Nazca lines

We hitch to the mirador. We don't actually stand there on the side of the street holding out a thumb or a forefinger. We are walking on the street in Nazca, and a man next to a vehicle asks if we are going to the lines, and we say yes. We agree on a price of four Soles, and he shows us to his car, where five other gentleman are already sitting. We get it, squished in the back. I am obviously the on-the-lap-so-everyone-can-fit girl, and obviously I am not sitting on a strange Peruvian man's lap, I sit on Wade's lap. Only once we are out of the city and on the PanAmerican Highway in wilderness does it occur to the two of us that we have basically hitched a ride, and that we would NEVER do something like this back in the States. We would NEVER get in a car with strangers, we would NEVER not put on our seatbelts, we would NEVER enter a minivan with more than seventeen people on it, etc. But it just makes sense here. Perhaps because there was an exchange of money, perhaps because the car already had several passengers, perhaps because we are traveling and having ADVENTURES, who knows.

Once at the mirador, we marvel at our surroundings. We are in the middle of a desert, with reddish mountains to one side, flatland on the other, and a narrow strip of highway in the middle going on and on and on. This highway is the PanAmerican, a road that stretches from the very bottom of Chile all the way to the top of Columbia, into Central America, and perhaps even across the border into one of our interstates. It is a long, long stretch of highway, and a road trip destination for the incredibly dedicated. Here, it is only two lanes -- one in each direction -- paltry, compaired to the 405 or 101 that stretch across California. And after our car drives on, empty. We cross it slowly, then run the other way, then stand in the middle and laugh.

We climb the mirador, which is a small hilly mound maybe three stories high. From the top, we can sort of make out some lines that stretch into the distance, and we can tell that way in the distance the lines twist around and make a shape, but that's about it.

While one the mirador, we meet some Japanese boys. Turns out they are on our bus tonight! There is also a small TV crew at the base of the mirador, and the boys tell us that the girl they are filming is a famous TV star. We saw a celebrity! In Peru!

We get back to the city by riding with one of the Japanese guys. All the internet places report that the net is down in Nazca. We have an early pizza (con palta, how wierd) at Julio's resturaunt. When we are done, the internet is back, and we do that for a bit. We have our first taste of the excellent SUBLIME chocolate bar, and go wait at the bus station.


Question of the Day: Name one quality of Peruvians you like, and one quality you don't. (Not truly a question, but it begs an answer, so there.)
Wade: He likes that Peruvians have no shame, and he doesn't like that they all have gaps in their teeth.
Me: I like that they love talking to tourists, and I don't like all the litter.

(My first response was that I loved all the pineapple products in this country, but it was pointed out to me that that is not a quality of Peruvians.)