(George)

Surviving yet another white-knuckle bus ride, we jumped off the coach in The White City (aka Arequipa). Home to around 900,000 people, the city stands at 2,335m and is the capital of the Arequipa region. Wasting no time in the lacklustre bus station, we quickly hailed a taxi to take us to a beautiful boutique hotel that sported feature walls of awe-inspiring landscapes in each of the rooms (a touch that really struck a chord with our resident interior designer, Jackie Woodall). Learning that Arequipa's name is actually derived from the Quecha words 'Ari qhipay', meaning 'Yes, stay!', we quickly dropped our bags off and headed out to explore the city.

Having visited countless impressive cities on our travels, we have acquired some high standards when it comes to colonial architecture. However, we must give credit where credit is due. Arequipa's baroque style buildings stand defiant against the silhouette of El Misti and Chanchani, two of three volcanoes surrounding the city. The white buildings adopted a pinkish hue as the sun began to set, inducing a vibrancy that radiated around every corner. As is often the case in beautiful places, there is something that impedes your ability to enjoy the moment. This time, my eye was drawn to a dishevelled looking man perched on a bench in the main square. At first glance, he may have appeared as the village drunk enjoying an afternoon in the sun. However, as I was about to turn my head, I noticed him lift something very peculiar towards his mouth. With great enthusiasm, the man proceeded to kiss and cuddle a pigeon he had managed to capture from the surrounding area. Tamara and I shared a glance of uncertainty, we thought we'd seen it all…

With the pigeon's welfare questionable, we decided to leave the square and hunt for the local tour guides. Arequipa is a great spot for travellers to enjoy some extreme sports in the surrounding mountainous terrain. After some deliberation between ourselves, our choice had been whittled down to two options: condor spotting or white water rafting. It's important to note that seeing a condor soar above the Andean valleys is firmly cemented on Jackie's bucket list, however travelling with three thrill seekers, Jackie conceded and the decision was made to take on the river. Like all good trips in South America, an early start was required as we made our way from our hotel into the nearby hills. Prepped with wetsuits and sun-cream, we headed down to the river bank to our awaiting chariot. Each equipped with a paddle, our guide ran through the safety talk. "No horseplay." He warned us. "Yer, alright mate…" The journey started out in smooth water, allowing us to get our sea legs as we floated atop the gentle stream. Despite this, the niceties weren't to last. Within minutes we were being hurled between jagged rocks, as foaming water jumped and sprayed in our faces. Pocket-sized rainbows formed before our eyes as the jets of water turned into mist. Visibility was minimal but laughter abounded. Several times we nearly ended up in the drink but our watchful guide made sure we navigated the rapids safely. We finished the trip in one piece and gladly hopped back in the warm van waiting to take us back to the hotel.

The next day started lazily. Our bodies were still exhausted from the rafting as we sluggishly made our way down to the cosy hotel dining area. Checking the itinerary for the day, our eyes lit up as we saw what we were in store for. We had been enrolled on the Peruvian Cooking Experience at one of the nearby hotels! In all our eagerness to get started, we arrived at the hotel far earlier than any of the other guests. Waiting impatiently, we wondered what might be on the menu. Would we be grilling up one of our furry alpaca friends? Or would we be chowing down on one of Jackie's magical condors? Fear not readers back home, for we did not. Instead, we were enlisted on the Andean cooking menu where we created the magical dishes of Solterito and Rocoto Relleno. Solterito Arequipeño is a traditional chopped salad consisting of Andean corn, fava bean and chilli peppers. Usually presented as an appetiser, the word solterito actually translates to 'little man' as it is considered the perfect meal for a single man. For our main course, the mighty Rocoto Relleno was next in line. With the rocoto being the most common chilli pepper in the region (10x hotter than jalapeños when raw), Mark and I were eager to get started on our dishes. The name of the dish literally translates to 'stuffed pepper' and the recipe did not deviate from this title. The peppers were crammed full of meat and enough cheese to block an artery. Stuffing our faces, we enjoyed our creations with the other guests, sharing travel stories and experiences. With the night drawing in and our bellies bursting at the seams, we finally made our way back to the hotel for our last sleep under the Arequipan stars.

Our next bus left Arequipa bus station at 22:00. An 8-hour journey stood between us and a destination I have known about for some time. During my childhood, I read a multitude of suspense and thriller novels. One of my favourite authors at the time, Anthony Horowitz, introduced me to a villain I still remember to this day. Diego Salamanda, a Peruvian billionaire set on bringing fascist reform to the world. In this fictional universe, Diego had a plan to open a portal to the spirits of the "Old Ones", evil beings that would assist him in his wicked plan. Little did we know that the portal to these foul creatures spanned the entirety of the Nazca desert. In the days before a quick google search, I had often wondered what this desert would look like. The novel highlighted the mystery of lines spanning the length of the desert, making rudimentary outlines of animals and figures. When coordinating our trip with Jackie and Mark, I knew that I had to get this destination on our list.

As with any town near a tourist attraction, all the local amenities seem to share a common theme. Nazca was no different, as each hotel and restaurant was draped in imagery of the Lines and desert. After some trouble getting ourselves into a hotel, we finally managed to check our bags into DM Hoteles Nazca. Looking out of the hotel reception, Tamara and I nearly jumped for joy when we saw what was on offer. A beautiful swimming pool within a spacious courtyard had us racing to get changed for a well-earned swim. The rest of the day was spent relaxing by the pool, however it wasn't long before Mark and I wanted to find out who was the ultimate table-tennis champion. With less than suitable conditions for a fair contest, we began to battle it out. Trick shots and cunning made up the bulk of Mark's tactics, as I attempted to play a more honourable game. It was only when we could not agree whether a serve was supposed to be played across the table as opposed to being delivered to the same side (check the rule book, Mark), we finally retired ourselves to get ready for the evening's entertainment.

One unique selling point of our hotel, beyond the scope of the swimming pool and table-tennis, was the Planetario Maria Reiche. The planetarium, a dome-shaped building on the hotel grounds, stood in tribute to Maria Reiche, a woman who devoted her life to uncovering the mysteries of the lines. Offering informative talks on the origins of the Nazca Lines, the planetarium opened in the evening to display a short but riveting film. The story of the lines is shrouded in mystery. Theories abound as to their origins, with reasoning ranging from religious practice to the work of extra-terrestrial beings. Once finished, we headed outside to the car park where a high-powered telescope had been set up for us to observe the night sky. Our first galactic port of call was the moon. A cloudless night permitted an unhindered view of our cosmic companion as its blemishes and scars were laid bare before us. Next stop was Saturn, its fabled rings were on display in all their glory as we each clambered over one another to have a look through the eye piece. The night had been a brilliant introduction to the enigmatic area, and with our minds full of wonder and intrigue we readied ourselves for another big day - our private flight over the Nazca Lines.

I awoke with a feeling of trepidation. After reading reviews of the Nazca Lines tour, I noticed a trend of people complaining of extreme motion sickness. Despite having never suffered from motion sickness in my life, I needed to prepare myself and insisted that we stop off to buy some tablets. Luckily, my nerves were reciprocated amongst the group and we all decided the purchase to be a good idea. Arriving at the Maria Reiche Neuman Airport, I could feel the anticipation rising in my chest. A quick glance out at the runway saw rickety cessnas bumping along the tarmac. I squeezed Tamara's hand in a combined gesture of reassurance and terror. Finally, our numbers were up and we were ushered across to our plane. With two pilots seated in the front and the rest of us piled into the back, we taxied across the airfield to our starting point. "5, 4, 3, 2, 1" The rising drone of the propellers matched our increasing adrenaline as the plane began to pull away. With the end of the runway creeping ever closer, I wondered if we were destined to leave the ground. In the nick of time, the pilot pulled back his joystick, sending us on an upward trajectory to the skies.

Serene views welcomed us as the expanse of the Nazca desert effortless sprawled across our field of view. Not even the ominous sound of the plane creaking through the air could spoil such a beautiful moment. After a few minutes of gawping out of the window, our co-pilot began to speak to us through our headsets - we had reached the first of the Nazca lines. In order to give us the best view possible, our pilot banked the plane to either side allowing each of us the opportunity to look directly down on the geoglyphs. From start to finish, we were shown all of the magnificent creatures that had been etched in to the deserts surface, with animals ranging from the aquatic whale to the enigmatic condor. However, our cultural journey was not to end so abruptly. The pilots were both kind enough to offer us an extension to our tour free of charge. Halfway through our trip, we began to take a detour to the lesser known Palpa lines. Pre-dating the Nazca lines by roughly 1000 years, the Palpa lines consist of a collection of caricature figures emblazoned on a hillside. Whilst not comparable in terms of grandeur, the Palpa lines provoke just as much wonder as their Nazca counterparts. With our appetites for ancient rock carvings satiated, it was time to return to the airport for a white knuckle landing and a comparatively relaxing taxi journey back to the hotel.

Our journey out of Nazca was seamless. A quick stop at the ground-level, viewing platform of the Palpa lines and the Maria Reiche Neuman Museum (one can never know enough about geoglyphs), and we were ready to reach our next destination. Nestled amongst the sand dunes of the Ica Province, Huacachina is a small village centred around a small oasis, and despite only having a permanent population of 100 people it can see tens of thousands of tourists each year. The main attraction for travellers are the everchanging sand dunes, with tours and trips being sold out of every hostel and hotel in the village. Determined not to miss out on the fun, we quickly dropped our bags and arranged for a buggy and sand-boarding tour. Having spent a peaceful evening in a restaurant around the lake, we were eager to get out across the dunes. Arriving at our tour guides showroom, our eyes lit up as we saw a vehicle that could only have been spat out of the Mad Max universe. The demonic looking buggy was fit with extra-large tyres, a roll cage and had the entire engine and chassis on display. As our driver fired up the beast, I noticed a sudden whitening cross Jackie's face. Taking a deep breath, we strapped ourselves in and headed out to the desert.

If the buggy had been spewed out of Mad Max's world, then we were journeying right back into it. Within minutes of hitting the dunes, our driver turned things up a gear as we began careering through the golden valleys. The wind ripped through our hair as we were thrown left and right with little warning. The ride culminated in a high speed approach to the dune's peak, only to stop on the edge and slowly creep over into a near vertical plummet. Wishing we'd saved some motion sickness tablets from our Nazca flight, I glanced over at Jackie who looked to be having a hard time. Her usual composure had all but disintegrated as her hair was whipped across her blanched face. Her screams had been stolen by the wind, as it was only when we stopped at the top of another peak did we hear her cries for help. Reversing back to safety, our driver allowed us to get out of the vehicle. However, on Jackie's side she still had a clear view of the gaping drop. In an act of determination, fitting of Lawrence of Arabia, Jackie clambered out of the buggy and proceeding to walk in what she thought was the direction of Huacachina. Our less than sympathetic drivers took a moment to laugh between themselves as they warned her she was going in the opposite direction to the oasis and offered her time to sit down on the sand. It was at this point, with Jackie catching her breath, that we moved onto our next activity - sand-boarding.

Three splintered pieces of wood, vaguely resembling the shape of a snowboard were unclipped from the back of the buggy. After a quick tutorial in broken English, we each lined up with our boards hanging over the precipice. With one swift motion, we pushed ourselves off, landing with our chest over the centre of the board. Leaving our fate to gravity, we began to hurtle down the wall of sand. We gained speed at an alarming rate, the sand buffeted our face and got into our eyes but the thrill of the ride had gripped us. We whooped and hollered, wishing we could go faster. It was only when we reached the bottom did we regret our screaming as our teeth mouths were laden with dust. Meeting up with Jackie and our drivers again, I explained to them that we needed to go a little slower, to which they laughed and fired up the engines. Fortunately for Jackie, our request was taken on board and we enjoyed a more pleasurable passage through the dunes. The remaining time we had on the dunes was spent finding more cliff faces to board down and we were lucky enough to witness one of the most spectacular sunsets of the entire trip. With our energy stores running low, we returned to the sanctuary of the oasis and got ourselves some much needed rest.

Our tour with Jackie and Mark was drawing to a close, however there was one more destination on our schedule before we returned to Lima. Paracas, a small beach town, is a popular destination for Peruvians and backpackers alike. Promising tranquillity and peace, it seemed like the perfect opportunity for us to unwind after our action packed few weeks. However… I'm sure by now, those of you at home can guess that things don't run this smoothly in South America. Arriving at our private apartment, we were shocked at what we found. The off-white walls were covered in the spattered remnants of mosquitos. The congealed blood from their last meal lay smeared across work surfaces and bed sheets and a thick film of dust had settled, leaving none of us willing to sit down. All eyes turned to Jackie, "Please say we don't have to stay here!" We silently prayed. Luckily, with her standards for cleanliness set beyond that of your average individual, Jackie put her foot down and was straight onto the phone to our accommodation provider. A feigned attempt to set things right involved the landlord sending round a disinterested cleaner but we knew the damage was done. It would take multiple days and some of Bespoke's finest cleaning equipment to get this place habitable again. With a flurry of decisive words to the property owner and a catalogue of pictures for evidence, we picked up our bags and promptly left. Though we had made our trip out of season, we were relieved to find that one of the luxury resorts was still open for business just down the road. Settling into our spacious and immaculately clean rooms, we breathed a sigh of relief and finally put our feet up.

With a few days lounging by the pool (or learning advanced chess tactics in my room), we felt ready for another tour. The Ballestas Islands are formed of closely grouped rocky formations. They are home to a diverse range of animals including sea lions, Humboldt penguins and blue-footed boobies (yes, Dad. I know you used to go out with her). The tour consisted of a boat ride from the Paracas port. On our way to the island, we encountered yet another geoglyph, El Candelabro. This particular motif forms the shape of a candelabrum and is a whopping 181m long. Like most of the geoglyphs in the area its origins are unclear, although some suggest it was used by sailors as a beacon for landfall. Whatever its purpose it certainly looked impressive. Upon arriving at the islands, we began to see flocks of birds circling the jagged rocks. The site was spectacular from afar and maybe would have been better appreciated from such a distance for as we drew closer, a foul stench of urine and faeces knocked us back. My eyes widened as I realised that what I thought had been white rocks from the distance actually turned out to be the white cliffs of bird poo. Despite the overbearing threat of being defecated on, we enjoyed watching sea lions bask on the rocks and a welcome visit from a pod of dolphins provided the icing on the cake.

(Tamara) We returned to Lima for a final two days with Mum and Dad before they flew back to England. Having already explored the city, we decided we should end our trip together doing what we do best...eating. We spent the last evening wining and dining and George even plucked up the courage to play a game of outdoor chess, whilst the locals curiously looked on. Since their flight was first thing in the morning, the Woodalls had vanished by the time we awoke and the Wozzles were again left to their own devices. With one week left of our travels, we decided to escape civilisation for one last time and ventured out into the Amazon for our final adventure. Iquitos, although the world's largest city, is only accessible by boat or plane and claims to offer travellers a glimpse of a "vibrant jungle metropolis". Also regarded as a hippy haven, the area allows for tired backpackers to recharge their batteries and kick back in a relaxed environment. Believe it or not, backpacking really is hard work! We checked in to our hostel and set out to explore the local market, hoping to get some last-minute gifts for our loved ones at home. Having experienced local markets all over the world, I can hands down say that I will not forget this one in a hurry. The market itself appeared to be sinking into thick mud and the produce itself was undoubtedly engulfed in bacteria and dirt. The stench followed us around the market, as did unkept hands desperately seeking some money. A quick nod of the head and we made our escape, our hunt for presents would have to wait until another day. We hurried back to the hostel and quickly jumped into the queue for the showers to cleanse ourselves after that disgusting encounter. We spent the next day exploring and decided to take a boat trip to a nearby animal rescue. A dugout canoe was selected for us and we set out, passing by mud-huts precariously balanced on wooden tilts. As we arrived at our destination, we were told that the rescue wasn't open to the public and that our driver really should have been aware of this. We rolled our eyes; would we ever get tired of local businessmen just trying to get our money on this trip? The owner could sense our disappointment and offered to take us around the rescue herself. At least there was some good left in humanity! The rescue was full of spectacular animals; monkeys, large cats, parrots and a wonderful butterfly enclosure. We even learnt that the colour of the butterfly's wings is dependent on the type of plant that they eat. Nan, remember this - it may crop up as a question on the CHASE one day! With an ever-growing sense that our trip was coming to an end, we decided to kick back and soak up the chilled ambience for our last remaining days in the jungle. Despite the mosquitos driving me crazy, my heart sank when I knew it was time to leave. Returning to Lima for the third time, we checked into our last accommodation and spent the evening reflecting on our adventures. Unfortunately, we were unable to fly home together which felt very strange. Nonetheless, we couldn't wait to get back to share our adventures with our loved ones.