Peru
Across the border to Peru and the second revolution
Okay, off we go to the Peruvian border. The bus stopped just before it got there because it wasn't allowed to cross the border. Someone had mentioned a Peruvian consul in this town. We found the address in a very old house on the second floor. We knocked on the door. A very old man with thinning hair opened the door and invited us in.
We told him that apparently we now needed a visa to enter Peru. He laughed out loud and said: "That's probably a joke. You don't need a visa."
It was already late afternoon and we wanted to say goodbye. He asked: "Where are you going now?"
"We'll find a hotel and cross the border tomorrow."
"That's not necessary. I'll be driving home to the other side of the border in a few minutes. If you want, you can ride in my jeep on the bridge."
We thanked him warmly, descended the stairs and waited a few minutes. The gentleman came, asked us to get on and drove off. After a while, we reached the border. The Peruvian customs officers greeted him warmly - apparently he drove home every day. The customs officer asked about the two of us on the bridge. The consul replied: "They are my friends." We were allowed to continue without having to show our passports. At no other border crossing was it so easy.
Throughout our trip, we never had any serious problems at any border. Sometimes customs officers tried to get a bit of money from us, but our basic Spanish course often proved very useful.
The consul dropped us off in a small village where we found a good and cheap hotel. We only spent one night there. The next day we got on the bus that took us to Trujillo via Chiclayo.
Trip to Trujillo
In Trujillo, we moved into a room in a small, clean hotel. The landlord informed us that water shortages were sometimes to be expected.
We explored the Plaza de Armas - a very beautiful square with many buildings dating back to the time of the Spanish conquest. We took a collectivo cab to the Chan Chan ruins, a city built from clay and inhabited by the Chimus. The Swiss explorer Johann Jakob von Tschudi was instrumental in researching these sites. Today there is a restored era named after him. After our sightseeing tour and a great evening in the old town with young people, we continued by bus to Lima the next day.
Comfortable bus to Lima
After a ten-hour drive along the coast, we arrived in Lima. We moved into a room not far from the bus station. We soon discovered the "Chifas" - Chinese restaurants with very good cuisine. They were mostly run by the descendants of Chinese workers who had previously been brought into the country by foreign construction companies for large building projects.
Nowadays, Peruvian cuisine is considered one of the best in the world. We couldn't afford these fine restaurants back then, but we were always very satisfied with the chifas: excellent cooking, very friendly service, and the waiters were mostly of Chinese descent.
We also visited the old town of Lima, where we found a whole street full of chifas. The food was excellent and very cheap.
We were only able to admire the government palace and the archiepiscopal residence from the outside. We also found the train station and bought tickets for the train journey from Lima to Huancayo. We planned to travel the day after next. The train left at 6:30 am and the wrought iron station gate was opened at 6:00 am.
Tanks drove through the narrow streets
On the way back to our hotel, we suddenly heard an eerie noise. We were very surprised when the narrow street we were on was suddenly filled with tanks. We both quickly disappeared into a doorway and let the tanks drive past.
We then walked down to the Plaza de Mayor - a very beautiful, large square with a large monument in the middle. The square was full of people shouting slogans and holding signs in the air. There were tanks on two corners. At first, people were told to leave. A spectator next to us translated.
We were standing on the edge of this beautiful square.
Shooting over people with machine guns
After a while, machine guns were fired across the square. Everyone present threw themselves on their stomachs. I said to Rolf: "Come on, we've lost nothing here. I want to keep traveling." Rolf was of the same opinion. We crept along the walls of the buildings until we turned into the small street where our hotel was located and checked into our room.
This was the second revolution we had experienced during our trip. The first had been in Laos.
We got up very early the next day. An employee gave us a black coffee with lots of sugar and a corn roll. We walked to the station. It wasn't yet 6 o'clock and there was already a whole crowd of people waiting to get in at the iron gate. We lined up at the back and were watched with curiosity. I didn't see a single other foreigner. Most of the passengers were locals with bags and packs, small children, chickens and small cages.
A railroad employee told us to get into the front of the carriage if possible - most of the others preferred the first carriages on the quay.
Lima to Huancayo (4,781 m above sea level)
The train set off, pulled by a diesel locomotive. First it went through a fairly flat valley along a small river, then steeply up the mountain over many hairpin bends. As already mentioned, the carriage was full of locals and Indians. The women wore wide, brightly colored skirts and hats. We sat at the window and could see train workers jumping off at every hairpin bend to change the points for the upward journey.
Next to Rolf and me sat an Indian woman, on the other side four other women with small children and even an infant. There was plenty of luggage. I assume they all knew each other - they were always grinning and telling each other something. We were probably the talk of the town.
The journey took a few more hours to reach the highest point of the route: La Oroya at 4,781 meters above sea level. The entire journey took around ten hours. In Huancayo
After a while, the woman next to me began to feel my forearm. She made a comment and the other women grinned.
Then she felt my upper arm and my right shoulder - presumably telling the others that I was strong.
Finally, she also put her hand on my right thigh.
I felt a bit like an animal at the market.
When she hinted at continuing below my belt, I said loud and clear:
"¡Nada!" - No.
That was the end of the scanning. When we arrived in Huancayo, we waved to the grinning women - they waved back and grinned even wider. It must have been a unique experience for them to pat down a gringo.
We found a small, simple hotel right next to a radio station. The walls weren't particularly well insulated, so we had musical entertainment until midnight. Funny.
No bus to Cusco
The next day, we boarded the bus to Ayacucho. We only wanted to change there, but couldn't because the route from Ayacucho to Cusco was blocked by many landslides. So we were forced to take the flight from Ayacucho to Cusco. The flight took about three hours.
When we arrived in Cusco, we found a hostel just above the Plaza de Armas. It was run by an Austrian. The rooms were simple, but the beds had enough blankets and there was a shower in the corridor. There were many small restaurants and street kitchens around the plaza.
We visited the Jesuit church. After the Spaniards had conquered and plundered, they built their churches and houses on the foundations of the Inca sites. Cusco lies at 3,400 meters above sea level - we found the climate pleasant.
Just outside the city, we visited the impressive Inca fortress of Sacsayhuamán, built from huge blocks of stone joined together seamlessly. You don't put a piece of paper in the joints - how this was done remains a mystery to this day. We also visited the Museo Inca.
Guinea pigs (cuy) were the main food on offer. On a short walk outside the city, we saw how the locals kept these animals in the kitchen and fed them with household leftovers. Here in Europe, they are considered pets and are often given lots of cuddles. Here in Peru and Bolivia, they are seen primarily as a source of meat.
We had planned a trip to Machu Picchu for a few days later. We bought the necessary tickets for the train (there was no entrance fee for the ruined city back then). We boarded a simple train - not a tourist version - which went to the station down at Machu Picchu. The journey took just over an hour and ran alongside the Urubamba River for most of the way.
A small bus was waiting at the station to take us up to the ruined city. We spent practically the whole day there, walking around a lot, taking photos and sitting in places where this is now strictly forbidden. From stories told by friends who have been there in recent years, everything is now fenced off and many places are no longer accessible.
There were no hotels in 1974. We planned to climb the small Picchu (Huayna Picchu), but it started to rain heavily. A ranger strongly advised us against it because the steps carved into the rock were very slippery.
At the end of the afternoon, we boarded the train back to Cusco. It was a beautiful, eventful day.
On to Puno and across the border to Bolivia
From Cusco, our journey continued by train to Puno. The train was very slow and took about ten hours. There were countless stops where passengers got on and off the train. Something was sold at almost every stop - including cheese made from llama milk and grilled choclos (corn on the cob). In the Andes of South America, we often ate these grilled corn on the cob.
Personally, at the beginning of our trip to South America, I had already discovered small street vendors selling tiny cans of Stalden sweetened condensed milk. Every now and then I treated myself to a small can like this - not cheap, but it did my stomach good.
Rooms in Puno and the floating islands of the Uros
We moved into a room in Puno. The next day we took a small motorboat to the floating islands of the Uros.
Rolf and I were the only foreigners on board when suddenly two men came running up - southern type, in a suit with a light-colored shirt, tie and street shoes. No prejudice, but these two didn't fit in at all.
As soon as the boat had cast off, one of the men asked: "Are you Germans?"
"No."
"Austrian?"
"No."
"Then you're Swiss."
"Yes."
The questions seemed very strange in this environment. I tried to assign their accent to a country - but I couldn't. Rolf and I understood each other without words; a few glances were enough. Rolf asked back: "And you, where are you from?" One of them didn't answer: "It doesn't matter."
This encounter was of no value to us. When the boat docked at the island, Rolf and I could hardly contain our laughter: The two of them immediately sank a little into the reeds with their city shoes. As soon as they were on the island, they were already back on the boat. The boatman wanted to go back immediately. We told him: "We've only just arrived - let's stay a little longer."
We wanted to visit the inhabitants of the island this morning. The islands are built from totora reeds and are constantly "refilled" as needed so that they don't sink into the water. Only a few people live there permanently. The totora reed is also eaten - raw or cooked, as we were shown. I tried it raw and found it pleasantly fresh. They also built their boats from totora reeds; when one stopped floating, they simply built a new one.
Smuggling wool for the Indio women
Back at the hotel, we had dinner and found out how we could get to La Paz in Bolivia. There were only two collectivo cabs per day that took this route - one at 6am with arrival in the afternoon. We opted for the early one.
We got up in good time and went to the bus stop. Many Indian women were waiting there. One of them spotted our almost empty rucksacks and started stuffing Rolf's and my rucksack full of balls of wool - really full. I tried with my Spanish, but all the women just grinned. I assumed that there was a lot of wool smuggling going on between Peru and Bolivia. I didn't have a guilty conscience about it.
It was a small bus. We were all crammed together. There was a police check on the way. The policeman looked at me and asked: "Where are you from?"
I replied in Spanish: "Soy suizo."
I think half or all of the bus made an impressed "Hm, hm..."
The policeman continued on his way, but before continuing, the driver slipped him a small note.
Impressions
