Gotta love them lines

As part of my eternity of bus rides back to Lima, I saw the mysterious Nazca Lines this morning. I did the usual thing, which is to show up at any hotel in Nazca and say, well, actually you don't have to say anything. They know why you're there but will politely nod as you explain your trite desires, before sending you off on your 35 minute overflight of the high Pampas. My pilot was Eduardo or Juan or something and my plane was, I think, a Cessna 172 (Dad?). I enjoyed the flight a bit more than the lines, which are hard to see. But I do see why people like flying small craft so much. My brother took lessons once. I wonder if he misses that, because I think I might like to now. My favorite figure was the monkey. I think it's everyone's favorite.

I am back in Lima now, after taking a bus that connected at the recently pulverized city of Ica. For the epicenter of an earthquake, it doesn't look that much more devastated than the status quo for most Andean cities. It even has a palatial Chinese restaurant, still open for business. I leave South America in two days. I feel that my time here has provided me some of the most spectacular scenery and most interesting company of all my trips to date, which is a hard feat. I recommend a visit to all. I will offer only one piece of advice: whenever you look out the window of a bus here, you will see a dog relieving itself.