The 'entertainment' on the bus ride into Peru didn't serve as the best introduction... For those of you who've seen Mel Gibson's Apocolypto you'll understand. We arrived in Arequipa and didn't mind too much getting ripped off by the taxi driver- he gave us quite an informative tour of the colourful city and also, we thought the exchange rate was more favourable for the first couple of days. Therefore, our kind of cool, kind of empty and weird accommodation, and tour to Colca Canyon seemed really cheap! A 2.30am start and the realisation that we'd left two of our park entrance tickets at home were redeemed by dawn. We entered the region via a Vicuna Park (think of a deer crossed with a llama) and by 9 in the morning, we were watching condors soaring above a canyon that was a kilometre deep. We've found that preparing snacks always takes precedence over sleep, so we managed to opt out of the group lunch at a standardly over-priced buffet and lay out on the grass with avocado sandwiches....right outside the restaurant. Classy. Especially cutting into (and finishing) a whole block of cheese with a rusty penknife. Didn't make tonnes of friends on that tour. Apart from the birds, of course.
Not quite a condor but certainly worth the photo fee. In fact, it seemed that splashing out was truly on the agenda that day. After experiencing much envy throughout our trip- we'd heard tales of post-dinner whiskey and on-board bingo games- we decided to treat ourselves to a ride on a 'cama' bus to Cusco.
Witness right: Budgeting. We knew it was right for us from the get-go: no running water, therefore no flushing toilet, and an available room with two single beds. Perfect, we thought, let's just share! A day or so later, we began to realise this was a bad decision. Three days later, we were sleeping in shifts. And the damp had started to really affect us... Meg, suffering especially, was bedridden, so we had to push back our trek date a couple of times. What a shame for Anna & Eva that postponing meant they were obliged to attend large hostel party dressed as a papaya and a pineapple. Meg seemed somewhat glad that she didn't have to join them as 'Kiwi'.
Mostly recovered from damp-sickness and indulgence as exotic fruits- they really know how to have fun- we finally set off on our 'Jungle Trek', of which Machu Picchu would be the end goal. Glad to have our favourite Mancunian companions in wing, we were optimistic. But Day 1 started on slightly rocky ground. Getting the cheapest tour around does, obviously, have its drawbacks. We can handle ambiguous meat and meandering mini-bus journeys, but bikes with no brakes wasn't exactly ideal. Even less ideal was that despite stopping at three bike store rentals along the way (they don't book things in advanced here, which became even more apparent later), there weren't enough bikes to go round. The guide appointed a fellow tour member to lead the way, who fell off his bike half-way through, so we spent the day stopping at every new town, wondering if that was the destination.
After the road accident, we were one friend down. The lack of brakes hit home for her when trying to avoid said fallen 'group leader'. A fit and healthy foursome, we turned down the optional zip wire (skydiving is cooler and we've done that) and braved the seven hour walk. Described by the commission-friendly guide as a 'busy, dirt road', we were pleasantly surprised to be trekking alongside a waterfall, and then following train tracks through the jungle for the majority of the day. 
Exhausted, but ecstatic- we'd accomplished one of our main trip goals. We trekked through the jungle and climbed bloody Machu Picchu and the tour agency couldn't even complete their ONE task- booking our return train. 'Girls,' said Jergen, 'there has been a little problem.' He suggested that instead, we stay an extra night and catch the 5am train back to Cusco. Oh, we went all 'Na-ah', bitch-fit on him. In South America, when threre's a will, there's a way. Because we'd kicked up such a fuss, when a First Class train pulled up to our platform, we thought we'd been spoiled for the agency's miss-conduct. Then another train pulled up on our right.
Well-rested after another night in Cusco, this time in our own beds, thank god, we headed to Huacachina the next morning. We like simple places, so we knew we'd reached a winner when we saw that the only bar in town was called 'Huaca-fucking-china'. After so much time in the bustling city, and so much time on our poor little feet, we relished in the relaxed atmosphere that Banana Hostel offered us. Before even checking in, we were poolside with a beer. That night, we trundled up to the top of the sand dunes in order to watch the sunset fall over the lagoon. 
People go to Huachachina for two things: to climb the sand-dunes for sunset and to launch themselves down them upon a piece of wood. We went sand-boarding! We were picked up in a futuristic buggy and driven at quite a speed up, down and through the dunes. It felt like we were all racing teammates in a video game. Sand-boarding was equally exhilarating. With little to no instruction, we were pushed between the legs of our guide down half-pipes made of sand. That night, we all were emptying sand out of the strangest of places and comparing the bruises on our thighs.
From the wooden shacks at Banana, to a homely apartment with a sea view. We arrived in Lima very in need of a washing machine and a home-cooked meal. Like spoiled kids arriving home from university, we received such a warm welcome and were immediately treated as part of the family at Dick and Anita's.
Very reluctant to leave our pad- we'd stayed an extra night even though our hosts left for holiday in order to catch up with a special friend from Argentina- we thought it was probably time for us to start worrying about Meg's flight home. We needed to head north, pretty sharpish. With fully-recovered, trusty Mancunians saving our beds in Mancora, we would undertake the longest bus journey of our trip so far.
The Kokopelli hostel chain earned itself the title of our favourite upon arrival in beach town, Mancora. It was bliss. Despite Eva's second bout of bed bugs, we spent the time completely relaxed, doing what we love best: absolutely nothing. We discovered some incredible desserts and tried our hand at pool volleyball, much to the amusement of the much-more-active-than-us Loki hostellers. Everything was perfectly within reach. We spent our evenings sampling the region's ceviche with the waves lapping at our feet. A perfect close to Peru.
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