Feliz Ano Nuevo!

During our first day at our hostel in Peru, Dan and I spent some time speaking with Louis, the owner of the hostel, who was one of the few people we met who spoke English very well. Louis recommended that we give sandsurfing a try and told us about Ica, a small town 6 hours south of Lima, popular for its sand dunes. New Years Eve Dan and I boarded a bus that appeared to be going to Ica. Nothing is guaranteed when you don't know the language! The bus was a bit smaller than a typical American coach bus would have been, and lacked bathrooms and air conditioning, and the ride was an experience in itself.

The entire ride my eyes were glued to the window as we passed towns that reminded me that I was in a third world country. Towns in ruins that appeared as if they had been abandoned years ago, were bustling with children running around and small shops and places to eat. It seemed surreal, as if I were a fly on the wall looking into a world that I could have only seen on television.

Luckily, a mere 6 hours later, we arrived in Ica to once again be attacked by taxi drivers. One taxi cab driver caught our attention as he tried to convince us to go to a different hostel than the one we had already made a reservation at. After trying to explain ourselves in Spanish and bargaining down the price, he took us to our hostel where we were once again greeted by a man who knew absolutely no English. I guess I should have anticipated this coming to a South American country for the first time, but I guess most of my travels before now were to much more touristy places.



Exhausted from the long bus ride, we explored the city a bit, and New Years Eve was spent watching the celebration on television and spying out our window at the Peruvians celebrating in the streets. At midnight, fireworks, firecrackers and sirens could be heard as the local Peruvians lit pre-made piles of material on fire and children ran around waving sparklers in the air.