PERU
I t’s the early hours of the morning. But instead of landing somewhere in Peru, we’re flying over an endless desert.
I don’t comment, sharing an anticipated moment with the Pillar and his chauffeur. So are the children in the back. They’re fascinated with the desert, which at first confuses me since there is nothing to see but sand.
Then I realize that the kids have never been out of Mushroomland. This, to them, is their first vacation abroad.
And boy, they love it.
“Where are we really going?” I ask.
“We’ve arrived,” the Pillar says, his eyes scanning the vast earth below. “We’re looking for our landing spot.”
“Couldn’t we just land anywhere? Besides, I thought we were going to Peru.”
“There is a bag with a lot of candy in it, kids.” The Pillar changes the subject. “Open it up.” Oh, he isn’t even talking to me. “And there are drinks, too.”
I watch the kids happily gorge on the candy, which is shaped like a caterpillar sitting on top of a mushroom.
I finish my candy. It’s delicious. I have the children with me, and we’re following clues to stop the plague. I think I’m good for now if only someone would tell me why we’re here in the desert, looking for that Dodo location.
All of a sudden, the desert turns from plain void into an artistic land full of immense drawings. Large artworks that have been etched into the landscape. How? I have no idea.
“They’re called geoglyphs,” the Pillar says. “Best viewed from above. Actually, you wouldn’t grasp what the drawing is about if you stand amidst it.”
My candy drops to the floor. My mouth agape. I am stunned.
“This desert plateau stretches more than eighty kilometers long. Geologists prefer to call it the Nazca Lines,” the Pillar continues. “Many believe the Nazca Lines were created by the Nazca culture around 500 BC.”
“It’s that old?” I say while the kids compete for the best view from the top.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” the Pillar says. “Makes you wonder how such an old civilization possessed the craft and knowledge to create something like that.”
“What does it mean?”
“That’s the centuries-old multi-million dollar question. Just look at the hummingbirds, spiders, monkeys, fish, sharks, orcas, and lizards meticulously crafted on the bed of the earth. No one has any idea what they mean.”
“How were they made then?” one of the kids questions.
“The real answer is ‘We don’t know.’” The Pillar bites on his cigar. I wonder if he’s going to stuff this one in someone else’s throat. “But common assumption is that the shallow lines were made in the ground by removing the reddish pebbles and uncovering the grayish ground beneath.”
When I look closer, I see hundreds of other shapes, most of animals; birds, fish, llamas, jaguars, monkeys, or human figures. There are also what look like trees and flowers. What strikes me as odd is that most of them look like a geometric design, carefully planned and executed.
“This is incredible,” I say. “How did the drawings survive all the time?”
“Again, common knowledge is that it’s due to its isolation and the dry and stable climate. There is hardly any wind in this area of Peru,” the Pillar says.
“So they have been naturally preserved?”
The kids ask me what this means. I try to explain while listening to the Pillar continue his education. Then one of the kids asks the Pillar, “Did the Nazca have planes?”
“Smart kiddo,” the Pillar says. “No, they didn’t—or so we think. And although the lines shouldn’t necessarily be seen from planes—they can be seen from surrounding foothills, too—it still poses the bigger question...”
I cut in and say, “Why were they created and for whom?