Kerri

Our trip to Arequipa involved another lovely 6 hour bus ride. The town itself is the second largest in Peru and is known as the White City because many of its buildings are made from white lava rock (sillar). Legend has it that the inca Mayta Cápac said ''Ari qhipay'' (''Yes, stay'' in Quechua) to his men when he discovered the area, hence the name Arequipa today.

As big as the city is, we haven't found we like it as much as the other places we've been... even gigantic, crazy Lima. It's a beautiful city in a dry deserty valley between a bunch of towering, active volcanoes... but other than that, we just aren't feeling it. On our first evening we walked around a bit and bought some gelato. We somehow ended up talking to a guy who was in the ice cream store and he latched onto us and ended up spending the rest of the evening with us (not quite because we wanted him to, though). At first he was nice, but in the end he turned out to be quite pushy in his desperation to be friends with us. We told him we wanted to go to see the Museo Santuy (it's entirely dedicated to the 500 year old, young Inkan girl sacrifice discovered frozen and in perfect condition atop the volcano near Arequipa). He decided he'd follow us and wait outside in the cold for us to finish our hour long tour. The tour itself was incredibly interesting and informative, and the entire museum was really well organized. Our guide told us about ''Juanita'' and what her experience was probably like as she prepared to be sacrificed. Apparently all of the most beautiful babies were selected at birth to be potential sacrifices later in life in case there was ever an earthquake, volcanic eruption, or some other natural disaster. So they knew from early on that one day they might die. Some were sacrificed as young as 6 years old, others were as old as 18. In Juanita's case, they think she was about 12. We watched a documentary that followed the man who discovered Juanita as he and his crew climbed the icy volcano she was found atop... they were looking for more sacrifices (I think they found about 3 more child sacrifices on that climb, which is very rare... guess their first sacrifice didn't apease the volcano god!). Juanita walked up the mountain in a procession of Inkans, all who wore just woven sandals to make the climb up to the top of the 20,700 ft high volcano. She had fasted the day before and then was given some chicha (alcoholic drink) before she was killed by blunt force to the head. She was then buried along with some textiles and other god and silver offerings. Since she was found frozen, her internal organs are still in remarkable condition and when we got to view her at the end of the tour (in a glass freezer so she won't thaw out!), even her skin and fingernails still looked so real... it was a bit creepy.

We ended our tour and discovered our friend was still waiting for us in the cold. He took us around town to the plaza, where we went to Mass in La Catedral because we've become Catholic during the span of this short trip. We sat in the back and discussed politics, food, and tried in vain to explain to our new friend that Jews do not believe in Jesus, but he didn't seem to understand, especially since Jesus was a Jew himself. Then, of all things, he told us that he was Mormon. A Morman Peruvian! He had like 10 brothers, too. Makes sense. We then hung out at a mall because it was ridiculously cold outside and I was still wearing my clothes that were more appropriate for the scorching hot afternoon sun. We felt like high schoolers. Then we got a set dinner menu for less than a dollar (good noodle soup, so so rice and tiny fish). Our friend was quite the gentleman, pulling out our chairs for us and getting us whatever we needed. We were still hungry so we convinced him to watch us eat a giant piece of chocolate cake and drink some hot chocolate at a cafe nearby. He refused to eat there because he wanted a specific type of cheese bread and coffee. We went home after that... he made us promise to call him once we returned after our trip to the canyon, but he was a little too pushy about it. I felt bad for him because he seemed to genuinely want to be our friend, but he was just a bit too odd.

Next day we woke up early, stepped outside into the hot sun, and I realized I'd lost my sunglasses yet again on this trip (left them at the restaurant the night before, I think). Grr! And unfortunately for me, Arequipa was not like Cusco, and there were not 100s of people trying to sell me sunglasses on the street every 5 minutes. We went to the Santa Catalina Convent for a tour and it turned out to be one of the neatest places we've seen so far. It's a giant convent that is almost like a tiny walled in city, with little ''streets'' inside that twist and turn... you could almost get lost in there without a guide or a map! It's absolutely gorgeous... some of the cloisters are painted a beautiful bright blue, others a sunburnt orange color and others just white. There are flowers and trees everywhere inside. I felt like I was in Greece or something. From the top of the church (up 33 steps, just like Jesus' age when he died) you have a really great view of the convent, Arequipa outside of it, and the volcanoes outside the city. It has a pretty juicy history for a convent... it was originally created for the Spanish women who were living in Peru after the conquistadors came. Since many of them didn't have a calling to become nuns, they didn't all live like true nuns. They had apartment style living situations with their own kitchens and bedrooms (normally convents have communal living situations). Their families would bring them exquisite tea sets, textiles and paintings for their rooms so they could keep up the same high class lifestyles they had had in Spain. The nuns who paid the most were given more privilages and could become Mother Superior, and those whose families could not pay in full were lower in class. My Lonely Planet book says that they also would throw parties and the pope finally had to send a strict nun to force them to tone things down, though our guide didn't mention this so I can't say for sure whether it's true. The most interesting thing to me is that the Spanish nuns actually had slaves... they were allowed up to 6. The slaves were supposed to be learning from the nuns about religion, but since they were black and at that time black people were considered too impure to even become Catholic, it was clear that their role was just to serve the nuns. If a slave became pregnant, the child belonged to the nun since the slave was her property... if it was a girl, it was allowed to grow up in the convent, but if it was a boy it had to be sent away to live with the nun's family. Young girls would live in the convent as novices, and they'd essentially spend their days locked in their rooms praying, embroidering, and reading philosophy and theology books. Sometimes they would even have an elder nun spy on them and watch through their windows to make sure they weren't doing anything else. There are stories of very religious nuns who followed the nun lifestyle to a ''t''... one of them supposedly journeyed to the convent all the way from Bolivia, paid in full but chose to shun all her privilages and wanted the smallest, darkest room where she could devote her life to praying. Sometimes she'd ask other nuns to tie her upside down on a cross and was often found unconscious. She died mid-prayer. The convent was eventually opened up to indigenous women and whoever else had a calling and today there are 23 resident nuns who follow a very strict schedule of praying 6 hours a day... and they don't party.

We walked around town some more and found our way to a nicer neighborhood with a great view over the entire city. On the way we bumped into a random old woman on a bridge who started talking to Rachel after she heard us speaking English... turns out she was a retired insurance worker who was now living in Arequipa teaching English for a year. And she just would not stop talking. We heard her whole life story. As we parted ways, she let us know that she'd studied business at Georgetown. And that was that.

Colca Canyon...

Next morning we woke up bright and early at the ungodly hour of 5am to catch a 6am bus to Colca Canyon... twice as deep as the Grand Canyon! VERY unfotunately for us, our 3 hour bus ride was one of the worst bus rides that could possibly exist. We settled into our seats on the nice double decker bus, unaware how quickly things would change. A few minutes into the drive, the music started blasting. But it wasn't music. It was a morning radio show with men laughing like hyenas and then talking in baby voices. It wasn't funny. We asked him to turn it down. He said ''of course!´''. Then the stupid bus ticket collector boy turned the volume UP. It was so loud the speakers were crackling. Suddenly, the sound turned off. We breathed a sigh of relief. But too soon. A minute later, the bus boy was putting in a DVD. We could have never prepared for what horrible DVD he had picked. Trumpets blared and a bunch of local families marched around an arena... turns out it was a home video of a bull fight. We were forced to watch a bull fight on our 3 hour bus ride at 6am at top volume. The same trumpet music played over and over, matador after matador waved their stupid red flags at the bulls, they shot their spears into the bulls, the bulls bled, the bulls died. And we couldn't get away from it!!! And it was SIX AM IN THE MORNING. I almost cried I was so upset and frustrated. And of course the night before I had left my only pair of earplugs under my pillow, so I had to resort to stuffing my ears with toilet paper. Didn't work. At some point, the bull fight DVD ended, and we almost jumped for joy... until the bus boy started to put in another DVD. It was the icing on the cake... an anti-abortion, male chauvenist movie from the 60s about a husband who forced his wife to have the baby she didn't want to have, and then forced her to stay at home and take care of their child because it was ''her duty'', even though she wanted to start her own business. I honestly think the bus ticket boy was stupid and I'm baffled as to why he would think those movies were a good choice for a 3 hour bus ride... yes let me remind you, at 6am in the freaking morning!!!

Anyway, finally arrived in Yanque, the first town at the edge of the canyon. Except we didn't see any canyon. This was the start of everything on our trip going wrong and not being quite what it seemed it would be. We had taken a rickety old combi (cheap shared collective transportation, or just a beat up van seemingly made from junk parts that can magically fit 20 people inside) into town from the main canyon town of Chivay where our favorite bus dropped us off. We wandered the 12 streets of Yanque looking for the hotel our book recommended, only to discover that nobody in town knew where the street was that it was on. We got an unofficial tour of the town that way. While wearing our giant backpacks. And it was hot. The town is interesting though... very tiny, built entirely around the church in the center, with perfectly layed out streets radiating out from each side of the main plaza. Each street was dirt, had a few donkeys and dogs, and on either side were mud walls with protective cacti on top (to keep animals in and intruders out). We finally stumbled across our hotel... our big splurge on the trip at about $30 each per night or something, but hey, it included breakfast, a guided hike, a sauna, and a jacuzzi! (Or so we thought... we discovered later that night after our long 3 hour hike that the jacuzzi was nothing more than 3 giant tubs filled with lukewarm water. We almost cried again upon this discovery.) We also ended up spending a bit more on our meals because as it turns out, there weren't any resturants in town. Of course. At least the food was delicious. At this point we were the only ones in the giant hotel. We thought it was a bit weird, but soon the place started to fill up...

Our hike turned out to be a highlight, at least. It was about 3 hours and we had a local guide take us up into the hills to some pre-Inkan ruins (called Uyu Uyu), complete with a gorgeous view of the town and valley below. I couldn't stop taking pictures. Rachel and I spent a lot of time talking with our guide and she was impressed with our Spanish. Nobody else on the hike knew any Spanish so we felt especially smart, and we even got to translate for them. Along the hike we passed a lot of donkeys, sheep, cows, and pastures of quinua. At one point we even came across a little girl with a baby llama. On the hike back, we discovered that our hotel had neglected to mention to us that we should bring our bathing suits so we could stop and bathe in the hot springs on the way back. We were upset, until we discovered that the hot springs were just two small, crowded swimming pools... and nobody on our tour wanted to go anyway. We hiked back up into town, at which point it was getting pretty dark... we passed some more donkeys along the way carrying some supplies uphill, and I got to pet a llama! We were oohing and aahing at a llama on the side of the road when a local woman came up to us yelling ''Mine, mine!'' and then grabbed my hand, dragged me over to her llama, and forced me to pet it. Okay, well I wanted to, too. I think ''mio!'' was the only Spanish word she knew (the locals traditionally speak Quechua in the canyon country, and until very recently the canyon area had been entirely cut off from the outside cities due to lack of a main road going in/out).

Back at the hotel, we watched a really silly traditional dance put on by some local kids. The costumes were interesting... the guys actually wore embroidered dresses and these funny, floppy hats that had straps around their chins and noses. The girls just had beautiful embroidered skirts and vests. They proceeded to shuffle around to the music for a few minutes (their traditional dance?) before one of the kids grabbed my hand along with some other tourists and we started shuffling around in circles with them while everyone else watched us, highly amused. Then Rachel got a turn to shuffle. Then it was jacuzzi time and we cried. We were the only ones in there until a French guy came in and joined us... though it turned out he was actually born in Reunion (French colonist ancestors?) and now lives and works on the island of Guadaloupe in French Guyana. He didn't speak English very well, and our French is almost non-existent by now, so we had a really hard and frustrating (but amusing!) time trying to communicate with each other.

The next morning we got up bright and early yet again to catch a 7am bus ride to Cruz del Condor, where supposedly we were going to see a family of giant condors (heaviest flying bird in the world, with 10.5 ft wingspans!) flying over our heads as they went on their morning run. After our 2 hour bus ride along the canyon edge (beautiful!), watching it grow deeper and deeper, we got to the condor lookout point. Unfortunately we were stopped by a guard who said we had to buy a $10 entrance ticket. We gave him our money, and then he said ''uno momentito!'' (just a minute) and ran away. He was gone for a good 15 minutes. We had no idea where he went, but couldn't enter because he hadn't given us our tickets yet. We watched down below as the condors (tiny specks from our viewpoint) flew just feet above the onlookers heads. The local woman next to us kept saying ''He's coming, he's right there!'' and would point vaguely down below, but we didn't see the man... I think she was just trying to make us feel better. Finally we saw him sauntering slowly up the path towards us. We were incredibly annoyed at this point, and Rachel ran to get the tickets. We ran down the path to the lookout point... only to realize that the condors had gone back to their nests. We waited and waited until we were the only ones left at the lookout, but they didn't come back out. We were furious at the ticket man. We essentially paid $10 for nothing, since his stupidity (why didn't he have tickets with him?) forced us to miss seeing the condors. At least we can say we saw them from afar. We spent the rest of the morning hiking around the edge of the canyon, which was really amazing. I can't believe it is twice as deep as the Grand Canyon... I seem to remember the Grand Canyon looking just as deep, but maybe that was because I was like 12 or so when I saw it?

After our hike we caught another bus to the nearby town of Cabanaconde where we had lunch. The bus was full, though, so I had to stand in the aisle with the local women and I bounced around for a good 15 minutes. I hit my head on the TV three times and everyone said ''ouch!'' because they felt my pain. We arrived in the main plaza, had a delicious lunch, met the most annoying little boy in the world (he tried to steal our cameras, then he lied and told me his name was Santa Maria and tried to spy on me while I was in the bathroom), and hiked to another mirador (lookout point) over the canyon. Unfortunately the mirador path was blocked off by some rocks and a rusty wheelbarrow. After walking around for 10 minutes, confused as to how to cross or whether we even should, we finally just jumped the wheelbarrow and discovered the well worn path to the mirador. We gazed down the ravine at the oasis that we had previously pondored hiking 2 hours down to (and then 3 hours back up), and then decided to just go back to Arequipa instead.

After a lovely 6 hour ride, which included a screening of the horrible scary movie ''Jeepers Creepers'' (bad, but better than a bullfight), we made it back to Arequipa. The scenery on the way home was beautiful, though... we drove up out of the canyon and got great views of the canyon valley towns below, there were some icy, moss covered rocks, I'm pretty sure I saw a viscacha, and then we passed a very creepy but cool area of thousands of rocks piled atop each other in small stacks... I am still not quite sure what that was or who did it. We descended into the Arequipa valley area at sunset and the colors of the sky were really amazing pinks and purples. There were small puddles/ponds, llamas and alpacas, and then it became pitch black as th sun set and we spent the last hour a bit bored out of our minds.

Our last day in Arequipa involved the best lomo saltado of my life (and cheapest!), which is a Peruvian dish of rice, indiscriminate cuts of beef, french fries, tomatoes, onions, and a mysterious sweet soy-like sauce. We also spent about 4 hours on the computer uploading pictures and watched an episode of Friends... until the ripped DVD died on us and we missed the ending of the episode. Then it was time for our wonderful 11 hour overnight bus ride on Cruz del Sur to Ica/Huacachina. We got the royal treatment (in the beginning) for our $28... a special bus terminal separate from the other crazy local buses, a fancy schmancy waiting lounge, baggage check (like at airpors!), meals on board, and movies. The only unfortunate part was that Rachel requested a vegetarian meal and they served her beef for both meals... and then a baby wailed the entire night long and I could hear it through my earplugs. Babies here are annoying, we've decided. In the morning we were awakened by ''The Hot Chick'' movie playing and another meal that included carne that Rachel couldn't eat (ham croissant). And then... we were there! More on Ica and the crazy Huacachina sand dunes next time.