Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Here, There, And Somewhere In The Middle







Meyellow!

So I have finally moved on after spending 2 weeks in the small surf town of Huanchaco, filling my time with hammocks, exploring some ruins, and yes, surfing. It was difficult to leave that little beach paradise but I could hardly complain after I arrived to hang out in the desert oasis of Huacachina. More on the Huacachina experience next time. For now, a few events that lead up to my arrival at the oasis.

The problem with opting for a taxi ride is that you dont always know what you are getting. The best you can really do is glance at the car and if it doesnt look like its going to fall apart once it hits 30, you get in. More often than not, things are just fine and you pay for an uneventful ride. And then there are times when you discover that the taxi´s primary brakes are basically nonexistant. Fortunately the driver has gotten as good as one can get at using a combination of down shifting and the emergency brake. Not the smoothest of rides, but hey, it worked.

Taxis are only one form of transportation that I have become all too familiar with. Another is buses, which happen to be how I get transported from one city to the next. So far the majority of my rides have been in the 8 to 10 hour range, happen over night, and go through some mountain range that would make those in the US consider going back to diapers.

When I was young, I remember going camping with my family. As my dad would navigate the narrowish roads up in the mountains, my mom would occupy her time flipping out worse than a baboon full of cocaine in a bounce house who had just discovered a glob of peanut butter on his tail. For some reason the combination of my dad´s driving and the ever looming steep hill/cliff on one side or the other didnt sit well with her. I would like to first point out that my dad´s driving was in no way unsafe and that my mom, as much as I love her, may have been being a bit irrational. All that is to say this, I would pay huge loads of money to see the video of my mom on one of these buses through the mountains that I have ridden. And I say video because I would refuse to ride that bus with my mom because it would no doubt wreek of urinated pants, buckets of puke, and each person would have numerous scratches from the whirlwind of freak out that my mom would no doubt create because these bus rides are exponenially crazier than anything my dad could have cooked up when I was little.

Anywho, I heard of some sweet ruins to go check out at one point, sooooo........
After six hours on a bus that can easily be catagorized as the bumpiest and least butt friendly of all time, my buns were rather irate with me and my insistance upon that trip. For the next several days, my cheeks and I were not even on speaking terms. They only began to come around once I promised them a night out with many opportunities to shake their groove thang.

And shake it they did. Before that night, if you would have told me that in a small Peruvian town, I had never heard of, that I would end up in the center of the dance floor with all eyes on me as i broke it down, quite thoroughly, to a song that was awesome like four years ago, I would never have believed you. Ok, I totally would not have been surprised because I have some odd talent for ending up in these situations. Regardless, after that night I definitely put that whole dance scenario down on my bucket list, just so I could cross it off.

Thats it for now. Future posts will consist of desert oasis tales and of course I can´t be in Peru without a little Machu Pichu action, which I begin trekking towards on Monday.

So much love. Seriously, you dont even know.

2 comments:

  1. Reading these posts is becoming more and more painful. My buns too scream at me for sitting on them all day studying purportedly important facts that supposedly might save some abstract life years from now. However, my buns do not get to let loose by trekking to Machu Pichu, or surfing incredible waves. OK, there are the occasional weekend dance floor fiascos, but my point remains. I sit and read and occasionally take a study break to follow your fantastic misadventures, which only exacerbates the jealousy that is brewing like Mt. St. Helens in 1980. I wish that the adventures will keep coming so I can continue to read about them and vacation vicariously through your trip. -R

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  2. Oh my gosh! What a riot! Hate I missed you shaking your groove thang!
    Love you,
    Auntie Leigh

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