Nazca day three: the lines, the pyramids and the aquifers

The lines! The lines! I’ve seen the Nazca lines! Not a lot of them, as most are only visible from the air and there was no way I was going up in a small plane and vomit for half an hour to see them, no matter how amazing they are.

My tour guide Jeffrey picked me up at 8.30am and we headed north along the Pan American highway. First stop was a natural hill by the roadside, the place from which many of the actual lines originate, in particular the one that marks the line of the sunrise on the mid-winter solstice. The Nazca desert is littered with heavy rocks – heavy with various minerals, which is part of the reason the lines haven’t been destroyed over time. The lines were made by clearing pathways of varying widths and depths (to a maximum depth of 30cm) of the surrounding rocks – and the lines are as long and straight as I’ve read about.

From the hill, you can see only lines, one rectangular area and a few small circular formations of larger rocks, which may have housed ceremonial fires. Unbelievably, the Pan American highway has been built right through this magnificent place, bisecting lines and, as I saw later, one of the figures – the head of the lizard is now separated from its tail.

The tree

Jeffrey waiting for me at the bottom of the tower

From the first viewing tower, not far from the hill, I could see three of the figures very clearly and close up, the tree and the hands and the dismembered lizard. The tree (the local name is huarango) was particularly distinct and was perhaps 20 metres long, relatively small when compared with some of the other figures but still impressive.

Continuing up the Pan American, after about 15 minutes we turned off to the second tower. Here we saw the human-like figures of a hunter with a bird in his hand, and a family group of mother, father, two children and, set slightly apart, a baby. Strictly speaking, these are not Nazca figures, as they were made by the people of the neighbouring Paracas culture and were made by heaping up stone to create the shapes, rather than taking them away. Fascinating! But what a time for the zoom on my camera not to be working.

For some obscure reason – lost in translation! – but I gather something to do with soaking in the energy, Jeffrey made me breathe in deeply at each of these places (or was this just an excuse to touch my arm, shoulder, tummy?!).

The other Nazca figures passed unseen from the car, though the low-flying planes buzzing overhead marked their positions as we retraced our steps back to the outskirts of the city, then turned inland and sped like rally drivers along 13kms of dirt road across more sandy desert to the pyramid complex of Cahuachi. Within a 24 km² area lie the remains of 36 pyramids. This site is where most of the exhibits I saw yesterday in Antonini’s Museum came from. These are adobe brick pyramids and were built to house the dead and for ceremonial purposes. As Jeffrey put it, the Nazca lines were an open temple to the gods, and the pyramids are closed temples to the gods.

We couldn’t approach the most significant pyramid as part is still being excavated and part is being reconstructed – not sure if I agree with that process but it does give the visitor a better idea of the pyramid’s structure. Just walking around the exterior, we were walking atop adobe walls, could peer into huge grain silos sunk into the sand and see the holes where two enormous clay water jars would have sat – both the silos and the jars would have stored excess supplies in times of plenty, as insurance against times of scarcity.

The most amazing thing for me though, as a history geek, was to walk up and down the ploughed furrows of a field below the pyramid and, with minimal effort, turn up shards of beautifully decorated 2000-year-old pottery, including part of a cat’s face, a fragment of a spider and various geometric designs. I was so tempted to take a couple of pieces (and, as these will probably never be collected for museum display or any other purposes, it would probably have been acceptable) but, out of respect for the site, left my finds in the earth from whence they had emerged. Jeffrey was impressed with my decision – he said most tourists just take what they find.

On the way to this site, while speeding over the lumps and bumps of the dirt road, and on the return journey, Jeffrey sang me romantic songs, not something any man has ever done before! It was a very sweet, if a trifle bizarre experience.

Jeffrey down an aquifer

Our last visit of the day was to the aquifers, the Nazca civilisation’s version of the Roman aqueducts and their answer to the droughts that have plagued this area for millennia. There are several of these aqueducts running from the mountains down into the city, most of which are underground but still accessible every so many metres by spiral pathways built down into the ground. The spiral shape is not just for ease of access but also serves to funnel air into the aquifers, partly to cool the water and partly so the people who ventured into the underground portions of the tunnels to clean them could breathe more easily. Most of the length of the aquifers is underground to prevent evaporation of the previous liquid and all are constructed along a curving, snaking path, rather than straight, to slow the flow of the water. The channels have stone-built sides, 2 metres tall, which have survived the frequent earthquakes that rock this area, though no mortar binds them. Jeffrey told me it is this very flexibility that makes them strong and tremor resistant.

What was most delightful was the bird life that perched in the trees that ran along the line of the aquifers’ route – sparrows, doves, one small darting bird of brilliant red, a tiny brown humming bird and many others sang to their hearts’ content which, together with a wall spilling over with the vibrant colours of bougainvillea and a pleasant cooling breeze, created a near idyllic scene. I could easily have stayed longer.

The last snippet of information I gleaned before we headed back into town was concerning the field next to the bougainvillea wall, which was filled with cactus. This variety is grown for the insects which live on and in them, as the insects produce cochineal. There was a piece of paper on the ground which a previous tourist guide had smeared with insects, producing the distinctive colour to show his tourists.

Jeffrey wanted me to spend the rest of the afternoon with him, eating and talking, but I declined. He was a very nice man and I would definitely recommend him as an excellent tour guide but I was a little uncomfortable with his increasingly amorous attention. I wasn’t afraid of his intentions, it’s just that I haven’t been used to a man paying me that sort of attention in recent years and, as I was off back to Cusco that evening, there seemed no point in encouraging him any further. He certainly made my trip to Nazca more fun and interesting!

Back in town, I ate a late lunch, then sat under a shady tree on a bench in the plaza, writing up my notebook, people watching and very much enjoying not being constantly pestered by shoeshine boys and trinket sellers, as would have been the case in Cusco. It had been a wonderful long weekend, full of amazing sights and incredible ancient culture. Thank you, Nazca and Jeffrey for your hospitality!

Nazca day two: the city and Antonini's Museum

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.

Nazca day one: mummies, ceramics and gold

I’m here and I’m exhausted! What a nightmare of a bus journey – not because of the bus, but the road twisted and turned its way around the mountainsides, from Cusco’s 12,000 feet down to Nazca’s almost sea level, for 14 hours! I slept a little but it wasn’t very restful – I had to wedge myself into my seat with my arms to stop rolling constantly back and forth as that rolling motion was making me feel seasick. I looked out the window from time to time once it got light but all I saw was dry, rocky, hilly country and yet more winding roads ahead, so I quickly shut my eyes again. I imagine some of the roads we drove down during the night were fairly hair-raising, so I’m rather glad I did the journey at night.

On the short drive to the hotel my taxi driver persuaded me to go on a tour with him this afternoon – perhaps not the smartest move for a woman alone but, if anything, he will be after my money, nothing else from a wrinkly old bat like me, so I think I’ll be safe. I’ll leave most of my money and my passport locked up in my bag at the hotel and I’ll charge up my phone – not that that would necessarily help.

Oh, and the hotel, the Kunan Wasi which I had prebooked on booking.com, is fine – just one block from the Plaza de Armas and clean and bright, if rather twee. Check out the bathroom picture!

I’ve had a shower and a nap but I’m still a little shaky from exhaustion, and the more than 30°C heat here is energy sapping, so I’m sitting in a restaurant in the plaza, having a sugar-filled Coca Cola and about to have some food, which I hope will revive me somewhat.

Later … well, the afternoon was fine. Jeffrey collected me from the hotel on time at 2pm and we were soon speeding south down the Pan American highway in his little red taxi, enjoying a somewhat stilted conversation in Span-glish – his English is about the same level as my Spanish – about life, love and Nazca – mostly, about love. It seems I was wrong about him only being interested in my money! He quickly asked how old I was, if I was married, and, though he is 39, he is not married, preferring, it seems, to pick up women from around the world and show them a good time Latino-style! He was very complimentary – said he thought I was between 40 and 45 and wouldn’t believe I am 56 – all part of the charm process! But I am not interested in a brief fling with a shortish  Latino from Nazca, no matter how nice he appears, how much he smiles and says sweet things and touches my arm.

About 30 kilometres south of Nazca we turned inland and churned up the dust, barrelling over a barren dirt road. We passed a modern-day cemetery of wooden and metal crosses – surprisingly there were no families there today on the Day of the Dead, cleaning up the graves and having a picnic lunch with their deceased family members. Before we reached the surrounding hillsides, which are where the mummy civilisation actually lived, we reached the place where they buried their dead.

Twelve graves have been opened at Chauchilla for tourists to see the mummies. The graves are covered with wooden and thatch shelters to protect them from the 3 to 4 hours of rain this place receives each year and have stone walls on their southern sides to protect them from the constant wind that soon had my hair blown wildly and my face covered in gritty sand.

The mummies are fascinating – seated in a foetal position (the tendons behind their knees and across their elbows were apparently cut post-mortem to achieve this) (another opportunity for Jeffrey to touch my arm to explain this!), their skin rubbed with minerals, wrapped in cotton and textiles, then placed in the graves, all facing towards the rising sun. From this, archaeologists have concluded these people believed in reincarnation. The hair and textiles, and sometimes the skin, are remarkably well preserved considering the burials date from between 200 and 1000AD. The hair was particularly fascinating – extremely long and now lying curled around the body on the sand – but these may have been the original Rastafarians, wearing their hair is big spiral mounds on their heads.

The bodies are buried in family groups of, on average, 2 or 3, and up to as many as 6, including the occasional tiny bundle of a baby, sometimes all in one chamber, sometimes in multi-roomed chambers, and they have very simple grave goods – earthenware plates of corn and meat and urns of water. Some of the pottery is plain, some decorated. Around these restored graves are strewn the remains of hundreds more that have been subject to the vandalism of grave robbers, hunting for the more ornate pottery. Fragments of bone and pottery, pieces of hair and textiles, just lie on the surface of the sandy soil.

Unfortunately, my camera started playing up at this point. It would take normal pictures but, if I tried to zoom in, would take a blank picture and had to be turned on and off before taking a normal image again. It hasn’t been jolted, banged or badly treated in any way so I have no idea why it chose this moment to become faulty. Maybe the mummies didn’t like being photographed – spooky!

It’s easy to see why the Nazca civilisation failed due to lack of water, particularly as their economy and daily sustenance was based on agriculture. The valleys surrounding the now-dry river beds form green stripes on an otherwise arid and barren landscape, so there is obviously water underground near the rivers for those roots deep enough to reach it.

The only crop I saw was cactus, grown both for its fruit – called tuna here – and for its leaves, which provide the ingredients for face creams and ointments. As well as tourism, the area’s main industry is mining – those barren-looking hills are rich in copper and gold, and I was to see more of the gold extraction process a little later that afternoon. But first we headed off to the workshop of the most famous ceramic-producing family in the region, the Emilia pottery workshop. Grandfather Andrés Calle rediscovered and practised the traditional techniques of his Nazca ancestors, and his descendants continue in his wake. They have photographed most of the pieces in local museums and now reproduce these for sale to tourists.

I was first shown the process, based on the rich clay deposits of the region, with no moulds used, simply a very basic form of wheel, more like a spinning plate, and using a llama bone to smooth the external surface of the vessel. The colours – shades of red, white, yellow, brown and blue – come from minerals, ground down into fine powders and mixed with water, and the firing process uses a traditional clay-brick oven, which must be heated to 900°to bake the ceramics sufficiently. Once fired, the slightly grainy surface of the pot is rubbed vigorously with special stones, which serve to polish off the roughness.

Then to the salesroom, of course! And, although my suitcase is already destined to be full to bursting when I leave Peru, I couldn’t resist a small wall plaque, with a figure of the god of Tiwanaku, the civilisation in Bolivia near Lake Titicaca. Apparently, this and the Wari and the Nazca cultures were all linked. Many of the ceramics had picaflor designs and I was tempted by them, as a reminder of my time at Picaflor House, but I preferred the colours of the other piece.

From ceramics to gold … we next visited a gold processing workshop, where the rock is pulverised then mercury used to extra the gold dust – a very large amount of rock for a very small amount of 14 to 22 carat gold – but enough for families to labour away at this backbreaking task for a few years to make their fortunes. They work in small co-operatives, the better to protect each other during times of ill-health and injury, probably quite a frequent occurrence considering everything is done by hand and part contains potentially hazardous chemicals. It reminded me of the coca-chewing silver miners of Potosi, in Bolivia.

This is how they pulverise the gold-bearing rocks, standing on that plank and rocking the large stone back and forth.

That was the last call of the day and Jeffrey dropped me back at the hotel just before 5pm. And my first impressions of Nazca? Well, it is disproportionately noisy in relation to its size. Just sitting in the restaurant at lunchtime the noise level generated by the air-conditioning unit, radio and television, external traffic and jovial patrons must have been well above acceptable decibel levels. The city seems small and rather unattractive. The large plaza has benches, sculptures and a tiled walkway all decorated with the symbols from the lines but little else to beautify it, though a smattering of trees provides some shade from the sweltering heat. The church is utilitarian and, frankly, ugly. There seems to be nothing old or historical within the city itself, which is what usually gives a city its character and charm, at least in my eyes.