Living in Peru : your everyday companion

By Ruth Holliday
Telegraph.co.uk

After two months battling altitude fatigue in the Andes, getting back down to sea level in Lima fills me with beans. Despite my re-oxygenated superpowers, I decide not to test my luck by lingering too long in the Peruvian capital.

The city is getting safer by the year and I spend an enjoyable night in the smart district of Miraflores without needing to fend off any baddies. Nevertheless I am eager to get away from the edgy atmosphere and frequent hassle that continue to make Lima unpopular with visitors.

I decide instead to head north in search of the mud-brick city of Chan Chan - the largest pre-Hispanic settlement in South America. The ruins lie just outside Peru's third largest city, Trujillo, which has the added draw of unspoilt Pacific beaches and the promise of some seaside fun.

On arrival I take a walk through Trujillo's brightly painted historic centre. It is low season here and I am the only white-skinned tourist in sight. No surprise then that my tour to Chan Chan is offered only in Spanish.

Although I understand most of what is said, the vast geometric ruins speak for themselves. This was the capital of the Chimu empire, immediately preceding the Incas. Constructed on a desert plane out of sand, seashells and ceramic, the 20-square kilometre metropolis was home to 30,000 people.

Its vast, labyrinthine walls are surrounded by an ingenious network of water channels which kept the fields watered and the Chimu fed. Eventually, the Incas would defeat their coastal rivals by diverting this water supply, killing the city with thirst.

The site is perfectly flat so unlike mountain-top Machu Picchu there is no vantage point from which to see the size and scale of Chan Chan. Instead we wander from one enormous ceremonial plaza to another through a seemingly endless maze of skyscraping, sandy walls.

At one point we emerge next to the city's well, the size of a football pitch and 13 metres deep.

Water was sacred to the Chimu who believed that mankind emerged from the sea. Their creation myths and religious ceremonies all drip with aquatic imagery.

In “Arco Iris” (The Rainbow Temple), we see carvings of water gods, joined at the mouth in the act of creating life. In the Tschudi complex, fish and pelicans festoon the walls and much of the structure is plaited in the shape of giant fishing nets.

Ironically water is now Chan Chan's worst enemy. A thousand years on, the ruins are ravaged by rainwater, eroded to a fraction of their former size.

To defend against further damage, the site's custodians have erected miles of ugly scaffolding topped with corrugated iron roofing. Effective it may be, but it makes photographing the ruins a tough task.

History-fed but hungry I head back to Trujillo and set about finding somewhere to eat. On a Sunday, only two restaurants in the city are open for dinner. With the help of two American tourists befriended at Chan Chan, we successfully track down a pizzeria.

Collecting dinner buddies is becoming a new hobby of mine. In Peru I was spoiled for choice thanks to a dense itinerary of Spanish lessons, treks and tours. Now that I am hanging loose for a few weeks, travelling solo, talking to strangers is a must. So far I have been blessed with some tremendous temporary friends. But as a lone woman it can be difficult to invite yourself along for dinner without it sounding like a pick-up line.

Next day - pizza digested and back by myself, I wake up hungry for a second helping of history. I head out to The Temple of the Sun and the Moon using the cheap, cramped combi buses which serve the city. After a sweaty half hour's journey I am at the headquarters of an even older pre-Incan culture - the Moche.

The Temples, known as “Huacas”, are also built in the desert - in the shadow of two sacred mountains. The Temple of the Sun was the political and administrative capital of the Moche while the Moon Temple was the religious hub, as well as the setting for some gory sacrificial ceremonies.

What makes these Huacas worth seeing are the frescoes and mosaics inside. After they were plundered and partially destroyed by the Spanish, nature set about protecting the Moche's incredible artwork by burying it under metres and metres of sand.

As archaeologists painstakingly brush away the layers of desert, thousands of vibrant images appear. The academics here never restore or tamper with the images, everything is completely original. And some are still so extravagantly colourful, I am staggered to learn that they may pre-date Christ.

Alive as these images appear, they are not the liveliest bit of history at the Huacas. This distinction belongs to the Viringo - a hairless Peruvian dog bred by the Moches. A few balding descendents still trot around the temples today, looking rather flea bitten and emaciated. I am reassured by my guide that this is perfectly normal - the breed suffers various skin problems including sunburn - a raw deal for a desert-living dog.

My next stop after the Huacas is Huanchaco - a seaside resort with Moche roots. Here you can see the tribe's distinctive reed-woven boats lined up along the esplanade. They are still used by the town's fishermen today.

Huanchaco is an idyllic seaside spot, populated mainly by surfers. The waves here are epic - and the sound of the surf so loud that it keeps me awake in my hostel room at night. I stay in the basic but clean Rubalong Hostal on the seafront and grab the chance to dip my toes in the Pacific.

Over breakfast, I get chatting to a Norwegian and a Dutchman, both building tourist apartments in Huanchaco. They tell me that in five years' time, this sleepy town will be seething with gringos. The whole strip has already been sold to European developers, meaning Peru's favourite family getaway will soon be built up like the Costa Brava.

"I'm glad I came here now then," I tell them.

Trujillo may be off the usual tourist circuit but a luxury bus from Lima costs just 70 soles (around £12) each way with Oltursa, including meals, reclining bed-seats, great safety features and a outrageous level of luxury.

If you can hit this northern stretch of coast before the concrete jungle springs up, you may well appreciate why the Moche worshipped the sea - and why Peruvians still head this way for their hard-earned holidays.