March 7, 2010
Breakfast. I am not feeling good, my stomach is “not right” and, well, I have diarrhea. Drat. Luckily they make pills for this. Guess it wasn’t nerves yesterday. I also guess it was the food in the danky dining place in Cajamarca (?!?)
I know I need to east something becauase I have a big ride head of me. I am actually happy for soup for breakfast.
I think they call these “moto-transporte“. This one pulls up at the restaurant where I am chatting with Hernando and Isabella. We all take pics of it.
Connfidence inspired by my hotel.
(Translation: Secure Zone in case of Earthquakes”)
Well it’s time to say goodbye to my new friends…we’ve spend several hours together and they have given me their COMPLETE brain dump. Isabella, you see, is an archaelogist, and she knows ALL the best places in Peru to visit.
They leave before me, Northbound, leisurely home to Colombia. I have to stay behind until, er, my stomach settles and the pills start to work.
OK, I finally get om the road at about 11:30 am. Wow. That’s late. Guess I’ll e 8 days behind on my “plan” to get to Ushuaia now. Ugh.
Well here’s another first…
I get to Trujillo and the coast, and the Panamericana is, well, desert. It’s hot. I feel weak. Gutted. There’s a fierce wind, surpassed only by the roar of the buses and trucks as they roar towards their destinations North or South, frankly giving very little damn whether you are in their way or not. It’s unsettling and I feel I should really be at my best when dealing with this traffic.
I sight the Pacific Ocean again, and am barely pleased. My guys are still in turmoil, it’s about 926 degrees, and now there’s blowing sand. I decide to skip seeing the oastal cruins at Chan Chan. Too bad.
Yup. This pretty much sums up traffiic here. People pass, using YOUR lane, and beep for YOU to pay attention.
I’m beat. And I have only been riding for maybe two hours. I stop at this service station, and get a Gatorade. Then another. This perks me up a bit.
As I am chatting with the shop keeper (he has, like so many other Peruvians, asked me what I think of his country, and I am not entirely truthful because I don’t want to hurt or insult him). The honest truth is that I don’t really care for Peru. I know everyone has their own experience here, and I know I am sick so that would temper my judgment, but I don’t find there people overwhelmingly friendly (perhaps that are on pure-survival-mode), and while I have met a few individuals that are really nice, for me, the feeling in the air is just not a pleasant one. Sure, the scenery is among the best so far (except along the coast).
I plan to see what I have to see, ride some great roads, and get out.
So we are chatting instead about the trash problem in Peru, as this fellow goes by. I think this guy should call George in Honduras.
I use the bathroom,
and ride on.
Now there’s even blowing sand. Great!
I cannot ride any more and I stop in the UN charming town of Viru at about 3:00. My hotel is 25 soles, which i find quite expensive for what it is, but I don’ t have the energy to look around for a better place. I park the bike inside their restaurant, and feel so badly I don’t even take pictures!