After Huacachina and the lines, we spent two nights in Arequipa, the second largest city in Peru. The town stands at a lofty seven-thousand feet (suck it Denver!) and is nestled amongst twenty-thousand foot mountains. The most famous of these is the Mount Fuji doppelganger, El Misti a mostly inactive volcano whose lower slopes are populated with the city outskirts. Basically, there were two directions to walk in Arequipa, up and down. If you keep going up and you don't mind a little cold and some oxygen deprivation, you will eventually end up at the top of Misti.
Though we didn't do anything too spectacular or dangerous while in town, we had a good time all the same. The city was far more tourist friendly town center than Lima did. There were shops full of popular Peruvian crafts, including elaborate ceramics to cuy-themed t-shirts (cuy is the word for guinea pig when it's on your plate, an ancient and popular Peruvian dish. I thought the guinea pig "Cuy Cobain" with guitar and cigarette was kind of stupid.) It's also just as common for shops to stock "keep it legal" t-shirt with a coca leaf on the front as it is to see mary jane. Woven goods were hot in the shops, giving us tourists our fix of scarves, ponchos and gloves made from wool, llama or alpaca. For my part, I bought myself a nifty Peru hat. Every other storefront offered tours out to nearby Colca Canyon, trekking, river raftting, mountain biking etc. With all these places to spend money here, it was surprisingly easy to find an ATM.
Amongst the highlights of our stay, we checked out the Santa Catalina Monastery, which went back to the fifteenth century. Back in the day, it had been a party school. Partying may not be the first thing that comes to mind when you think of monasteries, but apparently all of the women who went there came from the rich, influential families of town who kept their respectability by packing their girls off to study there. The girls may or may not have been interested in God, but they were out to have a good time too—probably broke a few vows if you know what I mean. There might be a profitable independent movie in this for someone.
The place took up a large city block and was built like a maze we could wander. I got some photos of its bright-painted walls, and its walls, which looked really cool against the high-altitude blue sky. We also found a beam of light, that just might have been the holy-ghost. I got a few good blasphemy pictures of myself and others. The reserved spot I have waiting for me in hell just got a few degrees hotter.
Dining in Arequipa was delicious and we also found it to be cheap in a lot of places. We tried out an all-vegetarian restaurant, which had appeared like a yuppie oasis before our eyes. We got the menu, the multi-course meal. For the price of five soles we got soup, a tofu dish, pineapple custard and a refreshing purple glass of chicha morada corn drink.
At the opposite end of the price to value spectrum were the cities two Irish pubs. Let me qualify by saying, that I think its awesome that there are Irish pubs even in high-up, isolated place like Arequipa. Too bad that they sucked.
Beyond the fact that I really like Guinness, The idea of getting a pint in South America appealed to my appreciation for the surreal. Giddy with expectations of creamy, dark Irish goodness, Ben, Max and I went into the pub that was closer to our hostel to get our lunch. Unfortunately, we were already seated and munching on complementary bread when it came time to order so we felt obliged to stay.
"Quisiera un Guinness por favor?" The waiter seemed not to understand. "Tienes cerveza negra?"
Of course! We must want Cusqueña Premium. There's no Guinness here, but the fridge is full of the darker, crappier malt version of cusqueña. Disenheartened, we ate our lunches dry.
That night, we cruised up to the other Irish pub. Guinness! They had Guinness on tap! It would only cost twenty-five soles—a nine dollar pint. In other words, it would cost the same as our two nights in Huacachina. We walked away with low spirits but fortunately there was a place nearby that had some excellent pisco sours that we could cheer ourselves with.
Running in Arequipa was an improvement from our previous (mis)adventures in Lima and Ica. I might even go so far as to say that there were times that I even enjoyed myself. Arequipa's seven foot altitude, pretty much tied it with the Grand Canyon Rim as the highest place I'd stood (never mind the sense of accomplishment that comes with climbing Mt. Washington.) I was a little nervous about trying my legs and lungs out in the thinner air but didn't feel as limited as I had feared. The run, basically half uphill and half down, elevated my heart-rate to skull pounding intensity as we ascended the city's outskirts going towards El Misti.
Views of Misti, and down into the town with its surrounding mountains and desert plains, lent our runs a sense of epicness. It was also a plus to be out of the worst traffic and crowds of people.
The main aggravation and lurking fear we had to worry about were dogs. Dogs wandering on the street, dogs barking at us from rooftops. On our first day in Arequipa, Max and I decided to add ten minutes to our run and got cornered in an alley by a snarling mutt. I had to yell at it and threaten it with a piece of wood from some road construction before it went away. The next afternoon, the three of us were finishing our run when two dogs charged out from behind a wall and danced around us, barking and nipping until we shouted them down. Oh yeah, one of our party, probably not me, had gotten bitten while running in Ica. Thank God the teeth hadn't broken the skin or else we would have had to have tracked down a doctor to administer the necessary, painful round of rabies shots. Considering all the dogs I've seen in Peru and the dog-related grief I've had on this journey, I think money for someone to spay and neuter the population could be one of the best donations Peru could get.
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