Inka time, not peruvian time

I'm not worried about time, nor my time shedule for this clockwise trip around south america, but still more than a week short of halftime I find myself already preparing for next weeks flight into Iquitos - my gateway to the Amazon. Looking back it means I spent lazy weeks during the 'cold' festive season with friends in brasil, crossed Argentine down south on the 'R40' deep into Patagonia, moved all the way up by ferryboat and nightbuses through Chile, only to find myself on the way out of Peru. Yet I know, long days on diverse cargo and transportation boats on the endless carving stream through deep rainforrest - till the other side of the continent - soon will become my daily concern.

 

Sounds like I am rushing like tourists on their annual vacation? Not at all, opposit, and right now I had alredy third time lunch at a small local restaurant in Cusco - on following days, of course, for a menu price less than a medium coffee at nearby Starbucks located strategically in front of the gold-shimmering Inka ruler overlooking the 'Plaza das Armas', formerly the most important crossing of the Inka trails.

 

It's the food, making a difference. On a journey like this you meet people going your way too, and others crossing your way coming from destinations ahead - so I knew about that 'peruvian cuisine' is most backpackers favoured one. And I do agree, as far as I compare my own standards - based on my time in Lisbon - with the other three countries on my roadtrip: delicious variety, natural grown, healty and very reasonable priced. The latter was hard to find along the tourist's track through Brasil, Argentine and Chile - condemning me often to canned and packed supermarket lunch and dinner arrangements. Well, now I'm catching up and I forgive myself to have more often (nutricious and delicious) meet on my plate.

Indeed that was necessary. I was on 70kg - dressed, including my new trekking boots! What leads me to another positive impression about Peru: their public health system. Two months into my journey a sudden kind of flue took over control of my body - shame, exactly on my trip to Machu Picchu. Coming back from my day up in the lost city and climbing Wanapicchu, I knew only medicine will keep me on track. Asking in a small drugstore, selling also grocceries and souveniers, the lady told me she can't sell me antibiotics without medical receipt. Fair enough, so I visited the nearby 'Hospital', somehow reminding me any of the rural healthposts in Africa. However, after registration of my passport, body temperature, weight, height and blood pressure, I was taken for medical consultaion - and 10 minutes later I could thank my doctor with the needed medicine in my hands, all for less than the already cited medium Starbucks coffee.


I do feel better now and the next nightbus is waiting: I am on a sidetrip to the world largest high-altitude Lake Titicaca on the peruvian-bolivian border, to meet the Uros-people on their unique floating islands built of layers of reeds. And my ticket to Iquitos I just picked up - Tarzan, I'll be there soon ...

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