The reason I’d decided to go flying on a hangover was in order to see the infamous Nazca Lines of Peru, which lie in a huge stretch of desert 200km away from the capital city of Lima.
As I followed the tiny shadow of our plane edging closer to the huge outline of a condor, I felt like the strangest sort of tourist: looking down on modern technology and ancient ritual, separated by centuries yet sitting literally side by side.
It’s sobering to realise that these ancient markings have lasted for hundreds of years but modern-day activity is repeatedly jeopardising them.
From my Cessna window seat, I could almost pretend I was seeing the hundreds of Nazca people creating these designs for the first time.