness – let alone dollars. And they still weren´t able to fix it, diagnose it or listen to me, the patient. It was as though they were offended that I might be trying to diagnose myself.

Trust me, fix it in the country where you got sick.

Ah have arrived, my shugahs. 

And aside from the taxi cab ride to my hotel and the ritual of hanging of christmas lights in my hotel suite . . . I have done not a damn thing except acquire frizzy hair and view some magnolia blossoms. All these things make me very happy.

Frank was EXceptionally good on the two plane rides, shuttle van ride, taxi cab ride and short subway jaunt it took to get here . . . nary a meow.

He’s not even holed himself up underneath the hotel bed yet . . . a new one for him . . . I think he’s getting the hang of this whole travel thing . . . but you can see for yourself . . . he’s become a blogger too . . . I was a bit afraid that the TSA might try to confiscate his catnip lined scratch pad as some kind of contraband, but that didn’t happen. There would have been some clawz flyin’!