Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
the world resembling aeroplanes in the moment of crashing; and every now and again a curi-
ous seal would come to the surface and look at us as if wondering what we were doing there.
The hot and very bright sunlight reflected off the wet sand and the waves, and the snow-white
gulls circling silently around us made my eyes smart, obliging me to wear the green goggles
I had used in the mountains. Journeys through such deserts are trying in the extreme. At first
the body suffers, then everything physical becomes abstract. Later on the brain becomes dull
and the thoughts mixed; one becomes indifferent about things, and then everything seems like
a moving picture or a strange dream, and only the will to arrive and to keep awake is left.
All thinking ceases, and when one finally arrives and falls to sleep, even the will temporarily
leaves the body.
Dante's
Inferno
is a creation of stupendous imagination, but the Peruvian deserts are real;
very real.
In most of the coastal villages I slept in the police stations, when there were any, and the
horses spent the nights in the prison yards, which are surrounded by high adobe walls. Hardly
any of these settlements have hotels or inns, and if there happened to be a hut masquerading
under the name, it usually lacked a safe place where I could keep the horses. If I was lucky
enoughtofindtheprisonempty,the
jefe de policia
gavemethekeystotheplace.ThusIcould
lock up my things and then go to see if there was any fodder to be found, and whilst I took the
animals to water, often at some distance from the place, my belongings were relatively safe.
Once the animals had been attended to, frequently a difficult and heartbreaking job, I was free
to go searching for food for myself. Restaurants have not even been heard of in many of these
villages, so I had to enquire for any house or hut where they are accustomed to sell food to
strangers, and when I finally found the place the food was invariably the same; the standard
menu of the Peruvian coast being boiled rice, beans, fried bananas, fried eggs, and black cof-
fee. Often I considered myself lucky when I found even that.
InoneofthesmallcoastaltownsaSpaniardintroducedhimselftome.Helookedapleasant
sort of fellow, and told me he had lived quite a number of years in the Argentine. In the even-
ingwechattedforsometime,andduringthecourseofconversationhesaidthatnoman'sedu-
cation was complete unless he had seen one of the low 'dance halls' that exist in some of the
small towns along the Peruvian coast, and when I expressed my willingness to see and learn
he offered to act as guide. Soon we were on our way towards the place that was situated about
a mile out of the little town. The 'dance hall' was merely a large adobe hut, and the interior
was lit by two oil lamps. Along the walls were rough benches on which some dirty, ragged
and barefooted men sat, whilst others were standing in front of a counter made of old packing
caseswherealcoholwasbeingdespatched. Thebossoftheplace wasafatandgreasymestizo
woman with strands of black hair hanging over her face, hair that was coarse and wiry like a
horse's mane. Several equally repulsive females were acting as 'dancing-partners' to any man
who wished to pay ten cents for the pleasure of having one of them. I have seen some villain-
ous faces in some of the 'western hair-raisers,' but since I have been in that dance hall it is
