I'm Trying to Find It

¨Happy Father's Day,¨ we all toasted Pancho, our tour guide, at breakfast this morning, as none of us had our own fathers present with whom to celebrate. At this point in our weekend we all started calling him Papa Pancho and I told everyone they would win the most points if they called him that in front of other Peruvians in public.

Today's adventure-seeing a UNESCO World Heritage sight-the Nazca Lines (http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/700). We loaded up Papa Pancho's van and headed to the small airport in Nazca. You have to see the lines from above, so we were going to have to take a tiny airplane and fly over them. It was a cloudy morning, so no planes were allowed to take off. Thus, we had to wait. Papa Pancho decided to take us to a pottery studio where we would learn about the pottery from the region.

Back in the van we went and about a minute down the road later we were at the pottery studio. All seven us took a seat around a long rectangular table with soft red clay and various painted pots placed on it. I could tell many a pots had been created here. The worn wooden table had remnants of dried clay and dust covering it.

A larger Peruvian man told us how his grandfather discovered some ancient Nazca pottery in a cemetery and figured out that because of the finger indentions inside, the pots were made without using a wheel. He went on to tell us how the pots are still made today according to traditional methods. The whole time he was talking he was working on smoothing out a small clay pot on the table in front of him. He told us about how the pots are fired only once...not like other pots that are fired once, then painted, then fired again, for a total of two times...but these pots are only fired once (a point he belabored). The man showed us how different glazes were made from different minerals in the area and he showed us the brushes they use. The bristles of the thin paint brushes were made of about two inches of soft baby hair. Human baby hair. Hmm...interesting.

When he finished talking, we were then escorted to the room full of pottery painted with earthen colors and intricate designs, which, of course, we were free to buy. I browsed a little, but pictured any of my purchases broken into hundreds of piece by the time I arrived back to Dallas so I decided not to get anything.

After a few minutes of browsing, Pancho told us the potter wanted to give us a present--for free. Right, for "free." Ok, what strings are attached? He gives it to us for "free" then we pay him or buy something else. No, Pancho assured me for real free. OK then. So we each got a little key chain with a black or brown rock attached with a different Nazca line formation etched into it depending on our astrological sign. I got a the monkey formation (see picture of real formation above) and was excited that Scorpio didn´t get the shaft for once. I fastened my new key chain to a zipper on my black bag I carry everywhere and said thanks.

Back to the airport for some more waiting. I read a little while, helping my growing pages read per day average which is bigger than it has been in a long time. The weather is colder than we expected so I put some tights on under my jeans and wished I hadn't left my warm hat in Ayacucho. I paid the airport tax so I would be allowed to fly. I have now encountered this several times and still don't understand why this is not included in the price of the ticket.

So the plane we were going to fly in is too small to hold our whole group of 7, so two of us have to go in another plane (that really tells you just how small these planes are). Adam and I are selected to ride in another plane and soon I can hear the roar of planes taking off. Adam and I say good-bye to our amigos and we go through the security line which simply involved one pass of a hand-held metal detector and a peek inside our bags. We meet our jovial pilot dressed professionally in his pilot uniform and our other three passengers. They were from some Spansish speaking country and one woman was wearing a Dallas Cowboys hat. I tell her I am from Dallas. She smiles. I can tell she doesn´t really care.

Getting more and more nervous by the minute about this flight, we walked down the runway to our plane. The whole walk Adam and I are joking about how old the planes look. The little red fire extinguishers sitting by every plane are not making me feel better. We get to the end of the line of planes to find two of the oldest looking planes. Of course we find out that one of these green and white death traps is ours. The happy pilot insisted that we take several pictures. One all together. One with just me and Adam. A lot of the other passengers. One by the propeller on the front. One sitting in the tiny seats. The other passengers seem way more into taking pictures than we are.

Adam and I get chosen to sit in the back of the plane. There is just enough room for us to sit side by side. No room to spare. I make sure the air sick bag is handy just in case. Considering my apprehension (ugh, rather extreme fear) when in turbulence in big airplanes, I still wasn't sure how I was going to handle this little aircraft. Deep breathing. Happy thoughts. We puttered down the runway and somehow to make it off the ground. Yep, just as scary as I was imagining. One big gust of wind and we would be goners. The plane moved back and forth easily as if we were sledding on a very slippery surface. Panic was over taking me and I looked around the plane with worried eyes. No one else seemed nervous in the least. It would be OK. It would be OK. Somehow I managed to relax slightly and tried to look out of the plane. Ahh, why are we turning at such a drastic angle!! Ahhh, we are going down!

Nope, in fact the pilot was just circling to show us the first set of lines. It would OK. I was looking out of the small plane window at the reddish ground below. I couldn't see these famous lines anywhere. I stared below trying to find it and all of the sudden my eyes focused on the white outline of a whale. Sure enough, there it was.

The pilot navigated us over the various outlines circling high above each figure to the left then to the right. Just as I was growing accustomed to the movement of the plane, the pilot turns around pointing with both hands at a small map of the figures. Shouldn't he have both hands the wheel! Again, I seemed to be the only one concerned about this.

We listened through our headphones above the loud roar of the engine as our pilot narrated first in Spanish then sometimes in English which figure was what. There was a astronaut (though I can't imagine the creators of the lines actually meant for it to be an astronaut...unless of course you are a believer in the aliens created the lines theory), a spider, a monkey, a heron, a tree, a parrot, a hummingbird (my favorite)..and a few others.

I had been looking forward to seeing these lines for much of my time in Peru and the ride was over all too fast. I tried to enjoy the scenery out of the plane. There were clusters of mountains. The flat ground where the lines were had squiggly lines all over it as if dozens of tiny creeks had once flowed there. Though the brown and red land seemed so dry I couldn´t picture much water ever being there. We flew in a near straight line back to the airport with the black asphault of the Pan-American highway below us. At this point I was sure wishing I had taken my Dramamine (or three) this morning. The movements of the little plane had made me so nauseated and the sun beating down on me sure didn´t help. Almost there, almost there.

Before landing, my life flashed before my eyes yet again, but the expert pilot landed us safely. On wobbly legs I stepped out of the plane into the cool, fresh air, and I breathed a big sigh of relieve when my feet were firmly back on the ground. I lived! I lived to tell about it!

I´m Trying to Find It, Pat Green