Tilly Pitts Nasca Nightmare.

So after the news that 3 British tourists had died in a crash at the nasca Lines, the fact that we were travelling there one week later was never going to be great news for family back home.
Although it is strange that 3 British people dieing makes front page news in the UK but the 3 Peruvians that died in the same flight only made page 32 of the Sunday newspaper here.
So we got down to Ica where we were staying (see the previous blog) and we had an amazing day relaxing in the sun by the pool and then heading back to the beautiful oasis of Huacachina for drinks and food. After the Peruvian Police's attempts to turn this trip into another nightmare, the 30 degree temperature, sun, pool and desert oasis soon put all that behind us. Add to that the amazingly friendly staff at the Belle Sands Hotel and everything was back on track and we truely felt like we were on a summer holiday. We went to bed early, read for a while and then went to sleep for an early start to head down to the aforementioned Lines.
We had a quick breakfast and then headed back to the danger zone of the Peruvian roads. The journey down had been a chore due to PC Plod but this one was a different level of disaster thanks to the single carriageway, mountainous route and nowhere to bloody overtake lorries going at 30 miles per hour. It therefore took us 3 and a half hours to do a journey that should take about 2. Add to that the fact that we could not find the airport in Nasca (nothing is signposted in this country - not even speed bumps in the middle of major highways - yes you read that right speed bumps on roads that are an equivalent of the M1)and there was one very annoyed Mr Pitt sat in the front of the car.
We finally found the airport after Clare got out of the car to ask the poorest man in the world for directions. Not that these directions helped at all! Straight on and left was his answer to Clares much improved Spanish. We went straight and left and found ..........nothing. Clare then asked the second poorest person in the world the way - straight on and left he said. By this point we were not sure whether this was the answer to every question a tourist asks or whether they spoke a native Peruvian language and these were the only 2 words they knew in Spanish. Eventually straight on and RIGHT got us there. Well I say got us there- it got us to a place that was signposted airport, the fact that it looked like a field in the middle of a desert surrounded by a cobbled together wall would be a more accurate signpost. We looked at each other and it was clear that this is not a place that any kind of responsible parent would let their daughter go to. This is not the kind of place that any responsible adult would allow themselves to go to.
Imagine Heathrow airport built by people with no thumbs, no eyes, no co-ordination, no clue and no raw materials and you are still nowhere near what this place looks like. Needless to say - we turned around to go home again and stop off at the viewpoint in order to see the Worldfamous Lines from the safety of solid ground. But first we were all desperate for the toilet (well obviously Tilly wasnt but it was clear that she was desperate for a change by the smell that was now swirling around the hot and muggy car).
We looked for a place that would look clean enough to have an acceptable toilet and we kept looking and we kept looking; we passed 5 restaurants, 10 more restaurants, 53 more restauarnts and still each one looked like 4 sheets of cardboard held together by a plastic sheet thrown over the top. The food would have led to Peruivan Belly case number 6 for me and the toilets would not even be worth imagining. Finally we found a decent enough looking toilet at an Internationally recognised petrol station (safe enough surely).
On entrance to the toliet the smell was tangible, the number of flies made the room look dark even in the middle of the day and the walls, although brown in appearance had clearly once been painted white. The urinal was just about descernable at the back of the room as I clawed through the fly entrance curtain. I was desperate and there was no turning back now. As I was completing my much needed bodily function, I peered to the right and had I not already started my necessary deed, I would have run away as fast as I could.
In Peru, in the poorer areas, you are not meant to put toilet paper into the toilet but rather into the bin at the side of the toilet bowl. This bin is then emptied daily or hourly in the more up-market toiletries. However, This particular W.C. did not seem to think that daily emptying was needed, it also did not think that weekly empties were needed but rather a yearly waste collection would suffice. This had been the most sanitary appearing washroom in the whole of Nasca and now I was looking into a cubicle that resembled what Andy Dufrain has to crawl through at the end of Shawshank Redemption (apologies not for the graphic comments ((as I could never be graphic enough to re-produce this scene))but for the spoiler!). In England this place would have been shut down years ago, it would have had toxic health warnings - In Peru, it is the best of a bad bunch! After this unpleasant stop-off, what else could we do but go next door for chips!
Tilly was again centre of attention in the road side diner and yet another waitress went to pick up Tilly without asking. We could not really stop her as Tilly was alofted into the air before our eyes and the only saving grace was that she did ask before handing Tilly around the rest of the staff. The male manager seemed particularly taken by our smiling daughter as the waitresses took pictures of him holder this strange smiling giggling white baby.
Then came our trip to the viewpoint. I will have to stop calling it a viewpoint from this moment onwards as their is no VIEW and honestly no POINT to walking up the hill. You cannot see anything, you cannot make out what the lines are meant to be, you cannot see a monkey or humming bird or anything else the guidebook claims would be visble. You simply see a couple of big lines in what looks like the same desert you have been seeing for the last 6 hours of driving. The Nasca Lines may look spectacular from the air but you have to enter the airport of death first and other that this, the town is dirty, packed and poorly signposted and there is nowhere to eat or go to the loo.
Our journey home was the highlight of the Nasca trip as Ron's Rock VI blared out of the radio and 'We Built This City' could be heard echoing for miles around the baron desert wastelands of Peru.