Hayley in Wanderlust: Lima & Mancora

 

 

Lima is a 22 hour bus journey from Cuzco, which sounds hideous, I know. But what if I told you it was actually one of the most comfortable 22 hours I'd had on this trip so far? I'd be lying, right?
Wrong.

 Cruz Del Sur are now and forever my favourite transportation company. A bus company that operate through Peru and parts of Ecuador and Columbia, it's first class travel for a fraction of the price. I got asked which meal option I would like, meat, chicken or vegetarian? They couldn't even get the right on my flight from London to Rio! I also had my own personal TV screen, seat that folded all the way back and effectively turned into a bed, blanket and pillow. It was bliss, and it cost me just over £40.
(It was also on this bus journey that I realised I could watch entire films in Spanish without subtitles in English and understand everything... but, that's just me bragging now).

As cities go, I really liked Lima. It's not somewhere I had heard much about in the way that I had, say, Buenos Aires or La Paz, but it certainly exceeded expectations. I was still travelling with an Australian guy I'd originally met in San Pedro, and we stayed at 'Pariwana Hostel' in the Mirafolres neighbourhood. It was lovely. The hostel was big, clean and cheap enough on the food and drink front. They also offered a range of day activities, including a tour of Downtown Lima, which we took up. It turned out to be less of a tour of that actual part of the city (although we did walk through the large Plaza de Armas) and more a tour of an old Franciscan Monastery. It was beautiful, and took my back to being at school, you know, because of the whole 'Roman Catholic' thing? Although, these days I'm more impressed at the fact that I can walk into religious establishments without instantly bursting into flames.

The strangest, and cutest, thing about Lima though is Parque Kennedy. A park in the middle of Miraflores that is full of stray cats. I don't mean stray cats in a maingy, gross kind of way either. I mean it is literally a park fill of fluffy, cuddly cats who are out to scam you for your last chip. There was so many of them, and it made a nice change to the amount of street dogs I've seen across the continents various cities. Bizarre and adorable.

Sadly, it was in Lima that I had to say goodbye to James who was returning to Sydney. Without a doubt, the worst part of travelling and living in this little nomadic bubble is creating bonds with amazing people who live miles and miles away and having to say goodbye. It keeps you on your toes, and just ends up making you want to travel more so you get to see everyone again.

Then it was another fab journey with Cruz Del Sur up to Mancora, a beach town in north Peru. No words to express the happiness I felt at feeling the sun in my face once more. Lima had been both warm and by the beach, but was horribly overcast.

I had been told, by many, many people, that THE place to stay was the Loki del Mar. I had been told it was the craziest of all the crazy hostels and that I should prepare myself for full blown debauchery. In my head, it was like something out of 'Sun, Sex and Suspicious Parents' and my mother was going to pop out of the swimming pool catching me downing 3 litres of rum... It wasn't anything like that. Instead I found a good hostel, with a fab sized swimming pool and decent menu, that had a great vibe and offered alcoholic slushies. It had a little pathway straight on to the beach, where there were planet of opportunities to take part in water sports and surf lessons. Mascara was also fab for shopping, and I spent money out of my now dwindling budget on clothes I wont really be able to wear in a British climate (crochet crop top, anyone?)

It was also here that I met the next group of poor unfortunate souls who'd be stuck with me until way  into Ecuador.

I love the beach.

- xo

Hayley in Wanderlust: Cuzco

 

The Holy Grail of my trip, and one of the main reasons I've been so obsessed with coming to South America, is Machu Picchu. It's just one of those fantasy places. You know, the kind you read about and see pictures of but never actually think you'll get to visit? Like Lapland or the Moon.

There is, however, a lot more to Cuzco than just a fleeting visit on route to the famous Inca ruins. I was there for 11 days and could have stayed so much longer- the place is so much fun.

Following La Paz, I thought it best to avoid staying at the 'Wild Rover' here, and opted for the 'Milhouse' instead. Unlike it's Buenos Aires counterpart, this 'Milhouse' is unbelievably chill, the breakfast is amazing (fruit for breakfast in Bolivia and Peru doesn't really happen in hostels) and each bed is section off slightly and comes with it's own reading light. Sadly, I was only there for one night before opting for a cheaper hostel called 'The Point',  but I probably should have just spent my money. 'The Point' was clean, and offered the same facilities as 'Milhouse' but the place was organised chaos. As receptionists in one of the busiest backpacking point in South America your ONLY job is to assign people to the correct bed. That's it. Tell us where to sleep and get it right. Not rocket science, but when there was an issue every single day I was there, I started to wonder if maybe one required a degree in Quantum Physics in order to get it done.

I would love to say that I used Cuzco as a time for a little RnR, but that would be a lie. The Wild Rover here, although much tamer than the one in La Paz (Thank you Lord baby Jesus, and Mary and all of the saints), still served as the perfect place to start nights out on account of cheap drink offers and fun atmosphere. Then, we'd head to either Temple or Mama Africa's (very little recollection of either).

I also, went to a music festival whilst in Cuzco, and can subsequently never return to Ollantaytambo or The Sacred Valley of the Incas.

Spontaneity isn't really a word i'd associate with the choices I make, no matter how much i'd like to. I'm a control freak, who always tends to have a plan. Pulling an all-nighter at amusic festival in the middle of Sacred Valley was not part of my plan, but in the name of being a good backpacker (and because my friend and I woke up horrifically hangover and looking for anything to brighten up our day) when the opportunity to go to Arkana arose, I didn't say no. The three day pass was about £25, and despite the fact that we were only going for a night, it seemed like good value.
The whole thing was an experience, and I'm still not sure why Psych Trance is allowed to be a type of music, but I'm glad I went. Truth be told, I think I'm still getting over it...

Following Arkana, and once I'd managed to get a decent nights sleep and eat a meal not made on festival grounds, I headed into the Plaza de Armas to book my Inca Jungle Trek. To do the actual Inca Trail, you have to acquire you permits months in advance and be aware that it's over $700 to do. No thanks. I'd already read about, but had also been recommended the Inca Jungle Trek by dozens of people. It's way cheaper and wasn't just a solid four days of trekking - I was sold. I got mine, including white water rafting and zip-lining for $230, then paid an extra $10 to catch an earlier train.

Day one involved mountain biking 2000km down a road... it went horribly. I'm not a cyclists and Peruvians drive like crazy. I was mid panic attack about sixty light years behind the rest of my group when my guide pulled up in the van next to me asking if I just wanted a lift down. I obliged. Don't get me wrong, it was just another thing that made me feel like a big fat loser who can't do anything right, but sometimes it's important to admit defeat. I have other strengths.
The afternoon and whit water rafting where a much bigger success and whilst I'm still unsure as to the safety of the company we went with, it was so much fun I honestly didn't care. The views were unreal too. It looked like someone had painted the mountains and cloud around us.

Day two was hike day. It was hard work. Bloody hard work, actually. The sun shone gloriously and a solid two hours was an almost verticals uphill climb. At the start we walked along a road and I remember looking ahead to this great mountain that stood before us and thinking 'Fuck me, I'm glad we're not walking up that!'
We walked up that.
I resented every single second of the climb, but when we reached the top it was so worth it I wasn't sure if my lungs hurt from the strenuous exercise or the sheer beauty of the valley below me. It was incredible. I should hike more often (hahahahaha). On route, we stopped at two 'Monkey Houses', whilst our guide explained about Inca history, their culture and the way they used the land around them. Fascinating, by the time we reached lunch I felt I'd never earned a meal more in my life! (This 'out door' thing is still all quite new to me).



Day three involved a morning of zip-lining, which is probably the closest I'll ever come to flying and was proof my fear of heights is dwindling as I grow older and wiser and then a three jour walk. Following the pervious day's hike, three hours didn't seem too bad, but it was monotonous. We walked along the train tracks that take you to Aguas Calientes, the town that sits below Machu Picchu. Once you got over the prettiness of the place, the following 2.5 hours were mind numbingly dull. Aguas Calientes is a really cool town, but one that's soul purpose is clearly geared around tourism. Still, it was dinner with the group before heading to bed, ready for a 4am start.

There are two ways up to the Manhu Picchu site. The first, is taking the shuttle bus, which costs you $12 and starts running from 5:30am; the second is to walk up the Inca steps when the park opens at 5am. I chose the steps, you know, in the name of pushing myself. There were 1763 of them. 1763 steps of death that made the steps up to my Zia Gina's house in Sicily feel like an escalator. It was torture, every time I thought I was almost there I was most certainly not  almost there. It took me an hour. Please don't read this and think that it was your average staircase either because it wasn't. Each step was a different height, width and length. Some were gentle, some felt like the spirit of gym memberships past come to kick my arse. Reaching my destination has honestly never felt so good. When I entered the site and finally saw the ancient City of the Incas, I'm not ashamed to say that I had tears in my eyes. It just stunning, the weather was perfect and it was all just a bit 'knock me over with a feather' to be honest. I was speechless at it all because I'd done it. Me. Hayley Devlin who was last for every sports team known to man, the girl that used to hide behind the tennis courts during cross country, had made it to Machu Picchu. My ultimate Bucket List item, officially ticked off.

My return to Cuzco was brief, I arrived back at half 11 and by midnight was out and drinking, celebrating the fact that I'd survived it.

Dramatic and drunk...

They'll probably put that on my tombstone.

-xo

Hayley in Wanderlust: Bolivia

From Uyuni, my trip into Bolivia took me to the mining town of Potosi. I'd caught up with one of the girls I met in Santiago again after my Salt Flats tour ended and we made our way there together. Potosi is, it has to be said, far, far nicer than Uyuni (although, that isn't exactly hard), but unless you're going to do one of the mine tours, you don't really need a lot of time there.

My dislike of small spaces and, let's call it, 'fondness' of panic attacks, meant that climbing into a tiny working mine was off my agenda, but the girl I was travelling with went and said it was fascinating. For many, its a 'must-do' whilst in Bolivia, and its not a very expensive activity either. Whilst she was doing that, I decided to take a tour of the Iglesia de San Francisco (Church of St. Francis, my Nonna will be so proud). Its the second oldest church in Latin America, and the tour, which only cost BOB$15 (£1.50), offers the most amazing views of the city from the rooftop. However, the tour is in Spanish, and as far I know, isn't available in English. Fab if, like me, Spanish is one of the few (ok, only) skills you have, mot so great if not.

From Potosi, we caught a four hour bus to the city of Sucre, which apparently is the capital (if you follow me on Instagram, I will have already shared that fun fact with you- sorry for repeating myself). Sucre is beautiful, whilst I was there, the sun was shining and the days were warm, bizarre  for Bolivia, but I can't say that I did a great deal. Truth be told, I used to spend the day wandering in and out of the giant fruit and veg market, 'Mercado Central', where you can get your hands on a whole haul of fresh produce for well under a tanner. Take that, Tesco.
We stayed at the perfectly pleasant 'CasArte Takubamba', a quiet hostel with friendly staff, clean bathrooms and a kitchen set half in garden... Because everyone loves a bit of Al Fresco.

I'll be honest, it was really nice to have three 'down' nights following the Salt Flats. I know that being able to travel is all about seizing every opportunity available, but its also really easy to take things to far. As someone who could honestly party without a break for at least a month solidly if given the opportunity, it was wonderful to give myself a bit of rest time before I headed to La Paz...
I wouldn't fully appreciate how good it was until I was in La Paz and my life was swimming around me.


La Paz is an unbelievably amazing city; it's awesome. There's lots to do, its great to party and its a fab location for meeting other backpackers. But like most cities, it has it's dark side, and you really do have to be so much more careful here than anywhere else so far on this journey. I stayed at 'Loki' for one night and then 'Wild Rover Hostel' for about 6 nights. Both are infamous party hostel chains across Bolivia and Peru, but it 'Wild Rover' was undoubtedly the crazier of the two. There's three separate happy hours, free shots throughout the night and debauchery is generally encouraged. I felt right at home. Plus they have am extensive food menu, meaning if you didn't want to leave the hostel (and, honestly, it all came down to just how fragile you were feeling), you didn't have to.
I had lots of plans for my time in La Paz. I wanted to do Death Road, absail down a hotel with Urban Rush, see the city from one of the cable cars and browse both the Witches Market, and the market in El Alto.
It didn't go to plan.

On the Sunday that I was there, some friends from the hostel and I decided to kill two birds with one stone and take the red cable car up to the El Alto market, which only takes place on Thursdays and Sundays. The cable cars cost BOB$3 (30p), each way and offer the most stunning panoramic views of La Paz, which is basically a city in the clouds anyway. After an hour or so of worming our way around the market, we decided to head back down. The guys wanted to return to the hostel, but Catherine and I wanted to head to Witches Market. Both involved getting in taxis. The boys got in one, and Catherine and I got in the one that was flagged down, and pulled up behind it.
Essentially, there aren't uniform taxi's in Bolivia. In Sucre and Potosi, almost all of them had looked fake, but weren't. Its mot like being in London or New York, where legit taxis are very obvious, you know? There is also a type of taxi used in many South American countries called 'collectives', shared taxis that sometimes only follow a certain route, sort of like a bus, or hang about and take multiple passangers. When I first encountered them in Chile, I thought they were weird, but like most new customs you encounter when travelling, you get over it. I just want to say, that even though they're the norm out here, I still wouldn't get in one on my own and certainly not at night, but it was 2pm on a sunsay afternoon, and I was with someone.... Why would we have questioned it?
Then, the fun started. Another 'passenger' gets in, tells us he's from Ecuador and starts yapping away in Spanish and English. Then we're flagged down by a guy saying he's police. He asks the taxi driver for his papers, which the taxi driver shows him, and then he gets in the car. He starts talking, quickly and again in broken Spanish and English, demanding to see our passports (which obvz we didn't have on us, are you effing kidding me?!) and claiming that, since we were braking Bolivian law by mot having them on is, we just had to pop to office so he can see when we entered the country. Then, he starts searching through the other 'passenger's' things before demanding to search through our stuff too. I should probably add that, by this stage, we are now being driven, extremely fast, up the motorway that leads out of La Paz... but the penny still hadn't quiet dropped for me. All I knew was that I was terrified.
Before I knew what was happening, the driver had pulled over, and we were being told 'Thank you. Goodbye' (I'm not joking) as the 'Police Officer' opens the door and ushers us out onto the side of the road. Then they drove off.

Ours phones, Catherine's Kindle and some cash still with them.

Took a while to realise we'd been scammed to be honest, which just added to how horrific the whole thing made me feel. I cried on and off, for about four days and it took a least a week before I felt ok on my own again.

It all just made me feel like a bit of a failure. This trip has been my entire life since I finished university. I sacrificed the dream job, my life in Manchester and, if I'm being honest, relationships (or the possibility of relationships) to make it happen. Not to mention the fact that it's been my dream since I was at least 11. Things weren't supposed to go wrong. They were meant to be perfect. I was just beginning to feel like a capable human being, who could stand on her own two feet and be fearlessly herself again. It had been such a long journey to get back here... But in the space of a taxi ride, it had been shattered. Who was I trying to fool, right? I was rubbish at this.
For 24 hours (maybe more) they stole more than my phone and £8. They'd taken my entire trip.
I know that we got lucky, it wasn't violent, there were no knives or guns or force involved. That evening, when we were back at the hostel, we cheers'd to not having been raped, because honestly, if we had cottoned on to what was happening and fought it, it could have been a possibility.

Obviously, we were just unlucky. Wrong time, wrong place and all that jazz. I have really got to learn not to take things so heavily to heart, but two days later in was thrilled to leave La Paz and head to Lake Titicaca.

 

It's a high up, watery paradise. From Copacabana, I caught the ferry over to Isle Del Sol, where I spent the night. I have slept on Lake Titicaca, the room cost me £3 and it's possibly the most beautiful view I've ever woken up to.

Bolivia was a mixed bag, but so unbelievably beautiful I can't really say anything bad about it.

'An experience', as I believe the saying goes...

-xo