Sand Dune Boarding in Huacachina
Excerpt from the book Soul Searching in South America from the Teresa the Traveler series.
While in Lima, Monique and I walked into a travel agency to get some ideas about where to visit next. When I saw a picture of this beautiful lagoon surrounded by sand dunes, I knew right away I had to see it. We discovered it was called an oasis called Huacachina located 5 km west of Ica. We booked a 5-hour bus trip to Ica where we took a short taxi ride to this truly unique paradise.
I was surprised by how comfortable the bus was. My only Latin American bus experience to date had been years ago when my friend Carolyn and I backpacked through Central America. I remember riding brightly colored old school buses from one city to another once having to share a seat with an elderly Mayan woman, two kids and a goat. To make matters worse, the road was hot and dusty and the cabin was filled with cigarette smoke.
When we entered the non-smoking, air conditioned bus and walked up to the second level to relax in our spacious reclining seats, I was both relieved and delighted. To ensure our security, all the passengers were videotaped, the luggage was tagged and rules of the bus were played over a television set. The one rule I found a bit odd was regarding the on board bathroom. They requested that people only pee and if they require more, to inform the attendant who will have the bus driver stop either at a nearby washroom or the side of the road.
The safety video was followed by the Zac Efron flick 17 Again which was followed by another: Charlie St. Cloud. In fact all the buses played Zac Efron movies making me wonder if it was law.
While in Lima, Monique and I walked into a travel agency to get some ideas about where to visit next. When I saw a picture of this beautiful lagoon surrounded by sand dunes, I knew right away I had to see it. We discovered it was called an oasis called Huacachina located 5 km west of Ica. We booked a 5-hour bus trip to Ica where we took a short taxi ride to this truly unique paradise.
I was surprised by how comfortable the bus was. My only Latin American bus experience to date had been years ago when my friend Carolyn and I backpacked through Central America. I remember riding brightly colored old school buses from one city to another once having to share a seat with an elderly Mayan woman, two kids and a goat. To make matters worse, the road was hot and dusty and the cabin was filled with cigarette smoke.
When we entered the non-smoking, air conditioned bus and walked up to the second level to relax in our spacious reclining seats, I was both relieved and delighted. To ensure our security, all the passengers were videotaped, the luggage was tagged and rules of the bus were played over a television set. The one rule I found a bit odd was regarding the on board bathroom. They requested that people only pee and if they require more, to inform the attendant who will have the bus driver stop either at a nearby washroom or the side of the road.
The safety video was followed by the Zac Efron flick 17 Again which was followed by another: Charlie St. Cloud. In fact all the buses played Zac Efron movies making me wonder if it was law.
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Adventures in Motor-Taxiing
On the way to Ica I noticed a number of these funky taxis that looked like a cart wrapped around a motorbike. I later found out they were appropriately called motor-taxi’s. I loved them right away and had a burning desire to drive one. Yes, riding in one was not enough for me, I wanted to drive! We booked a dune buggy tour which was not until 4:30pm (after the sand cooled down) giving us the day to explore Huacachina. When Monique and I stumbled upon a motor-taxi, we found the owner and convinced him to let us take it for a spin, which wasn’t easy because he didn’t speak a lick of English and our Spanish was nothing to write home about. It was similar to riding a moped with one handle for acceleration and the other for a clutch and a brake on the floor. After a couple turns around the block we decided to let the owner take us around town at a break neck speed for a tour while we rode in the back hanging on for dear life. With a few hours left before our dune buggy tour, we continued to explore Hauchachina by foot. Featured on the back of Peru’s 50 Nuevo Sol note, this resort town built around a small natural lake in the desert is a popular getaway for local families from Ica and Lima. It is increasingly becoming a popular attraction for international tourists who come to surf on the hundred foot high sand dunes or blast over them in a sand dune buggy. Landowners living near the oasis have drilled wells which have lowered the water levels in the lagoon forcing the city to artificially pump water in to preserve its beauty. The Shower Challenge When I got back to my room to take a shower I wondered what sort of funky water issue I would face. I don’t know what it is about South and Central America but you need a degree in plumbing to use their showers. Every shower seems to have its own unique way of functioning and I use the term “functioning” loosely. In Bogota I had exactly 2 minutes to enjoy warm water before it turned freezing cold. In Lima the shower gave me two minutes of scalding hot water before switching to freezing cold. Upon checking out two days later I discovered that there was a knob above the shower head that could be adjusted to warm thus making the hot water last a bit longer. My shower started out fairly normal but after using up my 2 minutes of water I tried to turn the shower off but to no avail. I spun the knobs in both directions and water continued to flow. Then I saw a sign behind the toilet telling people to shut the taps off by turning them to the middle. It worked but still…WTF? Sand Dune Surfer Girls As we sat by the pool waiting for our tour operator to come grab us we met a couple from Chilliwack waiting for the same tour. How weird is that? We had spent the last few days joking about how the Palomino Islands smelled like Chilliwack and now we were about to go sand boarding with a couple from Chilliwack. This was the law of attraction in all of its glory but why of all things did we need to manifest that? Why couldn’t we have spent our time focusing on getting paid to travel or perhaps winning the lottery? Our guide Richardo finally came for us and packed us into his sand dune buggy – a large vehicle framed with steel tubing that accommodates approximately ten passengers. Never having been in a dune buggy, I had no idea what to expect. Thank God each seat was equipped with a holy shit bar because I spent the majority of the ride clinging to it screaming, “Holy shit”! Our driver kept the pedal to the medal as he flew up and down the sand dunes faster than a rollercoaster. More than once I got that zero-gravity feeling in the pit of my stomach. Once our adrenalin was flowing at maximum capacity, we stopped at the top of a large sand dune for some sand dune-boarding. Much like snowboarding, dune-boarding utilizes similar equipment and requires a similar technique. Unlike the proper equipment that can be rented at shops throughout Hauchachina, ours were simple boards with Velcro bindings to fit over our running shoes - not very easy to stand up with. However they were great to lie down across and slide down the dudes at break-neck speeds and that is exactly what our group did. And by the end of our two-hour tour, there wasn’t a crevice in my body that wasn’t filled with sand. When we got back to the hostel, I jumped in the shower and got ready for my shiatsu massage. |
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For tips on visiting South America CLICK HERE For general travel tips on what to pack and how to plan ahead CLICK HERE For tips on travelling on a budget CLICK HERE |
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The Dirty Massage
I should have warned Monique but for some reason when I saw her in the lobby chatting with the receptionist and she asked me how my massage was, I answered “good”. We had booked shiatsu massages for ourselves earlier in the day thinking it would help us wind down after our sand dune tour. Mine was from 8-9 pm and hers was right after between 9-19 pm. Expecting a female masseuse I was a bit surprised when a large Peruvian man introduced himself as the masseuse. I felt awkward and my gut told me to leave but I followed him anyway trying to tell myself he was a professional and everything would be okay. He led me to a private room with a massage table and instructed me to remove my clothes and he would be back in a few minutes. He also gave me a brief overview of what to expect and it sounded normal to me.
I stripped down to my underwear, which I always leave on during a massage. I figure there is nothing in that region that needs to be massaged by anyone other than my lover. When he came back in I was laying down on my front. He turned on some relaxation music and proceeded to massage my back and neck. The massage was pretty standard and I started to feel bad that I had judged this fellow based on his appearance. Just because he wasn’t the standard petite Asian woman with strong hands that I was accustomed to, it didn’t mean he wasn’t just as capable.
My opinion quickly changed when he began to massage my thighs going as near to my crotch as possible without actually touching me there. Not once but repeatedly until I became uncomfortable and started to tense up.
When he asked me to turn over so he could massage my front I robotically did what I was told despite the fact he did not cover my chest with a sheet as is standard with most therapists. I tried to tell myself things are different in Peru than they are in Canada and that naked massages are normal. He let a fair bit of time pass after I was flipped over before covering my breasts with a hand towel barely large enough to hide my nipples. As he massaged my stomach the towel fell off and when he made no effort to replace it, I did. He then attempted to push my underwear down and that is where I drew my line. I pulled him hand away telling him I did not need to be massaged any lower than my underwear line. I was wearing a low-rise g-string that just covered my hairline. What the...?
He backed off for a bit but when he massaged my thighs, he continued to move his hands farther up than appropriate forcing me to draw a line in my thigh and
telling him to keep his hands below it. The massage ended with him running his hands lightly all over my body in a way that seemed more like the touch of a lover than one of a professional massage therapist. When the massage was over I jumped up eager to get dressed and out of there while he lingered in the room a bit too long telling me to relax, there was no rush.
I should have warned Monique but for some reason when I saw her in the lobby chatting with the receptionist and she asked me how my massage was, I answered “good”. We had booked shiatsu massages for ourselves earlier in the day thinking it would help us wind down after our sand dune tour. Mine was from 8-9 pm and hers was right after between 9-19 pm. Expecting a female masseuse I was a bit surprised when a large Peruvian man introduced himself as the masseuse. I felt awkward and my gut told me to leave but I followed him anyway trying to tell myself he was a professional and everything would be okay. He led me to a private room with a massage table and instructed me to remove my clothes and he would be back in a few minutes. He also gave me a brief overview of what to expect and it sounded normal to me.
I stripped down to my underwear, which I always leave on during a massage. I figure there is nothing in that region that needs to be massaged by anyone other than my lover. When he came back in I was laying down on my front. He turned on some relaxation music and proceeded to massage my back and neck. The massage was pretty standard and I started to feel bad that I had judged this fellow based on his appearance. Just because he wasn’t the standard petite Asian woman with strong hands that I was accustomed to, it didn’t mean he wasn’t just as capable.
My opinion quickly changed when he began to massage my thighs going as near to my crotch as possible without actually touching me there. Not once but repeatedly until I became uncomfortable and started to tense up.
When he asked me to turn over so he could massage my front I robotically did what I was told despite the fact he did not cover my chest with a sheet as is standard with most therapists. I tried to tell myself things are different in Peru than they are in Canada and that naked massages are normal. He let a fair bit of time pass after I was flipped over before covering my breasts with a hand towel barely large enough to hide my nipples. As he massaged my stomach the towel fell off and when he made no effort to replace it, I did. He then attempted to push my underwear down and that is where I drew my line. I pulled him hand away telling him I did not need to be massaged any lower than my underwear line. I was wearing a low-rise g-string that just covered my hairline. What the...?
He backed off for a bit but when he massaged my thighs, he continued to move his hands farther up than appropriate forcing me to draw a line in my thigh and
telling him to keep his hands below it. The massage ended with him running his hands lightly all over my body in a way that seemed more like the touch of a lover than one of a professional massage therapist. When the massage was over I jumped up eager to get dressed and out of there while he lingered in the room a bit too long telling me to relax, there was no rush.
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Yes there was, I needed to get back to my hotel and shower this creepy man off me. My head was cloudy when I saw Monique in the lobby awaiting her turn with the “Peruvian molesta-ssager”. I wanted to warn her, I really did but for some strange reason when she asked me how it was I replied, “Good, I feel like spaghetti.” Then I raced out and walked back to my room as my mind processed what had just happened.
An hour later Monique returned to the hostel and I was almost afraid to ask how her massage was. This was her first professional massage and she was not sure what to expect. Needless to say she found the whole experience rather uncomfortable. She was particularly disturbed by the kiss on the forehead at the end. KISS??? My eyes grew as large as saucers and I shouted, “He kissed you?” She gasped when she realized she had just been taken. Although I think she was a bit relieved to know this was not what a professional massage was supposed to feel like. Just like me, her intuition told her something wasn’t right but she ignored it believing this man to be a professional and thinking he must be following the standard procedure. I wonder if I will ever get over the guilt of not warning Monique that the guy was a creep. I was so excited about the prospect of getting a cheap one hour massage that I didn’t think to ask questions. Lesson learned. Actually I think the bigger lesson here is to listen to my intuition and never think that it is too late to back out of something. The guy was disgusting. Why on earth was I worried about offending him? If I had to do it all over again I would let him know exactly how I felt. Then I would pull a “Champ” on him. I would head-fake him with a bottle of massage oil, then give him so many lefts he’d be begging for a right. While I had him on the floor eating a tile sandwich I would look him in the eyes and say, “Is that enough kiss my buddy on the forehead for you?”- Ever since I’ve been Mrs. Champ. |
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Where I Stayed...
Hostel Curasi Huacachina, Ica, Peru Tel: (056) 216989 – 227682 Cell: 956946333 Single $20US www.huacachinacurasi.com This quiet hostel has rooms located around a courtyard with an outdoor pool. Price includes breakfast 
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How to Get There - Fly to Lima then take the bus to Huacachina.
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