History
-
Sex And Empanadas: Farewell To The Sacred Valley
Mystique surrounds our village of Ollantaytambo. We wake each morning to the sound of rushing water and the sight of the Inca terraces looking down from the towering mountain, the early morning sun creeps over the summits and, although we can’t see it, we know that just a short distance away the sundial obelisk erected by the Incas centuries ago is still announcing the dawn of another day just as it did back then. Ollantaytambo stirs. Guides for those on the Inca Trail pack up their tents on the green next to the ancient Punku Punku gateway ready for the next leg; cafe owners clean the dust from windows; souvenir…
-
In The Land Of The Incas: The Secrets Of The Sacred Valley
There’s no way we want to rush through El Valle Sagrada, the Sacred Valley, in the way that many seem to do. Some call in briefly if opting for the bus/train combo rather than the full length train journey in order to speed up the journey to Machu Picchu, and, much worse, it’s even possible to do a one-day excursion from Cusco which, given the distances and the number of sites involved, must be both a long day and a rushed agenda. Rather than either of these, we decide that after first embracing Machu Picchu we will take a few days to explore this magnificent valley which was the spiritual…
-
And So To Machu Picchu
I always think there’s something supremely auspicious about train travel, especially pulling out of or in to a great city, it just feels so momentous. This is particularly true today as the Peru Rail train hauls slowly up the steep inclines out of Cusco, headed for one of the World’s most spectacular rail journeys through the Sacred Valley to Machu Picchu, a wonder of the modern world. And all this on a significant birthday for Michaela, too. It takes a full half hour for the train to be free of Cusco, the rail track repeatedly switchbacking as it climbs its way up and over the mountains surrounding the city. Once…
-
The Wonderful City Of Cusco
Sometime during 1993 the Peruvian Government took it upon themselves to draw up a national constitution. Within this document was a declaration that the city of Cusco should be officially recognised as Peru’s Historic And Cultural Capital, so providing this lovely city with an accolade to match its indisputable and enduring appeal. In truth, it really is a lovely city, especially the narrow cobbled streets which gravitate on steep hills away from Cusco’s beating heart, the bustling Plaza de Armas. The cathedral, dedicated to the Virgin of the Assumption and the almost as large Iglesia de la Compañia de Jesus dominate the two sides of the square which aren’t taken…
-
Journey To One Of The World’s Greatest Mysteries: Lima-Paracas-Nasca
The word “luxury” is often applied to buses in the same way as the word “boutique” is applied to hotels: at best meaningless and at worst downright untrue. Not so with the bus company Cruz del Sur whose genuinely luxurious seats and smooth ride bring us in real comfort from Lima to the small coastal town of Paracas, over three hours south and only for a modest fare. Paracas is a quirky little town, a weekend getaway for city dwellers and a stopping point for tour operators, meaning that for a small place it has a disproportionate number of seafront restaurants which are either rammed full or begging for business…
-
Moving South: Guinobatan And Its Mighty Neighbour
Accommodation in the two mountain towns has been a little on the rustic side, without AC and with no storage facility for clothing. Living out of the backpacks for a week in that level of humidity has left everything feeling damp: our clothes, our toiletries, even the bags themselves are wet to the touch. Back for one night in Baguio as we start the journey south, it’s a big relief to be in a dry environment with cool AC and a hot shower, but there’s definitely going to be a need for a laundry session soon. Nothing feels clean and fresh now……but then travelling through humid climates ever was thus….…
-
Sagada: Hanging Coffins, Lemon Pie And The Paytokan Trail
Sagada, say the travel websites, is not an easy place to get to, but is without doubt worth the effort. Let’s deal with the first half of that sentence: it’s a ridiculously long drive to this remote location no matter where you start from. Look at the basic mathematics: a drive of just 143 kilometres (89 miles) takes 6 hours – yep, SIX HOURS ! – so it’s pretty obvious that this is no ordinary journey. There is, of course, no highway, the whole route is a narrow, twisting mountain road of steep inclines, dramatic descents and tight hairpin bends. Add to that trucks struggling up the mountains, long trails…
-
Northwards To The Heritage City Of Vigan
A bit of geographical perspective first. The Philippines is made up of no less than 7,641 islands, about 2,000 of which are inhabited. The island of Luzon, where we have started our Philippines tour, is home to both the capital city Manila and just over half of the population of the country as a whole. Luzon is the Philippines’ largest island, roughly half the size of Great Britain. From Manila we have headed to the north of Luzon, to the region of Ilocos Sur, bound for the town of Vigan. The short domestic flight lands at Laoag, from where it’s just under two hours by road to our instantly appealing…
-
Retracing Our Steps: Different Sides Of Bodrum
One last morning cappuccino in the Greek island sun, one last tickle of the friendly cat with the pretty face, one last pastry from the savoury counter, and it’s time to pack the bags and wander round to the ferry point. With impeccable timing, Meltemi has taken a rest day and the Aegean is benign and flat as well as its usual spectacular blue. When we looked out on our first morning on Kalymnos, preparations for some sort of ceremony were underway, one which lasted through the Sunday morning and featured the army, a naval captain, a marching band and what appeared to be most of the island’s dignitaries. The…
-
Kalymnos: Diving For Sponge And The Joy Of Meze
Skevos is clearly pleased to see us or, more accurately, pleased to see someone, anyone, because being a museum curator out of season can be a lonely job. He has a face which carries a natural smile which is completely disarming in its sincerity. His full head of cascading white hair is long enough to sit neatly on the shoulders of his zipper jacket, nestling on the collar in the style of a rock band lead singer still strutting his stuff in the bars of Pothia. But he’s not here to sing, he’s here to tell us about sponge diving. Sponge diving museum He does so in articulate English and…
