We smile inside when a fellow traveller confides: “You know, I really want to get off the Gringo Trail...”

As the tourist munches on their slice of tourist price pizza, we nod in sympathy, but wonder whether they would fare so well off the Gringo Trail.

We travellers talk of The Gringo Trail with an unspoken understanding of this creature meandering through the wilds of South America. The travellers bible, the Lonely Planet provides no specific definition of The Gringo Trail, although it does advise, “If your travel philosophy disdains all things explored, trodden and smacking of the Gringo Trail ... then stay away from the places mentioned here...”

In common usage, The Gringo Trail, appears to refer to a route that isn´t set, but includes Lima, the Nazca Lines, and Arequipa before all roads and paths converge on Cusco. Tourists join with hundreds of others to hike the Inca Trail, then forge onto Lake Titicaca, onwards and upwards to La Paz, from where they plunge to new depths in the mines of Potosi before the sheer enormity of the Salar de Uyuni blows them right on into Chile.

Within all of us lurks a soul who yearns for something different, and indeed for many, an “adventure tour” to the jungle, mountains or canyons is sufficient.   Others suspect that there could be more to adventure – but in all honesty - to get off The Gringo Trail means foregoing many activities that those on the road find so gratifying.

There are no other tourists. At the end of the day there is no one to share a convivial cerveza while you swap advice of where to stay, or which transport company to avoid.

In many cases, there is only one transport  company, whose dilapidated mud covered mobilidad* barely looks like it will make around the corner. Sometimes after a cough and splutter it doesn’t. Buses feature seats broken in recline, with springs that conveniently dig into your buttocks. When the temperature exceeds 40 degrees in the shade, the nearest window is stuck shut. Or when you are travelling in the high Andes it is sure to be broken open

The buses run on Peruano time.  So, chances are you left an hour or so behind schedule. After three or four hours,  you begin to develop whiplash caused by the jagged, hapharzard stops for passengers gathered along the roadside.   Larger items are heaved onto the roof, while brightly coloured bundles are dragged into the bus to provide additional seating or merely obscure the aisle.  Other sacks are carried cautiously on board. Only when you see a small puddle developing you realise that its some kind of animal, perhaps a pig, for chickens are usually distinguished by their chatter throughout the duration of the journey.

Watching local people climb onboard and then exit a few dusty hours later tends wear a little thin after ten hours. Not to worry, the people working for the company  have assured you that they are always on time, and it is only a eight hour bus trip!

When the bus finally arrives in a dark ghostlike town, bereft of street lights and thus appearing eerie and abandoned, it is the most that your exhausted bones can do but crawl to the nearest accomodation.

The Author

Ariana Svenson is a photojournalists whohas spent the last six years travelling, often with her mother. She has lived in Cusco, Peru, for three years and only realises how little she knows about the country!

Cusco - the travellers Mecca of South America

Colourful souvenir vendor, Chinchero

The Koricancha, Temple of the Sun

Copyright Ariana Svenson, 2005 - Comments and enquiries, please email us.