Arequipa

The Arequipa Cathedral

During my two weeks in Peru in 2006, I opted for a "less is more" strategy to travelling. Aside from two nights at Lake Titicaca (and one unscheduled night in Lima due to bad weather), Shahid and I spent our entire time in the Sacred Valley, between Cuzco and Machu Picchu.

I don't regret that decision at all. We hiked the Inka Trail and spent a good amount of time exploring the ruins at Machu Picchu. We hopped our way around the Sacred Valley, getting to visit little towns like Ollantaytambo, Pisac and Urubamba. We stayed for a night with a local Quechua family on Amantani Island, in the middle of Lake Titicaca. All that and we still had time to make the most of Cuzco; by drinking at Paddy O'Flaherty's, partying at various clubs around the Plaza de Armas, relaxing in little cafés and restaurants, and checking out one really strange natural history museum. We did a lot of stuff within a relatively concentrated area.

The only problem with this was that we missed out on everything else that Peru has to offer. For instance, travellers I met during that trip kept talking about a city named Arequipa.

The Road into the Andes

Fast forward about three-and-a-half years.

In the mid-afternoon of November 13th, 2009, I was back in Peru -- on the final leg of a grueling fifty-hour, three-bus, one-collectivo, two-border-crossing, overland journey from Mendoza, Argentina. I had a little over a week left before catching a flight out of Lima, and Arequipa was my last, significant planned stop in South America. That crazy bus trip was my concession to a full four days exploring both the city and the Colca Canyon (more on the Canyon in a further entry).

The Plaza de Armas, Arequipa

Arequipa is the second largest city in Peru, and the third most visited after Lima and Cuzco. Whereas Cuzco is known for historical Inkan ruins and lively Quechua culture; and Lima, its muggings and choking smog; Arequipa has an amazingly colonial Spanish vibe, fueled by the many well-preserved, sillar buildings (sillar being a pearl-coloured volcanic rock ubiquitous in the Arequipa region). The historical centre of Arequipa has been designated a UNESCO World Heritage site and it's not hard to see why this place has been dubbed 'La Cuidad Blanca' (The White City).

The city is also distinctly Peruvian. Despite having travelled before in Peru, coming back was a little bit of a shock to the system; due to the three months spent previously in Brazil, Argentina and Chile. Peru is just unmistakably more rustic.

Okay, 'rustic' is just my politically-correct codeword for 'dirtier; with a lower standard of living'. Peru's rusticity also means that my guard was back up, after the relatively safe environs of Argentina and Chile. Due to reported scams and muggings by taxi drivers -- and criminals driving vehicles masquerading as taxis -- the Arequipa bus terminal has police stationed at all the exits, taking down the details of all foreigners boarding a taxi. Fortunately, despite all the potential downsides, 'rustic' is also a codeword for 'country that is incredibly cheap in which to travel'.

Fruit Market in Arequipa

Arequipa is home to one of the better public markets I encountered during my time in South America. Aside from the mountains of potatoes, fresh fruit and vegetables could all be had for cents on the pound. I still have dreams about the mangoes I procured at that market, paying all of C$0.20 for juicy, sweet orbs of mangoey goodness about three times the size of my fist.

That fruit and veg market was also the source for one of the bigger food adventures on this trip.

Given the low cost of food in restaurants, bars and cafés, I didn't have to cook for myself to save money -- something I'd been doing quite a bit of in Argentina and Chile. I was, however, carrying a few leftover boxes of tomato sauce from Mendoza. Since I needed to use up at least some of the tomato sauce, I decided to cook up a pasta dinner one night. Stopping by the market, I picked up an onion, some garlic, and what looked to me like a sweet red bell pepper.

As it turned out, it was not a sweet bell pepper.

This is Not a Sweet Bell Pepper

The first sign that something was wrong should have been when I cut the pepper open and saw that the seeds were jet black. Nothing smelled funny, and I saw no mould, so I plowed ahead. I figured that the black seeds were just a quirk of Peruvian bell peppers. After all, all chili peppers -- from mild red and green bell peppers, to jalapenos, to the deadly bhut jolokia -- are just cultivars of the same species, right?

The second sign that something was wrong should have been when I wiped my nose, and my nose caught on fire. Figuratively. (Obviously. I think even I would have caught on that something was amiss had my face literally caught on fire.)

But, even then, I didn't clue in.

I thought the heat was coming from the residue of all the raw garlic I'd chopped up a few minutes earlier. It was only when the burning persisted, over ten minutes later, that I started to wonder whether it might be the pepper. Then I tasted the pasta, confirming it beyond a shadow of a doubt. Thankfully, the tomato sauce and pasta toned down the heat a bit, and I was able to take advantage of my relatively high tolerance to capsaicin to eat it all.

Thank God I also chose to wipe my nose before going to the bathroom.

I can't quite figure out whether this is funny or very, very racist.

One of the reasons I really didn't need to cook is that Peru has the largest population of Chinese immigrants in South America -- immigrants whose primary contribution to Peruvian culture seems to be through the multitudes of Chifa (Peruvian Chinese food) restaurants located throughout all the major urban centres. While I ate my fair share of potatoes and alpaca and llama while I was in Peru, I couldn't resist giant plates of fried rice for less than two-dollars Canadian.

Fried rice... sort of. Who cares when this cost all of 4.50 soles (C$1.50)?

As far as the sights of Arequipa go, you can't miss the Momia Juanita (the Ice Maiden Juanita) -- one of the more important Inkan archeological finds in the area -- or the Monasterio de Santa Catalina (the Santa Catalina Monastery) -- one of the most photogenic sites within the historical centre.

The Entrance to the Casa de la Cultura (Or, As Far As the Camera Was Allowed)

Unfortunately, I was unable to photograph the mummy. That's just something to see for yourself when you're down in Arequipa.

Not the Mummy

I was, however, able to spend a good two hours wandering around Santa Catalina, photographing the vividly painted cloisters and alleyways. I'll let the following photographs do the talking.

Red Courtyard, Santa Catalina Convent

Blue Courtyard, Santa Catalina Convent

Where the Nuns Cooked

I immensely enjoyed my time in Arequipa and (though it's becoming a ridiculously oft-repeated refrain) I wish I had more time there. Another week would have been perfect, allowing me to spend more time acclimatising to the altitude (Arequipa is located at 2,300 metres above sea level -- high enough that the lower amount of oxygen in each breath affects physical activity). That would have allowed me to summit one of the volcanoes near to the city (either El Misti or Chachani -- 5,800m and 6,100m peaks respectively) without being too concerned about altitude sickness. As such, travellers familiar with the Arequipa region will note that this post hasn't included a single picture of the numerous volcanoes surrounding the city.

As it is, all of that will have to wait for the next trip.

Related Entries:
1. The Rains in Peru
2. My Travel Wishlist (Part II)