Arequipa y Cuzco

One of the benefits of traveling alone is that when make stupid decisions and you are the only one it affects. For example, I decided to go to Arequipa in the south of Peru. My plan was to hike either in nearby Canon del Colca or the 19000 ft El Misit volcano. I only allotted myself a couple days in Arequipa as part of a grander, even more disorganized plan. And upon arriving in Peru’s second largest city, 2 days was not enough. Canon del Colca is not actually that close to Arequipa. And to hike the 19,000 ft volcano, you either need to the time to organize a group to do it yourself or pay for a guide. I surely would not be found paying for a guide of something I knew I could do on my own. There was also the fact that I came straight from sea level in order to hike a volcano where altitude sickness would have played a serious role. After it started to rain, I knew I would be moving on. But to where? I had been advised that Puno, a smaller city located on the banks of Lake Titicaca (the highest navigable lake in the world and home to some really cool cultures). But, again, I didn’t want to make the same mistake twice, so I decided to just head straight for Cuzco and give myself plenty of time there.

So, after 24 hours of hanging out in Arequipa, a quick meal, a nap, and a few skype sessions, I headed right back to the bus station. After waiting 5 hours at the bus station for the bus to leave (again a solid decision to not look up bus schedules), the bus company had somehow overbooked the bus, so I volunteered to take the next bus an hour later. And was it ever a good choice. The next bus was well under booked, including a seat on the bottom, ‘upper-class’ level. The seats were what you might find in the first class of an airplane. Only downside is that the bus ride was cold and of course I am in flip flops and basketball shorts. Plus, the blankets provided might have covered the legs of a 12 year old Earl Boykins. I arrived to Cuzco to a tempest of rain that, at nearly 10,000 ft, had me shivering by the time I walked from the center of town to the hostel.

Loki Hostel is a converted mansion with a staff of hired hostellers serving up drinks at the bar. With high expectations due to a very sound recommendation from a dear friend, I am nothing but impressed by the hostel. There is a fairly good mix of nationalities. I was able to impress a German girl with my few German words, most notably, Shmarotzer, please excuse the spelling. Of course the topic of United States gun laws came up when I was chatting with a Canadian. As with the general population of non-United States citizens, he clearly thinks the ‘wild-west’ of American gun policy is quite irrational and absurd. He was happy to hear that at least one American agrees with this consensus.

Cuzco is a medium sized city strewn about the hills of the ‘Sacred Valley.’ I think the total number of modern buildings rings in at around 3 or 4. The rest are massive mansions converted to little shops or hotels, churches, and palaces. The cobblestone streets of this amazing city are truly mesmerizing. And the views from the hill where the ruins of Sacsaywaman are located are no less stunning. The price to ‘see’ the ruins was too much for me, be the fact that you can ‘see’ the ruins from the walk up was enough for me. It was my first real glance at Incan history. For some reason it takes these massive stone walls to set the imagination free, to pretend you were living at the time they were made.

I fell in love with Cuzco when I visited the market. There was just about anything you could ever think of. I bought some delicious Andino cheese, an avocado (purchased at the correct price of .50 centimos, or about 20 US cents), and some almonds. There was everything from toothpaste to cow heads to spices to jeans to flowers to pig legs.

The nightlife in Cuzco is not what you would expect from a mountain town at 10,000 ft. Every night is a party, especially at the hostel I am staying. And it seems as well that every night there is a party in town at one of the clubs as well. Hence, it was a great place to celebrate a birthday. I ended up spending the morning after my birthday talking with some Peruvians as we hadn’t slept all night. The next night was filled with face paint and more late-night partying. Meeting people is one thing. But when you spend a couple nights engaging in outrageous amounts of drinking and dancing with people, you become friends. And when you are traveling, no one thinks the worse of you. Except maybe my mother! Soon, I think, I will find the courage to flee the party life and go see some ancient ruins. There is a time and place for everything.