Have survived my first Peruvian bus ride, and was pretty relieved to make it out alive. There were a few hairy moments when I said a mental goodbye to everyone I hold dear, but someone must have been watching over me, because I made it. I have learned that there is no elegant way to travel on Peruvian public transport - being packed into the limited space available in the contraption, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with my fellow man at a proximity normally reserved for intimate lovers whilst grabbing onto the pole above my head for dear life, just silently hoping my deodorant had been effective enough to withstand the Lima humidity. Trying to support myself with one arm just wasn't enough I quickly learned, and had to hope my second armpit was also reasonably hygienic as I lifted up my arm to avoid the other being wrenched off. To my surprise, this was not sufficient either, and by the end of the journey I was facing the front of the bus, both hands clutching the metal pole, bum out as far as I could thrust it, and my feet extended as far in front of me as they could get. I'm pretty sure I resembled a constipated monkey.
After having been flung around the inside of a rusty tin in a white-knuckle ride that would challenge the hardiest of adrenaline junkies, my colleagues and I eventually alighted in a district called Barranco - apparently THE place to be on a Friday night. A pretty lively district, I wasn't disappointed. Spent the evening in
Ayahuasca - an amazing bar in the most beautiful historical house. Drank cocktails and had my very first experience eating beef heart - and it was delicious!
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