Finally made it to cusco 3 flights later. I already miss Rapa Nui.
Our 1 and only night in Santiago was a bit of a shitter, having arrived at 2pm, I was faced with a queue to pay for my Chilean visa which was US 56 dollars. David had struck a conversation with some New Zealanders on the plane and had agreed to share a taxi with them as well as spend the night at the same accomodation. Because I had to pay for the visa, they headed out first and agreed to meet us at the baggage claim area, but by the time I´d paid for the visa, the immigration line had increased 3 fold. It took us a solid hour before we arrived to be greeted by a bunch of supposedly official taxi monkeys who liked to have their hands planted on our luggage. David is determined to find his new found friends, only to be discouraged later by the fact that we were the only ones left in the Arrival area, and there were what appeared to be a growing number of ´official´ taxi drivers. At this time we decided our friends had left and decided on Gustavo, a friendly chap who had been following us all around the airport since we stepped out of customs. I´m once again mistaken for a Japanese tourist and am ready to beat the living crap out of this guy, but fortunately I remember that I´m no longer in my own country. We decided to go to David´s choice of the hour hostel which was agreed with the NZ´ders, the more than upmarket San Patricia. I notice that Gustavo has a funny knack of of talking with both hands whilst driving at a consistent speed of 80km/h where on 2 occasions David was taking control of the wheel.
We meet Janice, a Korean traveller on her way out who agrees to help us settle into the new place and take us to the supermarket. The street we're in looks like graffiti riddled with walls around it. Janice believes its the safest city she's been in South American, I'm under the impression that Janice has never left the hostal after 5pm, ever. We also meet Donkunnan, a 68 year old German man who's cruising the world on his BMW tourer, having just shipped his motorcycle over from New Zealand, he's heading to the atacama after this from the looks of it. David becomes orgasmic once the German mentions his motorcycle (Sorry sis, I think David's fallen in love with Donkunnan). The camels back was almost broken for me until I settle down to sleep in our shitter of a room, and Texas Walker comes on tv, in spanish no less, which as you all well know, would make any grown man happy.
On to Easter Island. It's the best. Screw other pacific islands (although I've never been to any), this is the place you want to go. Everybody's friendly as all hell and the people there are fucking charming. They love their place, they love tourists, they don't care or need to for that matter about a goddam thing. Our host, Oscar of 'Chez Oscar' (highly recommended) looks like someone from a textbook Hawaii TV show, kind, genuine, but according Dave, a little effeminite, which I didn't notice. This however, is made clear by some English backpackers that David once again makes friends with, who having gotten lost on the island (something which you must be on drugs to do), met a Chilean born local who gave them the local tour and the low down on everything. This includes the fact that all Rapa Nui'n first borns irrespective of sex, are treated like a girl. Someone to watch over the family and take on matron things like kitchen and house duties (ladies, take a leaf out of this book). They're even dressed like girls, taught to act like one and are taught all duties, which becomes quite obvious after 4 days living in and around Oscar. Mind you, he's a fucken fantastic host.
On the island, we spend 2 days with Nadja, a vibrant, enthusiastic girl imbued with vitality, who just so happens to be quite the looker as well. Having taken a photo for her on her horse (the place is riddled with wild horses), she invites us to watch a traditional dance that night. After the dance, we go and have a few drinks at which point we find out she's 1 of a set of 3, all pretty much of equal proportions. Those who know me well, know that I've always wanted an enemy, some guy who despises me with a passion, but to this day, and being monotheistic, I didn't think 'the man' himself would have it in for me. The sadness, it continues. I walk her home at 3 am and David, attempting to be a consumate wingman decides he'll go back to Chez Oscar. After a sweet goodbye, she gives me her number to contact her, so we can catch up at some point on the island the next day, and walking home a good coupla km's away I feel the beauty of Rapa Nui at 3:30 in the morning. It's existence based solely on 3 volcanoes meeting up and some crazy islanders deciding to chance stellar navigation some 3700km away from anywhere. I get back to Chez Oscar to find the mystery of Rapa Nui has fallen on David, a 44 year old School teacher of 20 plus years, with a wife, and one and half kids waiting for me in the bushes because he hasn't figured out how to unlock the door. Fucken what?
The next day we wake up late and hire a motorcycle. David commands the dirt bike like a master, with me on the back we scoot. Nadja was due to pick her bike up at 9:30am and having picked ours up at 10:30am, I resolved that it was pointless to try and catch up, and plus, the day was bloody perfect, and so we decided to ditch the helmets and head on to see the MAOI (mao-eye = heads, some with, some without hats). We're in luck, Nadja appears to have only just woken up and picked her bike up, and we cross her on the main street. So we decide to head out together, and since she's taken the tour before, she's giving us the second hand tour. It works well, and the heads are a sight, and seeing as there was a handful short of a thousand heads all together, admittedly, by the end of it, we're all headed out. People, if you come to this island, be prepared to be impressed by the heads, for a good half an hour, flora and fauna reminds me much of Adelaide, it's dry, arid, and also has eucalyptus trees. The atmosphere is what's left, I still have a number of countries to visit left, but it's really going to be hard to top this one.
We rode for 8 hours, and cover pretty much half the island, but it's only 20 minutes in that we realise that Nadja is under the belief that she is a motocross champion. She's requesting photo after photo, after video, after photo of her zooming at 100km/hr down some corner, with ocean in the background. Not only that, she's setting most of the shots up as well. She's good value though, and it was a shame she had to head back to where ever it was she came from. We return to the capital, Hanga Roa and send her off, and she writes her Danish details down and it appears that the number she gave the night before was missing a 0. The funny thing about all this is that I cannot for the life of me remember what I did to piss 'the man' off, but he's definitely working a hard case on me. As we settle in some diner for dinner that night, I notice two guys walking by, obviously not native to the island, with white short sleeve t-shirts, black pants and a smart tie to boot. The satchel around their shoulders is all too familiar to me, and I couldn't help but laugh at the idea that maybe these mormons rode their bikes over sea, with Jonno's help, using stellar navigation to make it from, say tahiti some 4000km away. Furthermore, how do you convince the natives who are still trying to work out how their ancestors shifted 70 metric tonnes from stone quarries to some location 10 km's away, that some guy who dug up some gold tablets whilst high on some heavy reefer that he's got the answers for them?
Once again I'm mistaken for a Japanese tourist, but I like these guys too much to get angry, I just can't wait until I get to Japan where I can pretend to be a Japanese Tourist. On the next day, it appears that Nadja has taken the weather with her, it's pissing down and we spend 2 hours in a cafe hiding from the rain. We make friends with Maria, Jazz, and Maria's husband Ognion who's swearing like a trooper about how awful the weather is on their first day on the island. Once the rain clears up, we spend the rest of the day with them wondering around the other half of the island we hadn't discovered yet, and as we return for the evening, we decide it's time. It would appear that David and myself are the only people who have visited the island, who have seen the Kevin Reynold directed, Kevin Kostner produced and Jason Scott Lee Starred blockbuster 'Rapa Nui'. I believe it's the only place in the world that shows it on a big screen, and in 3 different languages. It's a must for all visitors, and if ever you're after the islander cinematic experience, then this is it. Mind you I can't remember half of it, but by the end of it, it hasn't put the island in such a good light. You see, it's about the battle between the long ears, and the short ears, and in the end it appears that the short ears are the victors, but it also appears that the short ears become a bunch of cannibals as well. So I posed the question, are these kind folks decendants of the cannibals? Thankfully, I look much more emaciated than David, and my rare skin disease means that the results of eating me is quite unpredictable. I made a point of this with one of the islanders, and decide it's time to lose more weight, just so I'm last to go, and they take some of the fat Americans that seem to be streaming in.
We've been in Cusco for 3 days now, with the first spent sleeping and suffering from altitude and jet lag. Rapa Nui->Santiago, Santiago->Lima, 1:00am ->5:40am in Lima Airport, and then Lima-> Cusco. It's quite something, and I'm sure running out of words, that and many of you I know will make it here. It's worth the trip. The people here are cool, and the streets are riddled with tourists, so I don't know whether that's good or bad, but my spanish is improving two-fold. Having a relaxing banana milkshake at the local's market, which I recommend because there was only a handful of tourists around, I'm accosted by the girl making the juice, her mother and her sister with rather imposing questions such as my name, age, employment and marital status. It's all in good jest until I realise that she's asking for her daughter, the milkshake maker. Then I'm asked about how my quechuan is, to which I reply Allianchu. So good ole mom decides she'll teach me some new words like, Goodbye, please, and finally "I want a cusco girl", which I'm not told the meaning of until the laughing had died down 3 stalls on either side. They're friendly folks here, well those that aren't trying to tear your arse out, but I think I'll give the Saturday night disco with the locals a miss, as well as the private guided tour of Saqusahuaman (pronounced, Sexy Woman).
Tomorrow, we check out the Sacred Valley, and then on to some half-arsed fortress called Macchu Picchu. All the tourists seem to think it's the shit, I'm resolved to return to Rapa Nui.
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