Buses. Police. Not enough sleep.

So, it turns out that altitude sickness is not a load of bollocks. Who would have thought? Am going to attempt to cure it with the well-known remedy of cheap red wine and ´cola real´, instead of the coca tea recommended by the guide book and everyone you ask.

We´ve finally made it up to Cusco in Peru, in preparation for killing our unfit selves on the Inca Trail in a few days. We´re ´acclimatising´ but having only arrived here at 5.15am this morning, we´re really just sleeping and lolling about and trying not to huff and puff when we go out for walks. Stupid high alititude.

We left Rapa Nui last Tuesday and since then have spent three nights on buses and one and a half nights in beds. We are tired and possibly a little scratchy. But it´s all super! No, really! I love trying to sleep on buses. Such an adventure.
We made our way up the coast of Chile, stopping in a small town after one 14-hour bus ride, because it was supposed to have a superb national park. I´m sure it does, only it was closed. Basically all desert, beach and gorgeous white sand. Sadly, small town had little else to offer and lunatic local wouldn´t leave us alone - insisted on kissing my hand with dribbly lips. Ben and Kruse laughed. Hate Ben and Kruse.
At lunch see locals drinking beer and fanta. Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery, we give it a go. Might be an acquired taste but I rather like it. Suspect, however, that once I get to UK, might not. You know how things taste better in the country you try them in and just taste horrible when you try them back at home. Had this with ouzo in Greece.
In a botanical side note, however, saw some rather interesting plants that looked just like piles of horse poo. In fact, I thought they were, until regularity of piles suggested unbelievably huge roaming herd or perhaps plants instead. Ben suggested bags of onions, which they also looked a great deal like.

So, another bus up to the border, another 14 hours of fun. Get to Arrica and immediately get taxi across border and customs to Peru. This is supposed to take an hour. My unreliable and generally disliked bladder thought it could handle this. Might have been able to, if wasn´t for extremely long queue to get out of Chile. And although there were toilets, you had to pay (normal practise) and we´d given the last of our Chilean money to the taxi man who allowed us to be two hundred pesos short anyway. So I ignored my bladder (so difficult, it´s an attention seeker), waited in line for 45 minutes, had my thumb prints taken and then we got to do it all again at the Peruvian border. But, what a delightful surprise! Took about three minutes and they had FREE toilets. Love Peru.

Got to Tacna, pounced on by very enthusiastic touts who can get us anything we want. Buses, lunch, drugs . . . kind woman at a nearby table told us not trust them. I liked the cut of her very blue eyeliner and decided to listen to her. So we trot off by ourselves and get a bus to Arequipa. Five hours. No toilet. Curses. Spend the half hour before bus goes visiting toilets at bus station in an effort to be as empty as possible.
Bus is full. And not just of people. Tacna is a border town with duty free. Consequently, people have bought up large and bus is full of stuff. When we finally drive off, there are still bags left on the ground. The moment we get going, old lady next to be pushes a pink puffy jacket on to me. Am confused - is she giving it to me? Man behind me explains that we´re going to go through police checks and like most of the people on the bus, old lady is over quota (on pink puffy jackets?) so she wants me to take it through for her. Due to reading too many guide books I am wary of carrying anything for anyone in case item is full of drugs. Surreptitiously feel jacket - feels okay but I don´t like it. She also pushes a handbag on to Kruse. Am now curious to know what the quota is on handbags.
Get to first police check. I don´t like police checks, but our packs are ignored. Instead, for about 30 minutes, all the carefully packed boxes and huge bags are taken out and unpacked and pored over by the police. I take this opportunity to use the police loos.
Five hours and another two police checks later we are in Arequipa. I like this town. It´s warm, with a stunning plaza and there are beds, not a bus seat. Eat guinea pig and alpaca. Yum. I do like Peru.

Bored yet? Tough.

Take a three hour bus trip (no toilet, again) to Chivay where there is a huge canyon. Get a hostel and prepare for horrible task of getting up at 3.30am in order to catch bus (90 minutes, no toilet) to get to canyon. However, early hour is all worth it as watch sun come up on fecking HUGE canyon. Watch hummingbirds. Want pet hummingbird. Admire depth of canyon. Get cold. See native wildlife - small furry creature that looks like a cross between Peter Rabbit and Squirrel Nutkin. Want a pet one. Wonder where the hell the condors that canyon is reknowned for are. They finally turn up - and are pretty fancy. Want a pet condor. Except would probably eat pet hummingbird and pet furry native creature. By this time, heaps of tourists have turned up and are oohing and aahing over condors. They really are large. And complete show ponies, showing off for the cameras. Think they are just curious about strange mass of people. Suspect that if we all hid and just left a small child out in open, chance to get excellent closeup of condor would happen. Doubt anyone is going to let me try this out with their child. Nobody trusts a gringo.

Take bus back to Arequipa and get bus to Cusco. Horrible ten minutes when realise that it´s 8.30pm and we can´t find our bus and our luggage is on it. Aha! We are at wrong platform and realise this just in time and run, run like three tired, lazy white folk. Have ten-hour trip and fail to sleep. Am ever so pleased to see Cusco.

In an utterly fascinating side note: keep seeing people who resemble other people. Ben was furious to see a Spanish Christopher Lloyd. I´ve seen the Korean version of an ex-boyfriend (although, this was on a DVD) and there have been others but I´m too altitude-sickened to remember any of them.