I awoke this
morning, after a very long sleep, feeling like crap: head spinning, queasy and
diarrhoea. Maybe it was something I ate? I postponed the day’s tour and went
back to bed and, luckily, felt much better when I woke again at noon.
At about 2pm, I
headed out, and walked up and down the streets of the inner city, taking photos
of buildings and doorways and the plaza, and checking out restaurants. There
were plenty of local places but none looked too clean and I was a little wary
so I returned to the place I ate at yesterday, where I had a simple meal of chicken
and chips.
Back at the hotel
after lunch, I asked the owner for directions to the museum she had mentioned
the previous day. “Turn left at the other side of the plaza and walk 5 blocks.”
Off I went, slowly in the heat. After a couple of blocks, the buildings got
more dilapidated, then the pavement disappeared into dust and I was a little
worried I had gone the wrong way. Was I heading into a bad neighbourhood? I
asked some schoolgirls where the museum was and, luckily, they confirmed I was
on the right road so I continued … and there, one block further on the right
was the sign, Museo Antonini.
The exhibits were
really interesting – the explanations were all in Spanish, of course, but I
could make out most of them. They told the story of the excavations at the nearby
pyramids at Cahuachi and other sites in the Nazca area. Maps and pictures
showed the geological zones and ecosystems; diagrams explained the
cross-sections of the excavations; there were displays of agricultural tools
and crops grown; replicas provided visual explanations of the building methods
for houses and the pyramids themselves; and the beautiful ceramics illustrated
the rich culture of the ancient Nazca peoples. Slightly macabre but extremely
interesting was a display of decapitated skulls, which may have been offerings
to the gods or perhaps trophies of war. There was also one huge cabinet with an
incredibly well-preserved and large piece of cloth – the colours were still
rich, the patterns vibrant, even after some 1500 years.
I could hear the
calls of peacocks and, when I ventured out the back of the museum, found a delightful
garden, complete with a displaying peacock and his hen. His tail was fully
extended and he was shaking vigorously in an effort to impress his mate. She
was ignoring him, picking at the seed tray. Another tourist, a young German
from his accent, was also taking photos of them. We chatted briefly. He was
identifying with the male peacock: “Story of my life”, he said. I thought that
a very candid remark to make to a stranger! I said I thought the hen was
deliberately ignoring her mate to provoke more displays. The German laughed at
that. I wondered at the story behind his comment and reaction.
The garden also
contained replica tombs, an aqueduct and cave paintings, as well as a
miniaturised map of the Nazca lines. With the shady trees, it was a cool and
refreshing oasis in the heat and bustle of the city.
I grabbed a few more
street photos on the way back to the hotel, some interesting signs and one very
bizarre building. I had a quiet evening and was asleep early, as the next day
was to be long and busy.
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