Back on My Bulls**t: Ica, Peru
Glamping gave me a front row seat into our new world order
Back on My Bullshit are intermittent, totally idiosyncratic travelogues. Don’t worry, I give standard recommendations below but this isn’t your mom’s Travel & Leisure city guide.
In some ways, the campsites were identical. Each individual white tent covered a cushy double mattress with two pillows and an extra blanket for the night’s lower temperatures. Over the openings, a different decontextualized decor of non-Peruvian traditions dangled as a welcome sign: a dreamcatcher, a mandala, a sun with groovy rays shooting out of its core. Floor pillows and sturdier fold-out beach chairs circled a crackling fire pit and low wooden tables over rugs served as dinner tables. Touches taken straight out of a swanky yoga studio pulled the whole aesthetic together, which is how I wound up sharing my grilled steak with a mini statue of a Buddha.
But our campsite lacked the DJ, the dance floor, the small stage awaiting a private concert, and the massive flat screen for a Keynote presentation. And that’s because our five-person group had signed up for a night of glamping in the imposing Ica dunes, while their group of twenty-or-so attendees were attending a company-sponsored team-building experience. From the brightly lit logo that welcomed them, I surmised that they worked for a Chinese cell phone brand that’s made major inroads in the Peruvian market by offering a cheaper smartphone alternative to the American products. Their phones targeted gamers and influencers, claiming to offer a better experience for the former and a banger camera for the latter.
I planned this trip a month or so before I lost my job at PBS Kids because the president figured it would make America great to do so. At the time, I was determined to go back to my birthday tradition of traveling solo, a practice I loved because it combined one of my great joys in life with the convenience of not having to plan a big social event, a task that fills me with a rare-for-me form of social anxiety. I chose the Peruvian province of Ica because it was a quick bus ride from Lima and packed a lot into a small territory: oceanside nature preservers, vineyards, and yes, glamping. If you can’t succumb to your most basic bitch tendencies on your birthday, then when can you???? The idea of saying goodbye to one of the most pivotal years of my life in recent memory in the alien-like silence of a vast desert sounded romantic, an apposite setting for my brush with death.
I was not expecting to have a front row seat to our burgeoning new world order when I hit the BOOK NOW button, though it’s silly of me to think I (you, we, anyone) can ever really escape it. My first stop in the touristy town of Paracas was already awash in it. A large chunk of the service industry workers were Venezuelans, part of the 1.6 million immigrants from that country that have arrived in Peru since the Chavez regime. A sustainability conference organized by a Spanish non-profit set up camp in my swanky hotel, where I stuck out in my bathing suit while people in casual business attire walked briskly from one session to the next. Spain has always had a major presence in Peru, with both private corporations, non-profits, and public partnerships operating heavily within our borders.
And now here, in the middle of the Peruvian desert, was China showing its might. I often joke that Latin America fares better when the US forgets we exist, but I don’t know enough about China to make any real sweeping generalizations. It’s difficult to do so, when I am witnessing it in real time. The Chinese government doesn’t have a great track record when it comes to human rights or environmental concerns, so I’m not buying into any narrative that points to it as a better alternative. Nevertheless, the idea of American dominance is starting to feel as part of the past. I know it sounds like an inaccurate over correction, given the amount of damage unleashed on the world by Trump’s erratic decisions on tariffs and his disastrous approach to foreign affairs. Back in May, when I went on this trip, Peru was holding its breath to see what kind of nonsensical monetary punishment would be levied against us, if any.
And yet! For the past year, I had barely heard of any major American investment in Peru, whether in the private or public sectors. Instead, the daily news reported on the first Latin American megaport being built in Chancay, a small town a few hours away from the capital. Though it began as a Peruvian enterprise, the Chinese company COSCO SHIPPING Ports bought a majority of shares. This aligns nicely with China’s Belt and Road Initiative, whose objective is to implement a modern maritime Silk Road through major infrastructure projects. In recent years, China has transformed itself into the #1 commercial partner in the region. It’s the top commercial partner in Peru.
United States, who?
Seated around a bonfire, my glamping group and I spied on the festivities happening below. I was the sole Peruvian, the others being a married Polish couple and two American bros. At first, the evening was quiet as the corporate employees ate dinner and watched a presentation we could barely hear. We chatted about our lives. I told the group about my reasons for coming back to Peru after so many years in the States, offering my personal reasons (family, creative projects) and financial ones (cost of living). The two American bros worked in health care. One of them actually worked for UnitedHealthcare. “The vibes are bad,” he answered, when I asked what it was like after the Luigi of it all. The Polish couple were both doctors. We spent hours horrifying them with tales of the American health care system.
Once the DJ started spinning hits, we turned our attention to the party below. Over on the dance floor, the employees reveled. No one was worried about acting unprofessionally. Drinks flowed, perreo occured, and there were frequent dance circles with the mandatory “EH-EH-EH”. (If you’ve ever been to a Latino party, you know exactly what I’m talking about.) A few hours later, the DJ stopped and introduced that night’s performer: Renata Flores, the Peruvian rapper who sings in Quechua and blends traditional sounds with modern genres. The employees crowded around her, showing no signs of ending the night early.
My (former career diplomat) dad once told me that the big difference between working with the US and working with China is that the US always wanted to impose some sort of principle or culture on the populace abroad. China didn’t give a fuck what you did as long as you’re keeping your end of the bargain. I thought of the US-based company that had disinvited the Gay Choir of Lima from singing at their holiday party after Trump was elected because it could be misconstrued as a DEI initiative, a mini scandal that rippled through Lima because of how retro and cucufato it felt, not to mention it was a disturbing sign of what was to come from the administration. I texted one of my US-based group chats about what I was witnessing. One of my friends texted: “I would die before going on an overnight camping trip with my co-workers.” The American bros joked about how they went to great depths to never even be seen with a drink at their company events. I thought of how the employees from this Chinese company would describe their glamping trip. I would bet most of my money that their answer would be: “BRA-VA-ZO.”
We gawked at the party for hours, but grew weary when the clock hit 10 and we still had not enjoyed the quietude we had signed up for. Being the native Peruvian, the group assigned me as their de facto ambassador to ask the tour guide whether the party was ever going to end. “The DJ is out by 11 pm,” he promised me. I worried the corporate overlords would engage in the local practice of paying the DJ extra until the wee hours of the night. But at 11 on the dot, the DJ spun his last tune and everyone filed back to their tents. That’s how you know their manager isn’t Peruvian, I thought to myself wryly.
I spent the rest of the weekend in a vineyard, reading one book after another by the adults-only pool. There was a smattering of older Americans, expats who lived in Lima but worked for the Embassy or US-based companies and were enjoying the long Memorial Day Weekend. They were pleasant, polite, and a little finicky about food. They were also older than most of the travelers I encountered. Some were close to retirement. Not wanting to drive themselves or take the intercity buses, they left in sprint vans, where a cautious chauffeur and a tour guide made sure everyone was safe and accounted for.
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Where to Stay
Aranwa Paracas Resort & Spa was clean and airy. Though the hotel and the town itself are right on the ocean, the water isn’t apt for swimming because it also functions as a fishing village and port. Therefore, I appreciated the vast pools spread over the grounds, especially when I wanted to get away from people hehe.
Duna Camp might have unintentionally thwarted my chuggy dreams but I still loved the experience! Before taking you to camp, the guides race over the dunes in sand buggies and teach brave souls how to sandboard. (I am firmly against any adventure sports, more so after my brush with death. But I did like seeing my fellow travelers gliding down the banks.) My mattress was comfy, food was good, and the porta potties worked.
Hotel Viñas Queirolo is idyllic. Year-round sunshine? Check! Excellent on-site restaurant? Double check! A pisco and wine tasting tour that’ll leave you buzzed? Triple check! An adults-only swimming pool? You best your fine ass!
Imagine me completely unaware of my own beauty as I look out from my window at this stunning sunset.
Where to Go
The main reason to go to Paracas is to take a tour of the Islas Ballestas and the National Reserve. The islands feature an abundance of wildlife in such a small space. Think lounging sea lions, waddling pelicans, and penguins marching about their day. A series of remote beaches make up the National Reserve, including the much-boasted about Red Beach, which is even better live.
Diosito, please let me be reincarnated as one of these sea lions in my next life
Where to Eat and Drink
Waiki Pizza Bar (Paracas). This laid back, beach bum decorated shack serves a wide variety of individual and family-sized pizzas and great local beers to boot. Plus, it’s vegetarian friendly.
I’m a sucker for funghi
Restaurante Reserva (Paracas). A menu catering to people craving seafood or pasta or both. I was dying for carbonara and a glass of wine, so I can only speak to half of their offerings, but they do work with local fishermen to source their products.
The best thing about traveling off-season is that no one is there to ruin your dinner.
Puerto Specialty Coffee (Paracas). Great coffee and avocado toasts for when you want to ruin a Boomer’s morning by posting about what you’re doing with your money instead of saving for a starter home.
This is why I can’t afford nice things.
Wild Olive (Huacachina). Housed in a backpacker’s hostel, this restaurant brings out portions to satisfy a 6ft, 250 pound Brit on his way to a bender. Which, fair! It is their target demographic. Should I have eaten all this before going on a dune buggy? Probably not! But it was so savory, I couldn’t stop.
Maybe save this for AFTER the roller coaster sand dune experience.
Restaurante El Intipalka (Hotel Viñas Queirolo): Everything I ate at this restaurant, including the lavish breakfast buffet, was well-executed. But what I enjoyed was their many filling and delectable salads, which are often an afterthought in Peruvian restaurants. I think I ate a different salad every day for lunch during my stay.
Are those greens I see??????
