More Horror from the South

Well, my friends. To show you once again that traveling is not fun at all, I will tell you what happened to me in a span of less than three days. Warning: this is not for the faint of heart or weak of stomach !

After a nice day of relaxing in the desert oasis of Huacachina, I decided to participate in a little desert tour involving dune buggy riding and sandboarding. I was told it was jolly good fun ... this dune buggy was a monstrous thing. It could hold about 9 people and was open, with roller bars for protection. And it was FAST ! Woooheee !!!
We stopped a few times for the sand boarding, a higher dune every time. Now there were several techniques to this, but I went for the most adventurous (of course) ... going down in snow board stance, however not zigzagging, but straight down. To my suprise it went pretty well, whizzing down again and again, the envy of all, and ending up without too much eating of the sand.

Then the second dune. This one was much higher, but my confidence was at a peek. Smirking at the others going down "sled" style or trying the zigzag, I prepared for my big moment. With loud support from the others I speeded down the dune, faster and faster, screaming my lungs out. ALLRIGHT !!!
The end approached ... stopping hadn´t been on mind much and flashed through my brain that I actually hadn´t had one single succesful stop. Oboyoboyoboy !! I did stop ... in style ... making a perfect salto mortale, landing on my head, bouncing a few more times on my hip and leg until the final stand - or lie - still. (Yes, I didn´t think you could bounce on sand either).

Wowsers ... I decided to skip the third dune for a bit, but still did the fourth, truly HUGE, in zig zag style ... mucho mas lentos :-).

When I woke up the following morning, my body presented me with a unique combination of physical sensations:

• Surprise surprise ... a raging headache
• Muscle soreness all over my arms, shoulders and whatmore from trying remain inside the dune buggy
• Muscle soreness in the rest of my body because of the sandboarding
• Painful left hip and leg from the sand bouncing
• A neck as stiff as a sandboard
• Annoyingly sunburnt shoulders and upper arms
• Oh yeah, and a nasty cold from the speed in the buggy ...

Try to imagine the sound coming out of my mouth when I tried to get up ... try again, think more elephant ...

However, this was nothing compared to the horror I had to endure the following day. Having taken the bus to Pisco, I hobbled through town looking back at my hair being dragged on the streets. Yes, it was time. I had to have a Haircut. Understand this, since I was 12, I had gone to the same hair cutting thingy. Nobody else had ever touched my hair. I was scared shitless. (Remember, even Super Grover is afraid to have his hair cut).

They already saw me coming, sharpening their tools of death in the glistening sun: the Barbers. Hey wait a minute ... this is cool. Of course, male barbers ! No mere female is allowed here to touch the hair of a MAN. That is a MAN´s job. (For you non-Dutchies, in Holland 99% is female). I sat down in Carlos´s chair, ordered my flavour of the month and off he went. Fast, professional, and beter still ... we talked football ! I can never do that back home. With his infinite football knowledge he said, yes, he knew Feyenoord. Second in the tables at the moment. And he was pleased to inform me that Barcelona trashed Real Madrid 3-0.

And the result after paying 5 soles (just over 1 euro!!!) ... yes, I am back to being the God-Man of old. Walking back to the hotel I passed the tour operator I booked a tour with earlier, and the little fellow working there, overtly gay, asked me out for a beer right away. There you have it !

[stud again]

It doesn´t end here, but I will spare you the story of the boat tour to the Ballesta Islands where I had to put up with a boat full of tourists (bah!) and customary treat-you-like-a-child and never-shut-up ´guide´ ... I want to go hoooome ... ;-)