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For various reasons I was booked on a flight to Hong Kong the day after I was due to return from Peru. What would this mean? – 13,000 miles in the space of 3 days – nearly 30 hours spent a mile above the earth. Not before had I such a far-reaching journey planned for such a short space of time. But I wouldn’t have done it any differently.
The sky may always be a similar shade of grey in Lima, but the buildings are painted straight from a palette. There is reason within the madness. The ever-gloomy weather has resulted in high suicide rates. The idea is that multicoloured streets will cheer everybody up. The result? Everything is exceedingly colourful and quaint.
As you may have read in Craig’s frank and gruesome account of yesterday, we were grounded in Puno until his condition stabilised. It was in the balance as to whether he’d be able to fly, but due to insurance issues (and the elaborate domino effect it would have had on my own travels), two of us would have to leave either way.
Written by Craig: I am Michael’s baby brother (aged 21), and I get sick on approximately 50% of our travels together. This time my immune system decided to test out the Peruvian health care system without first consulting my conscious mind. On the day we were due to leave Puno for Lima I almost died, yet again.
We got here in the dark late last night. There was a big French group checking in. I got no dinner. I filled in my Bolivian immigration forms and went online. Puno’s like Lima. Crime is too frequent. The roads are potholed. Streets and buildings are an unattractive orange-brown colour. Our hotel is enclosed within security fencing.
