Pisco, Peru

Again we docked at some ungodly hour and I was in the land of nod when the ship tied up. I arose however about 7.30am as I had booked a tour of some Incan ruins. I showered and got ready for the day's big adventure and soon breakfast and a most welcome flat white coffee arrived to my stateroom. I caught up on the previous day's emails and then headed to the bus that would take me on the 90 minute trip to the ruins. 

The landscape was desolate. You could enact a fake mars landing on the ground around me and no one would be any the wiser. I assumed that view would improve. It did so marginally but there was not much I could wax lyrical about. 

After about 30 minutes of marscape the scenery started to change to include the agricultural sector. Even though there was next to no water they were successfully growing asparagus, blueberries, mandarins, grapes, corn and other crops that I have now forgotten. The towns we passed through, of which Pisco was the most notable, were dreary to the point of appearing slum like. Most of the homes were unfinished. It turns out there is a reason for this, if you finish your home it is assessable for tax, but while it remains incomplete it doesn't incur any.  

We started to weave our ways into the hills where there was little of consequence to see. Our guide droned on speaking quickly with his thick Peruvian accent. He knew his stuff and he was proud of his country but I am not really that  interested in Peru's gross tonnage of blueberry exports in any given year so it was a little difficult to remain attentive. We finally arrived at the ruins and they were nothing short of spectacular. 

This was a significant outpost of the Incan world. It was a little freaky to see a finished excavation that was littered with tourist where there was clearly much more left to find. In the short walk I took above the ruins I picked up fragments of broken pottery, pieces of fabric and small lengths of rope. None of it had any evidence of colour or quality so both the grave robbers who predated the archaeologists and the archaeologists themselves had deemed these finds unworthy and not proceeded any further. 

We saw old bathhouses, schools for girls who would become the polyamorous wives of the rulers, putting the Mormons to shame but certainly giving them something to aspire to. There were barracks, slave quarters and communication houses where if a message needed to be passed along the chain of command there would be a squad of runners ready to relay the message to out post as far away as the more famous Machu Pichu. 

We were told that these communication houses were to be found every 10 kilometres and that they could get a message to the aforementioned Machu Pichu in 15 hours, which compares more than favourably with the alleged 17 hour drive it now incurs. These hubs also had sleeping quarters along with food drink. 

After two hours of expertly guided tutelage it was time to complete the ho hum return journey through the depressing towns and the desolate landscape. 

The only interesting thing of note was the bus crashing through a boom gate as we entered the port. The boom gate was a bent and twisted mess, the bus however didn't even seem to be scratched. I did a little shopping on the dock to ensure every suitcase is packed to the brim with souvenirs then headed for the pizza joint for a late lunch, followed by the bar. All in all an enjoyable and instructive day. We have fours days are on the high seas before we reach Easter Island. Still no news if we can get off or not. Fingers crossed.