Sol y Luna

Yesterday was tiring, today was exhausting.

Yesterday morning my sister, Katrina, decided that she wanted to go see Los Salineras (the salt-mines) as well, and only wanted me to come with her since she was meeting her friends (in our family parents and friends aren't generally allowed to mix). So once again I set off down the road then up the hillside.

Unfortunately yesterday was a hell of a lot warmer than the day before, I'd been sat outside with the laptop for five minutes and the keyboard got too hot to touch, so the walk was even more torturous than before. We eventually made it to the top of the Salineras, with sweat not quite dripping off us, and stocked up on water before making our way down again. On the way we bumped into my sister friends. They seemed nice but we couldn't stay and chat for long as we had to get to Calca for lunch with my sister's host family.

Lunch was an interesting experience. My sister's host brother, who was a little older than me, spoke good English but refused to talk in anything but Spanish in front of my sister, for some obscure reason, so my sister was stuck translating for my mum while me and my dad attempted to make conversation with our bad Spanish.

After lunch we went for another walk up another hill. It had cooled off by now and my sister was certain that it was going to pour down any minute now, but we proceeded upwards nevertheless. All that happened was a brief shower that had unusually big raindrops. I spent most the walking keeping track of a game of football taking place on one of the many, many pitches in Calca and the view from the top of the hill was definately worth the effort even if it wasn't in the same league as some of the sights we've seen.

We got a bus home in the dark and I was almost falling asleep. The moonlight here is so much brighter than at home, it's incredible, and the constellations above are strange but majestic.

I woke up this morning, not feeling all that refreshed, and wishing that I didn't have to be out of bed quite so early. After breakfast we caught an other bus, this one to Pisac. Well most of us did. My sister had stayed the night in Calca and was supposed to meet us on the way and my mother, well she forgot the tickets for the ruins and had to go back to get them.

So there we were me, my dad and my brother sat on the bus. Naturally Calca came and went with no sign of Katrina, so we proceeded to Pisac alone. On arrival we found the market, that's apparently famous in this part of Peru. My brother objected to it as yet another tourist trap and my dad was slightly tentative and possibly getting lost. I however loved it.

Going from stall to stall bargaining for the best price on gifts for my friends at home. I don't know how many times I was told that "is real Alpaca wool" in a way that implied I was asking too cheap but I managaed to get cheaper prices than my sister, who had eventually arrived, despite her having the advantage of being able to speak Spanish. My mum and dad were fairly hopeless at bartering, and my brother still refused to accept the fact that he is actually a tourist despite what he may imagine and wouldn't indulge in such activities.

After yet another delicious lunch we caught a taxi up to the ruins. On arrival a girl of 7 or 8 took a break from selling bracelets and asked me for some popcorn, which I was holding in my hand. When I said she could have some she tried to take the whole bag off me. I quickly explained "un poco, un poco," and she took a small handful. I scarpered before she could tell all her friends who she'd got it off.

The ruins were fantastic. Situated up a decent sized hill, which would probably be called a mountain in England, I couldn't help but wonder how the Incas had managed to get the stone up there without so much as a wheel. It was incredible, and it only got better.

We climbed on upwards past set after set of incomplete stone buildings, many still half-buried, until we reached the top of the ridge. We walked, scrambled and climbed along, until we reached the end. And there we found yet another breath-taking view. This one was in a league of it's own though. Down beneath us lay a valley filled with towns and fields. The drop must have been atleast 1000 metres and me and my brother were sat on the edge loving every second of it.

My mum turned out to be not so keen on heights and so had hurried on. It was some time before my brother noticed pointed this out to me but eventually we began to make our way down the hill. It took us over an hour of passing more incredible ruins and stunning view points before we reached Pisac again. I was exhausted by the end of it. That clearly wasn't the route the American tourists took, there was one narrow cave that was a squeeze for us. (I should say by American Tourist I don't mean your average American rather the ones who get noticed for being very stereotypically large with more money than sense.)

It's been a thoroughly exhausting 2 days so my spelling and punctuation is a bit off you know why, but it's been exhillarating at the same time. I'm falling in love with Peru and going home on Thursday is looking all too soon.