19th Dec 2005

Any thoughts of being slowly woken by the swishing of the pacific were dispelled by Salvador screaming in the new day at 6 am.
Through our mosquito screen there is a lovely view of the beach, no sewage works in sight. Frigate birds are gliding angular frames overhead and crabs scuttle for cover on the beach as the Mountain Buggy approaches.
A trip along the busy Pan American Highway to the ‘town’ of Zorritos was interesting and we eventually managed to get some formula milk and yogurt for Salvador.
I say eventually, because Zorritos is a two horse town, actually one horse and a donkey and not much else.
Speaking of donkeys, I never did tell the tale of the dismembered donkey in Cusco.
Anyway, Mum & Dad, Esther, Salvador & I went to the furniture and plant market the other Saturday, just as we were crossing the road I glimpsed one of the odder sights I have seen in Peru.
It was an old man struggling with a large tray that contained just a donkey’s head and hooves. We turned towards the supermarket and I sighed with relief that Esther hadn’t seen this grisly sight.
We finished our shopping and crossed the road to get a taxi, I looked up and there staggering in front was the old chap and his donkey bits again.
‘Can you see what that bloke’s got on his tray, that’s revolting’ said Esther ‘I really wish I hadn’t seen that’, we got the taxi before I could see the mule murderer drop the dead donkey or figure out why he had it at all.
Back to Zorritos and its one live Donkey and not much else, our journey back seemed quicker and Salvador was pleased as punch to be tottering about in our room again.
Then he tottered a little too much and fell flat on his face, tiled floors are not noted for their forgiveness and sure enough when I lifted up our yelling bundle, blood was dribbling from a split lip.
More screaming from Esther and me, but within minutes Salvador was giggling as he dipped his toes in the cool water of the pool; I just hope that there are no social service snatch squads touring South America as he looks like a little boxer at the moment.
I think I should have brought my Ranulph Fiennes book for tips on survival because food is going to be a problem here.
We are having to be creative and have just eaten fried yucca (again), salad and banana chips.
I think they ate the dogs on one of the polar expeditions, there are a couple of very stringy cats here but they don’t look too tempting.
Mind you that donkey had better watch out next time I see it.
Salvador and I went on a little trip to the beach while Esther was resting.
Typically I didn’t have my binoculars when an Osprey glided idly past before making a half hearted attempt at fishing and disappearing out into the bay.
Tomorrow we are planning to visit the mangroves at Tumbes where I might have more luck as I will be armed with both binoculars and telescope.
The developments in Bolivia where Evo Morales has been elected president are interesting, their first indigenous leader ever.
As a former leader of the coca growers, his election will not go down at all well in North America as won’t the candidature in Peru’s elections of Ollanta Humala, a left winger running on a similar ticket of nationalism.
There seems to be a big fear that Latin America is actually choosing the leaders its people want and given the boat rocking Hugo Chavez can do in Venezuela where he has the clout of oil - perhaps the times are changing here.
The spectacular infighting that goes on in South America invariably scuppers any united front that the region could present in order to progress.
More than enough politics, more Salvador, who has his own special shelf in the fridge at the hotel.
Not quite like the shelf in a shop fridge I saw in Zorritos this morning.
It gives a kind of indication of what sort of town it was when I at first thought the lower shelf of a fridge contained a curled up dog, then a dead goat (I could pick out individual hairs on it’s striped back) finally the light shone a bit better and I could see it was a black bin bag.
I’m not sure whether a black bin bag of unknown contents is better or worse.
What I do know is that one horse (or donkey) towns in Peru often throw up sights that you will never see anywhere else.
It also shows that you often see what you think you are seeing not what’s actually there, like the roof of our hotel room, which when we arrived last night I thought was constructed of delicately interwoven bamboo panels, I woke up this morning to a ceiling of lime green breeze blocks.
It is noticeable that the north of Peru is much cleaner than Cusco and the people are a lot more genuine.
Sitting on top of both the goose and the golden egg does not sit well with the psyche of the Cusquenos and their determination to squeeze or fleece every last dollar out of each tourist.
It is nice to be somewhere where people say ‘good morning’ rather than ‘postcard? … taxi to Sacred Valley etc’.
In a lot of ways this resort is very similar to the Canary Islands just as they were being developed, not much infrastructure and people queuing for drinking water in the morning.
It would not take much investment to turn this region in a real tourist money spinner for Peru but the obsession with the Incas means that precious little other development is made.
Zorritos and Tumbes are on a direct, flat route from Lima by road (albeit 18 hours by bus) so it’s not like other more mountainous routes that would need tunnels and major road-works to be in place in order to prosper.
After a few set backs so far it was nice tonight for one of my tactics to pay off.
Like the Mars Bars I used to stockpile in Cusco, I deliberately didn’t watch ‘Extras’ when it was on BBC in the UK, saving it for a moment of luxury in Peru.
That moment came tonight when I watched two episodes in our beach hut with the waves crashing outside.
Some people on holiday take long romantic walks on the seashore against a star studded sky.
I’m sure its lovely outside but seeing the episode with Kate Winslet as the nun has made my week.
Irrelevant fact of the day, I am reading a history of the Incas and am intrigued by the name of the royal road near Cusco, it apparently gloried in the exquisite moniker ‘the Cuntisuyo’ for some reason I haven’t found that in any English language books yet, no wonder the Inca Trail is called the Inca Trail.