Peru, thausend country in one or how to be in Paradise and turn into hell and vice-versa

At Desaguadero, the border litteraly cut in two the city; the contrast is striking: the Peruvian side is teeming with people everywhere and you find everything in the shops .... or almost. This is probably due to the fact that Bolivia and its extreme poverty, I was accustomed to find empty grocery stores and deserted streets. After having spent 2 hours under the blazing sun, I finally get my visa (I could have save all this time against the equivalent of 6 usd, officials would have help me to come in the front of everybody, in the front of the customs officers and they would have given my visa immediately; even with a beautiful smile).
This is the same people on both sides of the border, Aymara’s Indian, but a complete another world. People talk a lot with me and I will have to get use to it, they will shout to me all my peruvian way as: hey gringo! Sometimes, even often, it’s done in a sarcastic and aggressive way. Over time, I interprete this kind of hatred against gringo as envy. It’s an overpopulated country and there is a lot of injustice, corruption and poverty. In Peru, with Machu Pichu as highlight, there is a lot of tourists and often with a lot of Money. This, of course, give a certain image of the foreigners that they have and they imagine that all of them are rich as Bill Gates. It creates a sort of anemosite and a gap between people and tourists. Peruvians, and that again I will experience throughout my road, are very nationalistic. Some even develop this vice to become patriotic to the extreme, to not say fascist, swearing about Peru, for Peru, Peru and again Peru. But let leave these things aside because obviously, not all peruvians are bad people or racist, I will meet a lot of fantastic people (and fortunatelly).

The road is in better condition, but then, the traffic is more dense and without doubt, I give the first prize of the worse drivers to the Andean people, the most unconscious too. How many times, I will end up in a situation with 2 buses facing me, emerging from a bend in the mountains while the precipe of several

hundred meters are just my side along the road... In addition of that, they are completly “horn-addicts”. Almost every car honks me while passing; sometimes that I make space for them to pass by, sometimes to say hello or sometimes just because “look, ther is a gringo here” and …..honk. Over the time, I learn to read the different horn but I will listen more music to cover this irritating noise that often squares me more tan it’s help me. It’s put me in dangerous situations and I cannot hear the “gringo” anymore.

After a long and gentle ascent, I leave the Altiplano at 3,800 meters to reach the top of my actual highest pass, the Raya find itself at 4,300 meters. At the top, while exhausted by the lack of oxygen and the effort, a french tourist buse arrives. I hardly stopped that they kicked me out because they want take pictures. They don’t even look at me and talk to me in french. I remain speechless and decide not to answer (they probably didn’t thought I speak french too but honnestly, I don’t care at all), I push the bike a bit further and a peruvian comes and talks to me in a brutal way and imposible to understand any word. I’m ready to expose my anger at the top of the world just when I understand that the guy is a fool... That’s my luck, At 4300 meters, I have to meet with a madman. He starts laughing, me too, the altitude or the funny situation? Probably both, I relax a bit and begin a descent of 25 km. Midway, I stop in a wonderful termal bath, where they let me put my tent. At night, I find myself alone in the incredible place. I sit in the warm water, a beer in the hand, while watching at the stars. After a good day of cycling, close to the clouds at this altitude, this bath is surreal, I am the happiest man in the world.

I reach the bottom of the descent, I find myself at “only” 2,800 meters. Finally, I see trees, flowers, even birds; everything becomes green, life takes those rights again. Since the Chilean border, I haven’t ride "that low" and I can finally breath again, there is more oxygen. A strange feeling and give me the sensation to be a bit drunk. I paddle kilometers and kilometers without forcing and in no time, I find myself in Cusco. I met one of my best friends Herve, his girlfriend Yolanda and independently, Eric, who travels by motorcycle. I met ihm more than a year ago in Florianopolis, Brazil. Cusco is definitely the mots festive travellers’s city that I met in South America until now. It’s probably better if I keep for myself the souvenirs of the crazy unending nights that I spent to the sunrises. Beautiful and crazy times. 

On the other hand, and especially because due of a lack of education and their very hard life, I will face unprecedented harshness against me too. Arriving near Shivay,  "just" 35 km from the  tar road and a kind of civilization, I got whiped by a group of villagers with oranges (oranges fixed to a rope). Especially the Indian ladies enjoy it with all their power. For information, the Indian “mamas” weight easily the double of a well built man). Why? This is carnival and for them, the way to have fun... I keep almost bruises on my backof after this meeting. Because it’s always carnival, I lost the counts of the times they throw me buckets of cool water in the face, launching from the tops of the trucks. After the bucket of water, it’s shampoo or shaving cream ... Great, nothing better than to receive a cold bath and shampoo while fully clothed and cycling at more than 4’000 meters, close to the snow. To struggle against the elements was not enough… Thinking about it now i a good souvenir, but if you would have talk to me during this time, it would have be another story. I regret the carnival of Rio de Janeiro and Salvador de Baia, in Brazil; heat, cold beer, ocean, samba and mini swimsuit; this is definively another world in here and I’m far of the brazilian cliché of paradise.

Along the way, I also had the chance to visit several Inca sites, deserted and free entrance, completly new sites. There are thousands of sites in Peru and most of them are not completly discovered. I didn’t talk much about it, but obviously the Peruvian culture and its glorious history are a must in here; with the famous past of the Inca, Aymara or other pre-Columbian cultures. A great heritage but for me, I realize than my center of interests are definitively the people, fauna and flora. The past is past and I prefer to live in present. Even if I have a great respect for the Peruvian ruins who are fantastic, I would record the beauty of its heritage on the second place on the place I visited in my life, just after the ruins of Angkor Wat in Cambodia.

In Arequipa, I let the bike a while and spend some great time with Claire. We enjoy Peru in a different way,  watch the condors in the Colca Canyon, visit Arquipa and a bit the fabulous beach of the south. I am so happy to finally leave the Andes and the Altiplano and I’m excited to cross another desert: the Peruvian coast is a huge desert, the 9th I cross. It will not rain and I finally find myself alone. Although I love meeting people; having to always tell the same stories (where I come from, or where I'm going, how much is my bike, etc. ..) becomes tiring. It is especially difficult to camp, or imposible and dangerous where there is too much people. Peru is unfamous for the high crime rate. Unlike Brazil, Argentina or Chile, where I like to sleep with the firefighters, police or petrol stations, here I prefere find a spot away of everything or buying for a cheap hostel. In the desert, I spend the luxury to sleep under the stars, sleeping on my piece of plastic and in my sleeping bag. Before dawn, sometimes I use my plastic cover to protect me against the moisture who filed a thin wet layer. I'm now too lazy to set up my tent, or maybe it’s just my idea of comfort who has changed; over the time, I don’t see the point to set up a camp just for a night. I love watching the stars from my sleeping bag and to be able to see if I open my eyes at night and feel the wind on my face. It lulls me, as would do a sweet music for a newborn.

Arriving on the coast, 27 km downhill but this time I will not descend further below: Of course, I find myself facing the sea and I’m now far away from the high plateau and the eternal 4,000 meters. I paddle without forcing but reach a insane speed. So much time climbing mountain and passes with my overloaded bicycle and that, at this altitude, gave me a physical condition of a champion. Along the coast, people are more civilized than in the Andes, more educated and the food is excellent. A few times, people invite me to eat or to drink beer. These beers are so enjoyable especially because it’s so hot in here but they considerably slow me down…

In Nasca, I will meet my sister with Martin. She traveled for about a year in South America and, after Santiago de Chile and La Paz, I have the chance to meet her before she takes the way back to Europe. It makes me very happy to enjoy this time with her and to be able to share our experiences of our travels. On the way, I look to the famous and mysterious Nasca’s drawings  (http://www.skepdic.com/nazca.html) that we can see on the roadside from a plateform (two of them). I find my sister a last time in Huacachina, an oasis closet o Ica and find myself alone again. I ride 4 km untill Ica and a writer-traveller invites me to spend the night in his flat. I just leave but since I’m not in a hurry, I think why not and will enjoy a nice day and evening with ihm. We exchange ideas and travel stories and in the morning, I give 2 interviews for the local TV before hiting the tar road again.

The unfamous Pan American carry well its dirty reputation; it’s narrow and by places without security borders for me to drive safely and the traffic is really crazy. Buses overtake me often with just a few centimeters  and trucks, who always are very careful and usually good drivers, often make me swing from a side to the other, just because of the aspiration of the vehicule or when they come from the opposite direction. To speak a bit about the traffic, the worst vehicule are by far and undoubtly the collectivos: they are minibuses that stop along the roadside to pick up or drop passengers, often young and inexperienced drivers. They have each time the talent to always stop just before me, forcing me to brake as hard as I can. After the wildlife of Africa, I learned not to shut up and make sure they know my opinions about their driving. I know that it not will help them to drive better but I really feel better after having sharing my mind. To close the chapter “colectivos”, it happened me a good story: later on, before to reach Trujillo, a colectivo cut me the way like they know to do so well. I overtake him on the left and tell ihm he’s crazy because I hardly crashed against him this time but he don’t react and don’t find better to do that to give speed and overtake me from the right on the safety side of the road. The truck behind me overtake me (and I will never say enough how truck-drivers are my true road-companions) and he decide to avenge me: He overtake the colectivo and cut his road as bad as the colectivo did to me. To avoid him, because Mr Collectivo accelerate as fast as he slows dow, will end up in the side of the road, down the slope... Nobody will be hurt and the passengers burst out laughing. The driver, not that much and don’t even look at me when I pass ihm with a big smile on my face. I wonder how long it tooks him to get out of there. The truck-driver stops a little further for me and it gives me the opportunity to thank him and shake his hand... While I slowly arrive closer to Lima, the traffic is increasing like crazy. Lima is spreading over more than 60 km. No more camp, there is always more people and more and more, I feel poverty all around me. Everybody warn me about the other, there are apparently a lot of dangerous people in here and I believe it witout any doubts while cycling through some of these small slums. But nothing happen to me, at least not the way I was thinking it. I spend 2 months in Lima and would be robbed for the first time. Not a violent robery with a knife attack like everyone warned me. Almost 5 years of travel and the first time I got robbed, it comes from a so-called friend who betrayed my trust (and of his other friends too). In life and all around the world, the dangers always come from (and especially) where we don’t expect it. I could have been at home and it would have happen too. But except this swindler, I meet people who will be forever in my heart: Wendy, his brother David, Martin who create my new site www.hervepuravida.com and many others; like Iris, Andres, Armando, Jacqueline, Mauricio and sorry because I forget so much more. During this time, I can recover some very necessary psychological strength because sometimes to travel all the time without having a house or a refuge could be hard. I will be able to give my energy into my new website (with Martin that I will never thank thank enough for his great work), the preparation of my bicycle-boat Project  through Amazon and I even get realy nice times like the visit of Ayacucho during the holy week, watching the release of the bulls in the streets and later on, to find myself in an arena with David and Martin, against a bull. A first for me, a bullfight without killing and "just" for the fun to be destroy from a giant bull (actually, I avoid him, Martin was lucky but face the death a while). Taking the road is difficult, leaving the people I love, the comfort, the easy life, my routine but the call of the road is stronger and I'm like a child opening his Christmas gift when I found myself the first day on the road. Apart from the fact that I'm always on this damned Panamericana Highway, with all the traffic and pollution involved, I do my way happily until Trujillo. Once again, I enjoy the nights under the stars and especially the luxury of not having to cook here in Peru. The food is delicious (on the coast) and very cheap: so I buy take-away food, travel further and find myself a little place between the dunes where I will sleep. People in the north are much sharper and don’t honk me that much, but encourage me and sometimes even stop to talk to me. The more I cycle north, the less I feel bad vibrations. The more I get away from Lima, the more I leave the winter too and found the sun and heat. I'd be a fool not to admit that sometime when they horn me, it’s flatting my ego and encourage me. The often rise the thumb or smile to me, it’s sometimes a real motivation and a bonus for me.

The bad news of the momento is the uprising of the Indians in the Amazon, which declare an open war against the government. A total of twenty policemen were killed. On the side of the Indian are many missing people, some dead but no official statistic of course and apparently the governement tend to minimize the indian’s lost. The government allows exploitation of the forest but the Indians refuse at all costs (and I think they have good reason). They want to protect their ancestor’s land and protect the primary forest. The government, easily influenced by gifts and money from big mining and oil companies, finally accepted, after the riots and the  insurections of all peruvian indigenous people, to suspend the new law. Fortunately for me because the hotest place was along the Rio Napo where I’m suppose to sail in a few times.

Just before arriving in Trujillo, I finally meet 3 cyclists in the opposite direction and arrived in Lucho’s home, his world famous Casa de Ciclisa (http://www.geocities.com/casadeciclistasperutrujillo/), where I met 7 other cyclists! There is 3 french in here, Vincent, Jean and Mateo, 3 brazilian, Valdo and 2 brothers, Fabio and Oldy. There is also the american Ariel, girlfriend of Oldy. In one day, I meet more than twice of the cyclists I encounter in more than a year of cycling in South America! Lucho is a cyclist of race bicycle and each year he prepare a race in Trujillo. It’s exactly now... Between the travellers, nobody really want to participate and I still don’t know how, I find myself with a number in the back, a race bicycle, bicycle shoes with click and a helmet, ready for the competition. Absolutely everything is new to me. I never drive a race bicycle or do any competitions. For the first stage, on the front line, Lucho helps me in the front of everyone to fix my shoes on the bike... Everybody expect the worst with me and honnestly me too because I kind of party hard and I don’t really have the face of a champion this day… The second stage, in the Plaza de Armas of Trujillo (the second largest city of Peru) I will put the fire to the race and during the 100 laps, I will head the front of the peloton most than the half of it (of course, after having lost 2 laps before starting to understand the race’s tactics). No worry for me, everyone thought I was the first and especially because of the microphone Lucho doesnt’ stop to shot that the " loco suizo con el casquo rooooojo" is first, the crazy swiss guy with the red helmet. The crowd aplaude me as I would be Lance Amstrong and I especially enjoy the motivations words from the feminin crowd. Thanks all the women shouting my name (el loco suizo), I found another breathe and motivation.... It’s a pity that it is not always like that when I ride on the world’s roads. Before I finish 6th (5th on the accumulate classement) I abandon the last race on Sunday before I plan to leave the next day with some cyclists from the casa de ciclista. Maybe I should say that we were only 11 cyclists, but the important is to participate, not to win, right?

I feel tired to always be called gringo in the street while traveling but riding in a convoy with 3 other “white and blond” cyclist, I will learn that it could have been much worse. 4 bikes are obviously not discret but even when I walk in the streets with Mateo, who is blond, I think how lucky I’m with my Brown hair and dark bore. After we all leave together Trujillo, a police car will join us for our safety for a bit over than twenty kilometers in a “dangerous” city and in the desert. Several cyclists were robbed on this route but according Lucho, the police would be involved in this robberies… Peru, a country where it’s never boring and always surprising…

We cycle 3 days tgether before all of us take an opposite direction. In a way, it’s hard to get use to the other one. Everybody get a different rythmus, a different way to see the things, to travel. But I really enjoy this time, it was great to share those moments together and it’s incredible the motivation you get when you are a group of cyclist. Especially when it was such good people like Mateo, the caballito blanco (his nickname the white horse), Sven and Doro. I keep great souvenirs with all of them. With Matea, we spend 2 nights sleeping in another casa de ciclista in Chiclayo. This way different that the warm Lucho’s place; it’s a motel or better said, a bordel. At each time of day and night couples, mostly illegal, arrive by taxi directly into a small box that give to a room. In fact, it’s often the driver of the taxi himself who arrives with a woman.

After having study all the perversity of the human nature from the window, I begin a last strech of a bit more than 200 km of pure desert. The last time I will feel the calmness of the desert, just me and my bicycle. But in the same time, I look forward to reach the coast and the beautiful beaches of the north. I know that after, I will reach Ecuador and everything will change: tropical, green, finally! But not yet…

In Mancora, I celebrate my 31st birthday and meet again a cyclist. It’s an American and left for 2 years home, cycle few  but fast and works for humanitarian association. I often meet Young people involve in the humanitarian business as arrogant (well, it’s a personal opinion, I’m probably wrong with most of them). Well, he won’t be arrogant for long but will take me in a crazy story with him… The evening, we celebrat together my birthday and finish in a small beach bar the night. When they close and when it’s time to go sleep, the police come and check us. I don’t worry but suddently they found cocaine in the pocket of the american. We both got arrested and I find myself in no time in th police car. I got crazy with them and explain them cleary that I’ve nothing to do with them, that anyway they don’t find anyting on me and that I’m not even traveling with ihm. Well I even start to have fun when I start to understand that they even start to fear me… The american pay them USD 100 and they give him back his cocaine! They know how corrupted they are and even offer me to pay me a beer (with the Money of the american guy). I refuse and laugh to find myself in such a situation for my 31st birthday. The american don’t laugh, feel very ashame and can’t look at me in the eyes. He will consume his drug in the front of the police and will disappear. I will never hear from him anymore. Peru continue to surprise me, in a good way and in bad way. Me, the next day, I leave the town with a nice headache, it’s remind me that I have to drink good quality rhum, especially now I’m getting older...

More I ride more it’s become green. I’m finally leaving the desert slowly. I am closer to the border and find more and more cities and people. As elsewhere in Peru, my ego is always flatted when I cross the cities. Women do not fail to always give me nice compliments, sometimes really exagerated. 2 times, I was even followed by a motorcycle taxi with some lady fan on board. I would never say it enough; it’s a hard life to cycle and everyday you need to find the will to continue…

A week before the border, I get the confirmation that I have been effectively been betrayed by this so-called-friend. He dissapeared more than 2 weeks now and I know that my Money is definitevely gone. Fort the second time in my journey, I find myself without any penny left in my pocket. In a way, I’m glad I’m cycling at this moment because the physical effort help me to discharge my anger and frustration. On the other hand, it’s difficult to talk to strangers or to trust anyone when something like that happen. But again, what more best school of life than this? I always try to remain positive, that’s my life philosophy and probably my karma. A friend (a real one) asked me how I could have done that, me, a world traveller? I told him that if he needs help a day, what should I do? Do not help him? In life, we must take risks and trust our friends, otherwise life wouldn’t have taste and a life without friend is not a life. We need to give our confidence to close people. Of course, I will be more carefull now but honnestly, that can happen to anybody, anywhere at anytime. Of course, if I meet this guy, I wouldn’t show much love but in my buddhist philosophy, I believe that everybody pays for his mistake, so I wish him good luck for the rest of his life. Now I have to face a difficult time. I’m in a foreign country, on my bicycle, without Money. I need to focus on how to make money and very quickly. There is never problems in life, only solutions. One more time, I’ve to pratice what I consider to be my life’s philosophy. Hard times to come, new challenges…

But I’m not finish with the Peru, I need to pass the border with my 2 months and 5 days expired visa. Instead of paying the normal fee and to complete the long and unecessary peruvian paperwork, I slip 60 usd in my passport. The custom officer give me a smile (that I honnestly didn’t really need because I see my last money flying in his corrupted hands) and give me instantly my exit stamp, with the confirmation that I effectively paid the bill for my extend stay. I economised 20-30 USD and a lot of time waiting to the bank or at the border (officially, the renew the visa for a month cost USD 23-24 but in Lima, I met a stupid official who refused any renewal of my visa)

Peru, what to think after all those stories? I discovered everything, from a lush jungle, a very dry desert like would be the Sahara and snowy mountains in the mystical Andes. The ruins were fabulous and sublime. I met people who will keep a place in my heart all my life long and others that I would make a duty to forget as soon as possible. Peru or how to go from hell to heaven, and vice-versa... It's really a world apart and I don’t have any regrets, just positive memories, thanks those wonderful people and amazing landscapes. Via the Amazon, I will be back in this country full of contrasts. Life goes on, as my journey and the road in the front of me call me: an another country to come, Ecuador.