Adios Peru

After Arequipa, we took an overnite bus to Ica - a dusty little town to the north and about 250 km south of Lima. I gave Pilar one of my infamous sleeping pills so she could try and make it through the noisy night. This proved to be great fun for me because I got to listen/watch her stumble and mumble through the night as she awoke to go the bathroom.
We were both asleep when the bus arrived in Ica at 4.30 AM, where we were hustled into an idling cab. Thankfully, we found a hostel at that hour and drifted off to sleep for a few hours. When we awoke we realized two things. One, it was Peruvian Independence Day
Two, there was practically nothing to do in Ica
After going to a sight where, supposedly, withcraft was practiced many years ago and visting a local winery

we travelled to an outdoor restaurant that we heard was good fun.

We had a grand ole´time eating big plates of food, drinking wine, and dancing to the live band. The whole restaurant crowd was on their feet dancing and the band called out Pilar and I for a toast. Something to the effect of "Let us toast these foreigners who are here with us on our Independence Day." Excellent folk. Pilar and I tenaciously debated the value in celebrating our respective nations´ birthdays, then we saw "Meet Dave" overdubbed in Spanish. Yikes.
Exiting quickly from Ica the next day we went to nearby Huacachina, a small town in the sand dunes centered around a small lagoon.

After strolling around town for awhile, we took a group ride in a dune buggy across the bizarre landscape. It was like a rollercoaster ride.

We reached a series of dunes where our group hopped out of the buggy to prepare to sand-board. Like snowboarding, except, well, on sand dunes.

I was over-confident because of my succesful first-try and I nearly knocked myself out on my second attempt after losing my balance. The 3rd and 4th tries were fine, then I, once again, flipped ass-over-tea-kettle down the 5th dune after accumulating a great deal of speed. I am still sore.



We made it to Lima the next day - nearly 8 million people and, according to everyone we talk to, crime-ridden. However, everyone has been extremely friendly in dispensing advice. Our first taxi-driver (a very, very large man) was a little crazy and, in between unwrapping candies, told us incorrect things about our hostel´s side of town. As we sat in the mind-numbing traffic a traffic cop caught sight of Pilar and I within the taxi and came over to check the driver´s papers and to make sure the gringos weren´t being hassled. He didn´t have something and received a ticket. This city is crazy, like Los Angeles.

We head to Colombia tomorrow.