Nazca Lines

What Macchu Picchu was to me, the Nazca Lines were to Keith. So, as soon as we arrived in Lima, we began researching ways to see them. We realized that they were a fair distance way from the city, so all of the tours left around 3 a.m. Keith and I are morning people, but not that sort of morning people. Plus, most of the buses didn't return to Lima until super late at night, meaning we'd be on buses for a really long time. We weighed the pros and cons to to the various trip, before finally it hit me: we could rent a car.

After all, we'd driven in pretty much all conditions for gigs, so how bad could it be?

Keith dug this idea, and within 10 minutes, we had a rental car booked.

I'm an anal retentive planner, but decided to give into Keith's spontaneity when he suggested that we just head down to Nazca and then try to book a flight. To be honest, little planes scare the living daylights out of me, so my plan was to just smile and wave as Keith made his way up into the sky in a tiny death machine (and then show people pictures he had taken and pass them off as my own). I have a degree in acting; I might as well use it to lie to people to tell them about experiences I didn't really have.

So, we rented a car, and sent off for Pisco (where the airport is). I was more than a little pumped about driving in Peru.

We quickly realized that driving in Peru is slightly really different than it is in the United States. For example, people seem to think nothing of it to cross five lanes of traffic. With no turn signal. In fact, I'm pretty sure we were the only car on the road using our signal. We finally got with the program, tried to be like locals, and just used our horn when we wanted to cross a lane. When in Rome, right?

We drove along the Pacific coast for the majority of the drive, which was beautiful!

Okay, so that's not the coast, but it is a billboard we saw along the way.

At one point, we stopped at a gas station/rest area. I didn't think to tell Keith that one of my guidebooks said that rest areas in Peru do not have toilet paper, so it's common for people to bring their own. I started laughing to myself as I could hear Keith, who speaks no Spanish, trying to ask the clerk, who speaks no English, for toilet paper. After some confusion and bewilderment on the part of the clerk, Keith finally got his point across by pointing to his rear end and then signaling toward the bathroom.

Ah yes, the butt point: the universal symbol for toilet paper. Take notes, kids.

I also got a chance to try Inca Kola, which is all the rage in Peru. I tried the diet kind first, which left a bit to be desired. But, once I had the regular version, I could see why people love it. I dug it so much that I even bought an Inca Kola t-shirt later in the trip.


After winding our way down the coast, and sighting quite a bit of tuk-tuks, which we affectionately started calling "scooter taxis," we made it to Pisco.


Despite looking it up in our GPS and looking for signs, we saw no traces of an airport.

So, I rolled down my window to ask a cab driver. He was so sweet, and not only gave us directions, but he pointed out his window when we were supposed to turn.

He immediately pointed us down a dirt road, and I began questiiniog my ability to speak Spanish. Surely, no airport is located off of a dirt road, right?

So, after traveling several miles on the dirt road and stumbling into what appeared to be a tiny fishing village, I asked another person. He confirmed that we were in the right place and pointed us down an even narrower dirt road. I might even dare to call it a path.

We finally saw what looked like it could be an airport, but the entire thing was under construction. Again, I thought, "surely, this can't be it, right?"

I found a security guard at the airport/construction site, and he assured me that yes, this was the airport, and we were in the right spot. I asked him where we could park, and he pointed me in the direction of what looked to be a gravel pit. I asked him over and over again to confirm that we could, indeed, leave our car there (again, questioning my Spanish abilities the entire time), and he kept saying yes. I know he was probably confused with all the questions, but I've never parked in a gravel pit, at an airport, that contains no other vehicles before.

Our conversation went a little something like this:

"Park here?"

"Yes."

"Like, right here?"

"Yes."

"Um...are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Uh...okay, so, the fact that there are no other cars here is okay?"

"Yes."

"Um....uh...okay...so, we can park here all day?"

"Yes."

I'm sure he was annoyed, and I think Keith was, too. But, I can only imagine how fun it would be tell Hertz that our rental car was in the impound in a tiny fishing village that apparently GPS can't locate.

So, finally, we parked, and we found the front door to the airport.

We walked in and asked if we Keith could get on a flight. Sadly, we were informed that the last flight left a half hour ago.

Then, one of the airport employees takes us aside and in the most mobster way says, "Hey...I gotta guy."

He then proceeds to tell us how his "guy" will take just us in the air for $1,200.00 and give us our own private tour.

Again, maybe I'm a big 'fraidy cat, but I am not about to get into a crop duster with just anyone at the wheel. Besides, "having a guy" is totally cool for things like a mechanic or house-painter. But, a pilot? Um, no thank you.

So, we piled back into the car, feeling defeated. Although, we did see some amazing sunsets on the way back.

 And I took a picture of the town square:


In the morning, we had to return our rental car to the airport, but the GPS we rented stopped working. We didn't have a lot of time to spare, and as luck with have it, I saw a bus that had the word "air" on it just as we were leaving the hotel, so I told Keith "follow that bus!"

We followed this thing as it swerved, cut people off, and weaved in and out of traffic. During this time, I noted two things: 1. Keith is an amazing driver, and 2. it would be really hard to be a private investigator in Peru because tailing someone in a car would be nearly impossible.

But, by goodness, that bus got us right to the airport! Then, it was off to Cusco!