First of all, a disclaimer. Anything I write below is written under the influence of altitude. I have landed in Cusco and am having a few difficulties with things like breathing, and walking.
I am told a few days at altitude, plus drinking copious amounts of mate (also known as coca tea), sorts you out and your body gets used to it. Fingers crossed, as I am planning a trek to Machu Picchu. An ability to breathe and walk might come in handy.
So, what's been happening since the last post?
First, I arrived in the attractive city of Arequipa following a decent nightbus journey from Ica. This time I went with a company called Oltursa, and it wasn't much different from my other Cruz Del Sur experiences: being video-ed getting on the bus (for security reasons), being shown 3 of the top 5 most forgettable films of all time, losing at bingo.
I headed to a hostal that was recommended to me by someone in Huacachina, and asked to see a room. Before getting to the room, I smelt it. And it wasn't a pleasant smell. I didn't really fancy spending a night in a mould-infected, damp cell - so I said muchas gracias and left.
I looked in my guidebook and saw a recommended hostal on the same road. I went, was met by a welcoming woman and was shown to a massive room with four beds, TV and a private bathroom:
All that for about six quid. As the late, great Jim Bowen once said: 'you can't say fairer than that'.
A quiet stroll in the sun around Arequipa's beautifully preserved streets was suddenly interrupted by thousands of locals whistling, chanting and marching through the city. I had arrived on the Day Of Protests, as the local rag called it:
From a brief chat with a local guy, I understood that these were people from the Arequipa suburbs who were not happy with the government's decision to take away their land. They were understandably angry.
Despite the anger, the protests were good natured and the thousands of cops on duty did nothing but stand and watch.
I made my way through the crowds to the Plaza de Armas, and headed up to a restaurant overlooking the square. There was a guy on one of the balconies hollering into a loudhailer, which was amplified by a microphone, and every word boomed out across the city.
Unfortunately I couldn't understand him, but the people were regularly cheering and chanting. At one stage they played the Peruvian national anthem, which got a muted response. Perhaps a strange thing to play in the circumstances.
It was a really colourful sight, all these different groups from various barrios and villages.
There were the miners, symbolically wearing hardhats, and the rural women in traditional Peruvian dress. All groups had their own banners, and from my position on high it was interesting to see them mobilise (on direction from the group leader) and march in unison - as if they had been practicing for this moment for some time.
In the afternoon I had a job to do: booking a trek to the Colca Canyon for the following day. There must be over a hundred tour agencies in Arequipa, all selling their own variation on the Colca Canyon experience.
My guidebook said 'you get what you pay for' with these agencies, so I soon discounted one that undercut the rest by about 50%.
I got a good feeling for a company called Peru-Suiza and after an informative chat about what I was letting myself in for, I asked to sign up.
As I was putting my details in their book, I looked at the two names above mine - it was James and Sarah, the London couple who I had spent time with in Mancora, Lima and Huacachina. Of all the tour companies I could have chosen...
So the group would just be the three of us, and we were going to set off at 3am the next morning.
With a bit of time to kill, I did the one must-do sightseeing experience of Arequipa - a visit to the monastery.
It's called the 'city within a city' and is exactly that. A former nunnery of small, windy streets and beautifully preserved buildings and bedrooms, where the nuns slept in isolation from the rest of the city.
The colours in the afternoon sun were great - terracotta mixed with bright blue:
It's low season for tourism out here at the moment, and it's great to often have sights like these almost to myself. I walked around for over an hour, including a stop to eat some of the best pieces of carrot cake I've ever had, and barely saw another person.
Here are some more pics from the monastry, and of Arequipa:
I am told a few days at altitude, plus drinking copious amounts of mate (also known as coca tea), sorts you out and your body gets used to it. Fingers crossed, as I am planning a trek to Machu Picchu. An ability to breathe and walk might come in handy.
So, what's been happening since the last post?
First, I arrived in the attractive city of Arequipa following a decent nightbus journey from Ica. This time I went with a company called Oltursa, and it wasn't much different from my other Cruz Del Sur experiences: being video-ed getting on the bus (for security reasons), being shown 3 of the top 5 most forgettable films of all time, losing at bingo.
I headed to a hostal that was recommended to me by someone in Huacachina, and asked to see a room. Before getting to the room, I smelt it. And it wasn't a pleasant smell. I didn't really fancy spending a night in a mould-infected, damp cell - so I said muchas gracias and left.
I looked in my guidebook and saw a recommended hostal on the same road. I went, was met by a welcoming woman and was shown to a massive room with four beds, TV and a private bathroom:
All that for about six quid. As the late, great Jim Bowen once said: 'you can't say fairer than that'.
A quiet stroll in the sun around Arequipa's beautifully preserved streets was suddenly interrupted by thousands of locals whistling, chanting and marching through the city. I had arrived on the Day Of Protests, as the local rag called it:
From a brief chat with a local guy, I understood that these were people from the Arequipa suburbs who were not happy with the government's decision to take away their land. They were understandably angry.
Despite the anger, the protests were good natured and the thousands of cops on duty did nothing but stand and watch.
I made my way through the crowds to the Plaza de Armas, and headed up to a restaurant overlooking the square. There was a guy on one of the balconies hollering into a loudhailer, which was amplified by a microphone, and every word boomed out across the city.
Unfortunately I couldn't understand him, but the people were regularly cheering and chanting. At one stage they played the Peruvian national anthem, which got a muted response. Perhaps a strange thing to play in the circumstances.
It was a really colourful sight, all these different groups from various barrios and villages.
There were the miners, symbolically wearing hardhats, and the rural women in traditional Peruvian dress. All groups had their own banners, and from my position on high it was interesting to see them mobilise (on direction from the group leader) and march in unison - as if they had been practicing for this moment for some time.
In the afternoon I had a job to do: booking a trek to the Colca Canyon for the following day. There must be over a hundred tour agencies in Arequipa, all selling their own variation on the Colca Canyon experience.
My guidebook said 'you get what you pay for' with these agencies, so I soon discounted one that undercut the rest by about 50%.
I got a good feeling for a company called Peru-Suiza and after an informative chat about what I was letting myself in for, I asked to sign up.
As I was putting my details in their book, I looked at the two names above mine - it was James and Sarah, the London couple who I had spent time with in Mancora, Lima and Huacachina. Of all the tour companies I could have chosen...
So the group would just be the three of us, and we were going to set off at 3am the next morning.
With a bit of time to kill, I did the one must-do sightseeing experience of Arequipa - a visit to the monastery.
It's called the 'city within a city' and is exactly that. A former nunnery of small, windy streets and beautifully preserved buildings and bedrooms, where the nuns slept in isolation from the rest of the city.
The colours in the afternoon sun were great - terracotta mixed with bright blue:
It's low season for tourism out here at the moment, and it's great to often have sights like these almost to myself. I walked around for over an hour, including a stop to eat some of the best pieces of carrot cake I've ever had, and barely saw another person.
Here are some more pics from the monastry, and of Arequipa:
