Cinco.

Near Ica wastelands a global paranoia was going to overpoint. Fire, thieves, murders, - things that people just talked about if at all possible. Don't take pictures here, someone could give you some beans. Don't walk in this district, only plaza de Armas is safety. After 6 p.m., when darkness comes into the town, all shops, houses and everything is locked (iron gates, ya), only jaunty taxi-drivers and a brave man in leather black with his pennywhistle crossing the streets. Indeed, fear is everywhere. I arrived to Ica in the gloaming evening, was trapped and put in the nearest hostel by some kind of passers-by not indifferent to city fear. People of Inca civilization practiced head deformation, ask google about "inca skulls". Perhaps, it should explain a bit their costa-dust madness.