Trujillo, Chiclayo and Chachapoyas

The citadel at Kuelap.

This is inside the ruins, you can see nature taking its course.

Trujillo: Cuyes Revenge
Four small, tight, white walls closing in on a desperate man.  Cold sweats, warm weather, a raging fever.  A bowl the center of the world, reminding me of a fly's sole existence. That was my experience.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.

I made the foolhardy choice of experiencing "petricide"¨, deciding to eat Cuy (aka Guinea Pig) and chalking it up as cultural experimentation.  Bad decision.  A week later the little rodent was still spinning circles in my intestines.

But, the first two days I'm not likely to forget soon.   So, instead of lounging by the beach, pretending debate about whether to rent surfboards or go ruin seeing, but really just sitting on the beach for a few days, I spent my time in the bathroom, ravaged by a cute, furry little pet.  Lesson learned.  No more cuy eating for me.

Chiclayo: T-shirt Bazaar
Almost bought a "Bitchin' Camaro" t-shirt here.  Thought that pretty much defined me, but decided that it was a bit too anglacized.

Went to a ruin site.  It was a series of hills in a dry forest.  I'm not sure if the dry forest or the hills-as-ruins was more dissapointing.  One was barely forested and the other looked like sand castles after a thunderstorm.  I never realized "ruin" was a euphemism for "excuse for a tourist trap".  By the way, the locals had the audacity to call the site pyramids.  We thought we were going to find South Americas version of Giza.  Instead we found something I could have made at the age of five with enough time and plastic buckets.

The 15 t-shirt stalls welcoming us everytime we entered or departed our hostel was more exciting by tenfold.  Bitchin' t-shirt bazaar.

Chachapoyas: Stoned in the 16th Century
Finally, a worthwhile stop.  An undiscovered gem.  Just two and a half hours outside of this quaint hideaway is an undervisited contemporaneous Incan site.  Machu Picchu may be the main draw of Peru, but this is the Wrigley field to old Yankee stadium.  A little known site by the name of Kuelap and even more importantly a lesser developed (or rather less restored) site with regards to restoration, people and tourist infastructure.  This lends itself to the traveler's delight, authenticity.

The main draw, however, is the ideal amount of restoration.  As you approach the monolith, a domineering wall surrounding the citadel, there is a sense of permanence eminating from its sheer presence.  I've never seen an ancient castle, but I'd imagine it would inspire similar feelings.  The difference is that this structure is built into the mountain.  Not exactly in disguise, but in conjunction with its further surroundings.  You truly don't notice it, even though it is enormous until you are within a mile, or so.  The large yellowish rocks are surrounded by tropical vegetation and like-shaded mountains in the distance, helping to give it the blending-in sensation are the little plants growing out of the walls, in part surely due to nature reclaiming its territory after the Incans and Spaniards robbed and, quite likely, destroyed the creating civilization.

The selling point is the outter layer, but for me the mystery lies inside.  As the site is underexposed to tourist and archaeologist alike, large swaths of the innards are still left in disrepair.  Plants, trees, bromeliads meld perfectly with the quarter remains of huts and dwellings.  It's the quitessential romantics version of a lost city.  I'm shocked that Indian Jones has not been filmed here, or at the very least that miserable TNT movie starring Noah Wyle as a librarian.  But, I'm also glad as Beth and I had to share our day with at most ten other gringos (3 of whom we shared a taxi with) and a few Peruvians.  Our own minature Machu Picchu, smaller, less extravagant, less mysterious, but a more authentic feel, a wildness that even Indian Jones might appreciate--if there was treasure, of course.

After we returned to town with hopes of catching the worlds highest waterfall the next morning before leaving.  That was to be a pipe dream as we allowed ourselvesan indulgent evening.  The three gringos in our car that day were peace corps volunteers.  After our ruinous day they invited us out to join them in drinks.  This was a revelation for me.  It was like a group of nuns inviting us to a sex party, we just couldn't pass up the opportunity.  We proceeded to spend the next six or so hours swapping stories, inventing drinks and enjoying the company of three good dudes in the peace corps who like themselves a good time, our kind of people.(1)

As the peace corps party caught up with us the next morning and time slowly ran out, we were forced to miss out on the worlds third highest discovered waterfall, Gocta.  But as they say, there ain't no party like a peace corps party.  There'll always be more falls though.

(1) I exclude names here because I thoroughly enjoyed one of the names of the invented drink.  A homemade corn liquor, overly sweet but with a nice bite, is poured into a shot then dropped into a half glass of beer and slugged.  The first suggested name: A Shining Path Bomb, the shining path being a terrorist group in Peru.  Created by one PC man, it was nixed by the other two, though received my vote.  The winner, Moto bomb, is acceptable, especially considering the dearth of moto taxis, aka tuk-tuks located in Peru.
             

Beth and a bag´o´bones, human bones.

The wall,
From afar.

A restored hut amongst all the destroyed huts.