The Nazca lines, the mysterious and enormous figures traced on the terrain of the high plane near Nazca, await me. With a flight on a 6-seater airplane that jolts at top speed over the desert expanse. But let’s take a step back.
It is 10 a.m. and I am waiting for the agency driver to pick me up at the hostel. As always, I am ready as early as half an hour before. I hate being late. He doesn’t!
The flight is supposed to be at 11 a.m. and at 10:30 a.m. still no one shows up.
Fortunately, the day before the guide left me her whatsapp number for any emergencies. So I text her. She replies that she is on her way-yes, they forgot about me!!! An empty bus arrives super late, I am the only one (the others are already at the airport).
Pre-flight formalities taken care of, I prepare to go through the controls of one of the smallest airports I have ever seen.
I forget my Swiss Army knife in my backpack and risk missing my flight 🙂
Race to catch it and off we go.
I can’t see the first line…I don’t understand anything…a compass…bho!
But the others can be seen very well from above. The monkey, the cat, etc., etc.
Flying in such a small airplane awakens old memories…I enjoy the flight…even if it jolts a lot.
The bus takes me back to the city, I have to wait 7 hours for the bus, all I have to do is wander around the city, among people who look at me strangely, tiny but modified cars to the max, cabs splaying me and a sun that cooks my skin…everything is perfect, even the backpack that turns my back into a waterfall…I am happy!