Another town...another Plaza de Armas

Does that title sound a little tired? Every town, by the way, has a Plaza de Armas, however small. So if you are ever here and need to arrange a place to meet people when you haven´t actually been to the town, it´s a really safe bet. I love South America with a passion almost unrivelled, but it really doesn't like me. I was just clearing the four week virus, loss of voice and chest infection and felt really healthy on Thursday. I woke up on Friday morning with a tickly nose and throat and by Friday afternoon I had a newly cultivated, top quality, sneezing cold and bright red throat, with white spots, and with an added touch of fever for good measure. I need Sass, my australian acupuncturist, to unblock my chi.



Chan Chan

I'm in Northern Peru at the moment, an area where the Moche and Chimu left there greatest mark. The Moche were the major force here around the BC/AD era for about 700 years and the Chimu from around 1000 to 1500, when they co-existed in a less powerful form with the Inca, until the Spanish colonisation. The Chimu built the city of Chan Chan. It's the largest pre-colombian city in the continent, adobe built, so whilst there has obviously been a lot of erosion over time and destruction due to devastating looting by the colonising Spanish, it is still very very impressive. I also went to the Rainbow Temple (La Huaca Arco Iris) and the Moche temples of the Sun and Moon. The spiritual history of the people is very interesting. These ceremonial pyramids are really impressive. Renovations and archaeological excavations are going on at some of the sites and they are uncovering some very well maintained temple buildings, brickwork and friezes. There is an area called Human Sacrifice Square. Whether it was actually called that in the Chimu A to Z ... the jury is still out.

There is the perennial problem here of poverty. More than half the population live below the poverty line, so taking care of antiquities is not high on most peoples agendas. As with so many important things, in terms of history, environment and conservation, they become the remit of the worried middle classes, because the poor cant afford to worry about it. What a tragedy in so many ways.

I had an afternoon at the beach. The bright young things were surfing. This battered old body sat and read a book of Pablo Neruda poetry (it is one of my fervent desires to read it in the original spanish), people watched and ate ice-cream, with an occasional paddle in the cold pacific, thinking rather wistfully of doing the same thing in Venice 6 weeks earlier. The waves were powerful and dark, dark grey with huge foamy white horses and the undercurrent was very strong. I love the sea. Perhaps it comes from being brought up land locked, but it would make me really happy to live within walking distance of the sea.

I had a very interesting lunch yesterday. Thinking a healthy piece of fish would serve me well with my new found illness, I went to the Lonely Planet recommended De Marco for a treat. The spanish is stretched at the best of times (always) but food somehow throws me a curved ball...as they say...all the time. This was a kind of fish patty, a bit similar to very substandard fish finger content...Kwik Save not ´Cap'en Bird's Eye´, obviously. This 'fish' patty was then battered and fried and then double fried with a battery fried egg coating. This came with a bowl of rice, bread and some double fried potatoes. I don't know what clogged up first but I'm thinking there weren't a lot of vitamins in there...I also had a rather amusing lunch companion who took a fancy to my straw laces.




I am completely tennis starved! This morning at breakfast...oh joy! The cafe was showing the second Shanghai Masters semi-final on ESPN. Did I mention that I LOVE ESPN... My plan to go to the Archaeological Museum and the museum in the basement of a garage was slowly going up in smoke. And it was James Blake and David Nanpatten and I'm not even that keen on their styles. The clip of Roge and Rafa looked like that should have been the final. No chance of me watching the Roge /Blake match. I'll be on another bus. Nanpatten is David Nalbandian, by the way. Sally's mum, the most avid tennis watcher, and formerly player, I have EVER met, doesn't much like the 'cut of his jib'. Consequently, she can never remember his name. So he has become David Nanpatten, named after a small village in north west Leicestershire, UK. The great Mrs.C thinks that Roge is probably the greatest player who has ever lived and I am inclined to agree.

While I'm on a roll with this moaning (see afflictions paragraph above)...there are two things that annoy me here. It is impossible to walk 2cm, no kidding, without a taxi driver honking at you. Sometimes they swerve across the road, cutting straight across traffic lanes, just to check. Considering Peru is set up for tourists, you would think they might have cottoned on to the use of the international taxi hailing gesture. The other thing is the way men suck their teeth at you. Call me an old hippy / 80's feminist type but... Today a taxi driver swerved over to the pavement (actually scarily just on the pavement) sucked his teeth, and then checked if I wanted a taxi for good measure.

I did make it to the archaeological museum by the way...some fine examples of the ceramics from the temples I saw yesterday.



The road to Huaraz...apologies I cant turn the photos and its a little difficult to try and work it out in spanish...I also cant find the apostrophe. Now that must be driving you crazy!

Something I forgot to tell you about Huaraz...It is the stationery capital of Peru, more envelope and printing shops than I have ever seen in one small area, and I am positive that the local government stipulate in the terms and conditions of the lease for the setting up of hairdressers that you must use an old photo of Brad Pitt to advertise your hairdressing services to westerners. I saw 10 hairdressers and EVERY one had a Brad photo...evidenced below...



Peak District Jules has just taught me a rather interesting spanish phrase (I think it's from Butch Cassidy). So if you see that I´ve been arrested for a bank robbery you know that I successfully tried out 'Esto es un robo. Pongan los manos en al aire!'