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The overnight journey to Arica on the Peruvian boarder is ten hours on the bus. We are on the first floor of the double decker and we have been sold semi cama seats instead of the full cama that we asked for (basically fully reclining), which are a must for these overnight trips. A little way into the trip and the temperature on the bus is boiling and so uncomfortable. After battling to open the connecting door for five minutes Suzanne clambers through a narrow corridor to get to the conductor and tell him that it's 'mucho caliente' (very hot). Squeezing back through to her seat there is then the concern that what she may have put across is that she is wanting it very hot! Going back to make sure they understand, they are both laughing their heads off - but assure her they will turn the temperature down. Now the bus is cool, hopefully sleep will come. But then we hit a really bumpy road, so that everything is clanging and banging inside the bus, which also means sleep is elusive again. These long bus journeys are beginning to take their toll!
We have an afternoon flight going from Tacna just over the border in Peru at 5pm and, ideally, we need the bus to turn up a bit late for its morning arrival into Arica to cut down on the 12 hour wait. Typically it's an hour early and still dark when we arrive at 5.30 am! We ask the way to the International Bus Terminal and get pointed in the direction of some dark empty streets by a local Policeman. Feeling a little unsure, however, we do find the terminal there and lots of locals milling around. The original idea was to leave our stuff at left luggage at the bus station and head into the town of Arica and then come back to get a 'collectivo' (shared taxi) over the border a bit later. We are so early that the left luggage store doesn't open for a few hours. We had read up about collectivo's that are basically taxi's that wait until they fill up with passengers before taking you over the border. We decide to leave the rough looking bus station and head to Tacna. Plenty of guys are around and we join a car with three other male passengers. The front seat is like a sofa so Suzanne, Steve and the driver squeeze on with the other three at the back. The driver asks for our passports so he can get us ready for immigration on the Peruvian border. We hand them over and see him running into the distance. Although we have read that this happens and the three guys in the back say this is normal there is a slight feeling of apprehension and what seems like an age before the driver comes back with the passports and some forms to complete. We have a fruit salad left over that we had made for the bus journey and as we can't take this over the border we try to share the goods with the other passengers and the driver who constantly dips his hands in again and again, and basically eats the lot. At the Chile/Peru border the crossing is easy, however, while standing in the immigration queue and being thirsty Suzanne asks Steve who has the coke in their bag, me or him! Obviously meaning the bottle of Coca-cola. Trying too hard not to look shifty and probably failing miserably we make it through without feeling a tap on the shoulder or hearing the ping of the rubber gloves for the uncomfortable strip search!
Tacna airport is about 40 kms from the border and we are dropped off by the taxi at 6.45 am and look for another left luggage so we can go into Tacna town and spend a few hours waiting for our late afternoon flight. As luck would have it the airport is undergoing refurbishment and there is no left luggage area! We go into a cafe and think about heading in to town and leaving our bags at a bus station lock-up, but by the time we return to the taxi stand the airport is pretty much empty and there are no taxis coming in. We spend a delightful nine hours in the only cafe in the airport, which is the only place open. It appears there are very few flights each day from here. We make the most of that time catching up on the blog, organising our onward travel etc. Eventually, the nine hour wait is over and we board our 25 minute (!) flight to Arequipa.
We are surprised at how big Arequipa town is, as our taxi fights its way through the Friday rush-hour traffic to our hostel in the centre of town. We found a hostel online that had good reviews and costs £11 per night. Barbara greets us with a beaming smile and we are shown a cell-like room that looks cold and bare, so opt for an alternative smaller, but brighter room on the first floor above the courtyard. We go straight out and immediately like what we see. The buildings in the town centre are constructed from the local white silla volcanic rock with ornate iron-gated windows and decorated heavy wooden doors. There are also plenty of brightly coloured courtyards where restaurants, bars and shops are located. A nice town.
There is a huge Cathederal in the centre and in the morning we take a guided tour around, but are rushed through at break neck speed. It must be because of the amount of gold, silver and precious gems inset on crowns, sceptres, religious artefacts and ornaments. This includes a gold and silver monstrance (altar piece) containing 40,000 diamonds. The value under that roof is staggering - where did the church get all that cash? We were taken to the roof to the bell towers, which has great views over the town and out to the surrounding mountains and volcanos. The Cathederal has suffered three earthquakes and a huge fire, so has been partially rebuilt many times. One of the bell towers which came from England was destroyed (and since rebuilt) during the latest earthquake in 2001.
We then go to the Museo Santuarios Andinos. We start with a 20-minute film showing the harrowing journey of yet another sacrificed Inca child 'Juanita', who was discovered on the mountain Chachani, the highest in the region. The girl first had to travel to Cusco (470 kms away so a hell of a walk to start with) where she was welcomed by the sacred Inca who 'transmitted his divinity'. From then she accepted her fate to be offered to the mountain Gods and began her journey back to Arequipa and finally to the summit of Chachani. As per the ritual of the sacrificed children we learned about in Salta, Juanita was put to sleep due to the cold and helped by various hallucinogenic drugs before taking a blow to the head. The film's reconstruction of her journey is heart-wrenching as she climbs higher and higher to her fate. We then get a guided tour through the museum so we could see her mummified remains in the glass case.
We go into the Iglesia De La Compania (church) that has a huge intricately carved facade and see a huge queue for the confessional box. Dodgy lot these here in Arequipa! The church is decorated in the same elaborate style we have seen in most churches in the region, but we also go through to the Jesuit chapel that has a huge mural painted inside inspired by jungle life with tropical fruits, birds and flowers. The courtyard beyond has carved stone pillars holding up the many arches on each side of the square and a fountain in the centre. Its all very pretty and peaceful.
The Monasterio De Santa Catalina is the next stop. Founded in 1579 and covering 20,000sqm it took in women from diverse backgrounds to serve as cloistered nuns, never again to return to their familes. The building is constructed from white volcanic stone like much of the town. Within these high walls the nuns would live, never venturing outside of the monastery. The pathways and courtyards are brightly coloured with red, blue and yellow paint with pots of deep red geranium adding to the vibrancy. However, once you step inside the 'cell' of the nuns you feel a cold depressed feeling. Bare rooms with minimal furniture, cold hard walls and little light. Hard to imagine this life of solitude with the thought of never seeing your family again. A harsh life with little joy leaves us feeling very sad. More cheerfully (!)... there is a gallery of portraits of some of the 'top nuns' (sorry our ecclesiastical vocabulary is limited) who lived in the convent. Unfortunately, since contact with the outside world was forbidden, the portaits were taken only after they had died. The causes of death are unknown, but some of the artists should have been shot for their terrible efforts. One poor sister looked as if she had been struck down by a fatally viscious shaving rash! The building suffered damage in the many tremours and earthquakes of the region. After sustaining the most damage in the 1958 and 1960 earthquakes, the nuns were moved elsewhere, and it was then restored and opened to the public in 1970.
After a great night out listening to a live band and chatting to lots of travellers, we decided to have a gentle walk around the park. It wasn't the relaxing walk we hoped for, as kids were everywhere (how dare they spoil our hangover walk). There was a tiny zoo, a boating lake with a massively over-sized rowing boat that took all of six minutes to do a circuit on the tiny lake, lots of people on microphones making jokes (we presume), magicians and some bad actors. It's good to see so many people making the most of family time on a Sunday afternoon despite the hangover.
We were the only two on our 'mountain biking down the volcano' trip and we were met by the guides at our hostal for the drive out of town and onto a dirt path some way up the Misti volcano. We then get togged up in full protective gear ready for the ride down. The driver/photographer went ahead to get some 'action shots' and, after checking that the brakes worked, we started our way down. Steve got to grips with it immediately and confidently went down some way ahead of Slow Coach Suzie, who was sliding everywhere. Her hand gripping tightly on the brake seemed to make no difference whatsoever, as the bike seemed to have a mind of it's own. Sliding on the scree was one thing and then there were deep deposits of sand that were a nightmare to steer through. Steve got further and further away and the guide was patiently waiting at each turn to make sure SCS hadn't fallen down a gulley. Cursing and swearing for the first 10 minutes, the path then flattened out a bit and the slightest, teeniest bit of confidence crept in, only for Suzanne to take one hand of the handlebar, push up her sunglasses, wobble for what seemed like half an hour and to fall off into the sand and bush. Nothing dented except her pride, she got back on the bike and then started wondering why her leg was itching, only to see a huge ball of cactus stuck on it. Thankfully, at the bottom of the volcano we continued on to a village on a tarmac road, and it was a pleasure for our buttocks not to be constantly going over bumps and crevaces. We stopped in a small village and had some snacks, and then we were told we were now going back up another mountain to cycle down past the farms and terraces. At least the roads looked a bit more solid. Back in the saddle (literally) and we start our descent. At first it seems easier, then we have a descent through smooth cobbled stones to slip and slide across and more of the same with deep patches of sand, fairly steep hills and also a fair bit of 'up'. Infact, too much 'up' to cycle at this thin-air altitude, so we got off and pushed the bikes. High altitude (and a level of being unfit) mean that we pretty much gasped our way up with the guide taking the bike from Suzanne. We eventually get back onto the road and Suzanne recovered amazingly to beat Steve to a sprint finish. There were some whimpers about problems with the bike, etc coming from the bad loser! Yeah whatever! The scenery must have been staggering, but all Suzanne can remember is the nightmare of focusing on obstacles a metre ahead of the front out of control zig-zagging wheel. We definitely had different experiences of our adventure.
The tour bus arrives at 8am, with another nine people already aboard, to start our trip to the Colca Canyon. The canyon is a deep fissure that runs 100km within the high Andes and is the second deepest in the world. Having been inhabited since pre-Inca times and still today, it is visually stunning with steeply terraced fields and glaciers hugging some of the highest peaks.
Anyhow, back on the bus Paul, our Peruvian guide, is a very animated person with lots of information and a smile as wide as the Colca Canyon. Just outside the town we stop to buy coca leaves and cocoa tea that are recommended due to the yet higher level of altitude we are going to experience. We buy only a small bag, but hear that in Peru it is legal to possess 20kgs of cocoa leaves. However, to make 1 gram of coke you need 30kgs (not that we are looking for a new line of business). We also try a drink that is made from fermented purple corn that is very sweet (they grow 55 different varieties of corn - if you think that's amazing wait till you hear how many varieties of potatoes). As we chew on the cocoa leaves Paul continues with more information about Peru's history, the Inca's, the flora and fauna of the region and the Canyon itself. He really is pouring out so much information it's hard to take it all in and as our cheeks and lips start going numb we realise the cocoa is starting to release its juice. Centuries ago this was used for anaesthetic in the absence of anything else, and with the numbness we feel, we can understand why, although not sure how a numb mouth would be beneficial if you needed your leg chopped off!
The bus is climbing higher into the mountains and we stop off to take photos of wild animals including Llama, Alpaca, odd looking rabbits with long curly tails and foxes. We have noticed lots of shops in Peru selling clothes made from baby Alpaca wool. Paul tells us that the cost of a jumper made from this wool could set you back from 1,000USD to 10,000USD. It is a protected species and if you are caught killing one you would face eight years in prison.
We stop off to walk amongst some sandstone rock formations known as a sandstone forest. This is due to the many towers of sandstone across this section of the mountain range. It's a precarious walk, as we slip on the slopes of fine powdery earth, being constantly told not to use the rock as support, as it will crumble away beneath us. Trying not to focus on the deep gulleys below, we listen as Paul continues with the nature lesson, pointing out various cactus plants and huge piles of Llama poo (territorial animals will always poo in the same spot) that we shouldn't stand on, as it will release thousands of tics that are residing under the mound. We carry on walking for about 45 minutes in the thin air up and down the hillside, marvelling again at nature at it's best before continuing on the bus.
There is a volcano in the distance smoking away, and this one did actually blow three weeks ago. Luckily, the wind was blowing away from all of the villages, so didn't causes any problems. Continuing on for an hour through the jaw-dropping scenery we stop to have some cocoa tea, as we are getting towards the peak of the climb, which is at 4910 metres. At the summit we take photo's and see stones stacked up all around in small neat piles. These are wishing stones, and it is said that the higher they were placed, the nearer to God, and so he would hear the prayers and wishes of the people. We eventually wind our way down the valley into a village called Chivay for our lunch. It's a buffet lunch of 50 ways to cook Llama and Alpaca meat, but really good.
We then go into the local market to try fresh cactus fruits. On the bush these fruits are covered in long sharp spikes. However, when the fruit is ripe it sheds the spikes and so is able to be picked. One of them is sweet and delicious, but the other has a strange salty taste and not what you would expect from a fruit. We also try the slightly fermented fruit drink and it seems to carry a slight punch. There are many more varieties of fruit and vegetables, cheeses, meats and the odd skull of an Alpaca covered in flies. Talking of fruit and veg, and coming back to the amazing fact of how many varieties of potatoes are grown in Peru... there are over 3,000 different varieties so Paul tells us. That's some big bag of chips!
Back on the bus, driving through areas of rough road we are told that lots of the routes were damaged through earthquakes. Paul then proceeds to tell us about the big one they are waiting for - a mere 10 on the richter scale! He mentions this about a minute before we go through a tunnel cut through the mountain...with tons and tons of rock above us! The scenery is becoming more dramatic and we marvel at the steep farmed terraces, built remotely, with few farm-houses around for miles. Many of these terraces were built by the Incas and pre-date Macchu Pichu. Some of the smallest of villages contain no more than four or five houses. However, it is law for all children to go to school, and it is not unusual for young children to have to walk up to two hours each way up and down the mountain passes. Many of the older children are now heading out to the city to work, so family life must be changing for these villagers. Eventually, and sadly, these villages may become ghost towns as the older generations die out, and the newer generations move to the city, and working the farms becomes harder as the glacial-fed water supply dwindles. Close to sunset, we take a walk down a winding path to stop and watch the sun set behind the mountain. On the way down we stop and let a very old lady pass coming up the steep path with her donkey laden with wood and then go on at Paul's usual brisk speed. While we are waiting he shows us what looks like a village in the valley below. However, this is a disused gold mine that had to be cleaned up, as the mercury deposits that were brought to the surface were blown down the valley, causing the local residents a high lung cancer mortality rate. The land around the mine is still devoid of vegetation.
On that sobering note we see the sun slip behind the mountain and feel the temperature drop dramatically. We zip up and wrap up to start the walk back up with Suzanne suffering again with the lack of oxygen in the air. She has a minor panic with some erratic breathing, but we have to keep moving, as it will soon be getting dark. We take it slowly to get back to the top (it is only a 20-minute walk, but feels a lot longer under the circumstances)!
We get to our mountain lodge and find we have a huge bed in a very comfortable room with floor to ceiling windows to see the view. However, as it's dark now we don't get the benefit. We are told the water is heated by solar panels...so do what everyone else does as soon as we get into the room and jump in the shower to make sure we get hot water! Trying to get a temperature that's neither freezing or boiling is like twiddling with a lock on a safe, as each millimetre to the left or right makes a huge amount of difference. We meet in the lounge for dinner and enjoy getting to know the group a bit better. We are a range of nationalities from Argentinian, South Africa, New Zealand, US, Switzerland, France, Israel and of course UK. We have drinks before the log burning fires, and then an early night as we need to be on the road again by 5.30 am the following morning.
After a huge three -course breakfast we head off to a point in the road where we are told we can mountain bike down.... and UP for a 20-minute section. Suzanne decides to miss this one out due to her breathing problems the night before. Instead, she sits upfront with the funny driver, Willy, and shares stories of what it's like growing up in Peru/England, about families and life in general. The bikes were in good condition and it looked great watching everyone fly down the mountain roads, for Suzanne, it was even better watching from inside the bus when most of the group huffed and puffed up a hill. At the top there were varying degrees of weariness, but they all made it. The guy from Israel learnt some new swear words from Steve! Continuing on downhill again on some steep parts and over some wobbly short sections of unpaved roads the cycling eventually came to the end. Tired but exhilarated, the bikers got back on the bus for the next stop to Cruz De Condor where, if you are lucky, you get to see the Condor's in the Canyon. We do see quite a few of them and it's hard to picture their 3.4 metre wing span without any perspective (only the huge canyon walls). Despite their size they look majestic as they glide up and down on the early morning thermals. There are many locals selling the usual colourful alpaca wollen clothes, blankets and anything llama shaped! We stay here for some time and enjoy the view in the warmth of the early morning sun. We have a gently sloping incline to walk back to the bus and no further breathing dramas occur!
Our next stop is at some hot springs. Built by the side of a freezing river, the hot water bubbles up from deep underground and fills the baths with bloody ridiculously hot water. Although we are given an hour there, everyone is cooked in 20 minutes. After having the spring pretty much to ourselves, as we leave, a mass of tourists descend on the place and we have to queue for the crossing back over the wooden suspension bridge. Another buffet lunch of alpaca, a stop off at a small town to enjoy a Colca Pisco Sour that is a cocktail made from cactus fruit (only native to the valley) and the brandy that they call Pisco. A couple of old ladies in traditional dress mix us some mean cocktails that send us all off to sleep for the three-hour journey back to Arequipa, where we get dropped off at the airport for our flight to Lima.
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