Huancavelica and Pisco

We were heading towards Pisco and broke up the journey in the quaint mountain town of Huancavelica. We chose an "auto" rather than a bus because we´d heard that the cars (an "auto" is basically a long distance taxi) take a more scenic route through the mountains. And it did - we spent three hours glued to the windows and gazing at the patchwork farmland which covered the extensive valleys spectacularly. Huancavelica is not a particularly noteworthy town and therefore attracted few tourists - indeed the charm of the town lay in the lack of tourists.

We stayed there one night and I found myself a local attraction on more than one occasion. During one amusing incident the entire giggling contents of the local girls school emptied out onto the street in front of us. I must confess that I am completely used to this by now and in fact quite enjoy my role as the local freak. I amuse myself by saying hello and conversating with as many embarrassed and giggling people as possible, I even did a few kick ups with a group of local boys who were stunned to see that my remarkable frame was capable of any form of athleticism.

Leaving my fans behind, we climbed aboard an overnight bus to Pisco. This was a rough eight hour journey, the whole bus shook with a deafening rattle and a constant exchange of passengers meant that the lights flicked on and off along with loud music. At 3am someone said something about Pisco and after asleepy and confused exchange with the driver we grabbed our things and jumped off the bus. Everything, that is, but my phrasebook which I discovered had fallen out of my pocket while I had slept. To say I was devastated was an understatement. I felt like I had left my tongue behind.

We checked into a hostel in a run down street and caught up on some sleep. Walking out the next morning I realised it was not simply a bad choice of hostel - the whole of Pisco was in a terrible state. It looked like some sort of apocalyptic nightmare - every building was in a state of disrepair, mangy looking dogs wandered between piles of rubble and bricks in the street. I was amazed that I had not heard anything about this, there was no mention in the guide but I was told that the city had suffered a devastating earthquake two years ago. We wandered around aimlessly (as we tend to do) and booked ourselves on a trip to the nearby Paracas Nature Reserve and Ballestas Islands, which are tiresomely referred to as "the poor mans Galapagos", then we headed back to our hostel and did the only thing there is to do in Pisco - waited to leave.

written by

steve_stamp on June 14, 2009 from Pisco, Peru

from the travel blog: The art of being lost

tagged MountainFreakShow and PiscoApocalypse

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a Pisco sour is surely a must! Did you not go to the Islas Ballestas the?-I loved them. But am worried that having done so well by going so high and acclimatising you went down to sea level again. Stay high for ages and your inca trail will be more enjoyable. then do the lower bits of Peru!

written by sue stamp on June 18, 2009

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