Today was a lazy day. We ate, slept and of course, Dan and I played table football. We said our final goodbyes to our good friends Tom and Sarah over a chocolate smoothie and later returned back to our hostel to watch the World Cup. In the evening, we left the fine city of Arequipa and took an overnight bus to Nazca (Lima is getting ever closer). 
We arrived at 5 30am (earlier than expected) to the bus terminal. There was a woman standing patiently outside awaiting vulnerable backpackers with money to spend – prey. Unfortunately we were the prey, and once she had tightened her grip on us, we were unable to escape. She flew us back to her nest (hostel) and told us all about the flights that were running over the Nazca lines. At 6am we were sold and at 9am were driven to the airport. We paid an annoyingly large sum of money for a short flight in a 4 man plane and spent the next half an hour flying over the various inexplicable lines that have been carved into the dry ground years ago. It was fascinating, and to this day no one knows how or why they were formed. Some of them are as large as 300m. Towards the end of the flight, all of us were feeling slightly woozy, but luckily all was fine and we left the airport with a nice congratulatory certificate. 
Nazca is one of those places where you get in and get out without spending any extra unnecessary time. Nazca is only famous for the Nazca lines and definitely not for the ugly, bland town which is depressing to be in for more than a day. For this reason, we left as soon as possible – direction Ica. We took a 2 hour bus which was made far more enjoyable by the Spanish version of Madagascar which was playing on the tiny monitor. In Nazca, we had tried booking accommodation online however everything seemed full. We searched for an hour looking for reasonably priced hostels but to no avail. So, when we arrived in Ica, we booked the first hostel that we saw. This happened to be the reputed bus terminal hostel (famous for its national connections and 24 hour attitude). We chose the ‘room with a view’ overlooking all the nicely aligned coaches. It will do for one night.
Unexpectedly we had quite a comfortable nights sleep above the buses. They hardly made any noise at all. We left the bus terminal in the morning and took a taxi to Huacachina, a tiny town surrounded by sand dunes. The scenery was incredible however the town was slightly disappointing – very badly maintained with litter and bricks scattered about the streets. In the afternoon, Dan and I went sand boarding and buggying as Joanna was not feeling well. It was absolutely brilliant, far better than we had anticipated. An old man (who looked about 80) was our driver. He was crazy! He drove up and down the dunes like a madman. Sand-boarding was also great fun, although quite nerve-racking at some points. You reach high speeds and there are some bumps in the sand that you can’t see which really do hurt. A few people who were lying down on the boards flew off and I’m amazed there weren’t any broken bones. We returned to the hostel with adrenalin still pumping and had a delicious burger in front of the football. Our plan was to go to a bar and have a few drinks after however we all fell asleep fully clothed around 10pm. Sandboarding had drained us. 
The following day, I climbed up to the top of a sand dune with some French Canadian friends from the hostel. The view was very cool although slightly marred by the thought that kept circling in my mind about the prospect of England losing against Uruguay. I needed time to mentally prepare myself. We need a victory!
I cannot believe it! We have lost again. What a terrible game! Dan and I sulked for the rest of the evening in complete disillusionment with our nation’s football team. 
The following day, Dan was feeling quite sick and so for the first time in 2 months I left Dan and Joanna and took my final South American bus to the nation’s capital – Lima. Hopefully they will join me tomorrow. I took a taxi to Miraflores (the tourist district of Lima) and met some very cool Australian guys in my hostel who confronted me with the news that England had been kicked out of the World Cup. It was devastating. Such a disappointment. The first time England have not made it through the group stages since 1958. We had some beers together after (to try and forget the terrible news) and later took part in the highly anticipated weekly table tennis tournament. Unfortunately, I had to play my new ozzy friends in the first two rounds. I showed no remorse and after a tense game I came out victorious. The second game was just as intense and amazingly I won. The third round was tough. I was against one of the hostel workers who is a keen ping-pong player. I managed to scrape a victory and he left the table in sheer embarrassment that an outsider had won. I was in the finals! Either way I was winning a free beer. My opponent was a Swiss man of high table tennis repute, this would be tricky. He won convincingly but it was a great achievement to make it that far in the competition. We all went out to some bars and clubs later in the evening which was really good fun. You are always guaranteed a good night when you go out with Australians. They are crazy.
The Travelling Fox 