Something Amusing
A couple of days ago Andrew and I caught a colectivo (like a taxi but cheaper and with more people crammed in) and headed up to the town of Luya. Our intention was to trek up to el Pueblo de los Muertos (the City of the Dead).
We got to the town at 10am and were pointed in the direction of the tourist information office, which turned out to be a small emptyish room. I say ‘emptyish’ because it did contain a guy to whom we explained that we wanted to see el Pueblo. In reply, he proceeded to tell us about all of the other tourist attractions in the area. “No,” we explained, “we'd just like to see el Pueblo, do you have a map?” “Yes” he said and showed us a tatty map on the wall, which looked as though it had been drawn by a 5 year old with a flimsy grasp distances.
We decided to walk there alone. The tourist info guy explained that, being tourists, we’d need a guide. We explained that we were British tourists and that such talk cut no ice with us. “Fairy snuff” said the guy and charged us 3 soles for a key and pointed us off in the general direction of el Pueblo whilst muttering some sage words of advice which I interpreted as ‘Go up hill, turn left, keep on going.’ We tried to confirm this with another chap who told us ‘Take the first left, then head up the hill on your right.’ Andrew’s translation however was ‘Take the first left and head straight on’, and this is what we did although God knows why as Andrew's Spanish is lamentable and at the first possible opportunity we got lost.
After a while we saw some men loading wood into a pickup, so we asked their advice. They agreed with us that we’d got lost and pointed in a seemingly random direction. They also told us to look slightly upslope where we saw some old sarcophagi that we’d otherwise have missed, so that was sort of a bonus. We thanked the men and left them to their work as we set off once again. Two minutes later they caught us up and found us looking puzzled at a road junction at which point they loaded us into the pickup and simply took us back to where we should have been in the first place. Their directions were clear: ‘Go up, keep to the left, hit the main path, turn left onto main path and don't stray off it!’
Our confidence restored, we set off again, even stopping to check our course with a group of potato harvesters who all helpfully pointed in the direction we were headed. The main track eventually led us to what looked less like a ruined city of the dead and more like a large collection of shrubberies. Closer inspection revealed that it was actually a large collection of shrubberies and at the second attempt we found a path through them, which we followed for a way before realizing that we'd still been walking about an hour longer than we technically should have, even taking into account our detours. We stood, gazing over the valley and agreed upon the best course of action. We cut our losses and went back. El Pueblo de los Muertos was never found by us.
One of the factors in our decision to return was the awareness that we had to make it back in time for the last colectivo. After another stretch of improvised route finding we made it back into town and sheepishly handed in the key, resisting the temptation to ask for our money back. When the guy asked whether we’d enjoyed the city, we cravenly fell back on: “Si, muy Bonito, muy interestante.” (Sorry, we're British & we don't speak your
language.) The shame!
To end on a happier note, yesterday we took another colectivo up to Huancas (a village nearby) and walked back. The scenery was amazing! Coming back into Chachapoyas, and still exhilarated, we headed up the steps to the city’s viewpoint, (have I mentioned all the places have a viewpoint over here?). On our way up we heard music and walked straight into what could only be called a party. We were accosted by a number of drunk Peruvians and naturally, bearing in mind it was 3.00 in the afternoon, joined in. I think they were celebrating the opening of the new steps but I wouldn’t swear to it. We were plied with home-brewed cider made from cane spirit (fermented cane sugar), a big local drink both here and in Ecuador. It's like the cheapest, harshest, strongest vodka you've ever tasted but with a throat burn that you’d normally associate with molten lead. We were also made to dance with all the old people there, which was very funny, but slightly embarrassing the following day when the guy who works at the hostel told us he's seen us strutting our funky stuff. I think if we’d had a better grasp of the language we could've stayed longer but after 3 dances, 2 ciders and one for the road we made our excuses and left. A nice experience and one that made me feel pleasantly sleepy for the rest of the day.
Hugs,
Jen XXX
