Day 6: Arizona Guy and Llamas

The alarm goes off at 2am. Carrie tries to turn off a book for a good minute. We´re groggy and not too excited to get out of bed. Sitting in the waiting room, the hostel guy tries to talk to us, but we just don´t get it. Then a guy we met the day before is still awake from the night before (who does that?! oh...) and also engages us in conversation. He walks away alive, surprisingly.

The bus arrives after a half hour of worrying, and we are stuck with seats that don´t recline. Lame. I can´t sleep immediately, so I watch out the window as we leave Arequipa and climb into the mountains towards Colca Canyon. Not much to say. It was very dark.

The trip takes a good 3 hours or so, and we disembark in Chivay, pay the fee to go through (S/ 35 for non-nationals and get breakfast of tea (we fail at drinking the mate de coca and get headaches later in the day) and bread. Talked to some of the others on the tour--an adorable older Chilean couple quite obviously in love and a quiet older man from Colombia.

We got back on the bus to head up to the Condor viewing spot where we could see all of Colca Canyon. The ride was bumpy, and the driver had his window open so dust spread into the rest of the bus. Our bodies were coated in it. Gross. The guide spoke in Spanish and then in English for our benefit all during the time we were driving. Very impressive.

At the viewpoint we had an hour to explore and take the same pictures of mountains over and over. We did so, and wandered through the different viewing levels on the hill. Unsure where our bus was about an hour later, we sat down with an American couple on our bus. The woman was quiet, and the man seemed unhappy--he said they were from Arizona. He expressed dislike for the entire Peruvian country, responding to "but don´t you like the people" with "yeah, when they´re not trying to kill me", referring to lax traffic rules in general (and he didn´t even go to Lima, where it was the worst). When asked if he liked the food, he mentioned a spot he found in Arequipa that "actually had chai". Said Puno was boring because the boats are slow and the floating islands are just a big expanse of grass; "you can see all of it when you land," he said disparagingly. His wife sat in silence the entire time he was ranting. Geez.

After getting on the bus, we had two more stops at scenic viewpoints, where we could take more pictures of the mountains, and sometimes see locals selling things (no one bought stuff). Then it was time for lunch in Chivay, where we went ahead and paid for the buffet (it was called the Lust Lunch) and got cuy and fried plantains. Carrie tried cuy in a stew so she wouldn´t have to see the entire thing, but then the people sitting across from us ordered an entire crucified cuy. It was kind of disturbing. They offered some to her.

The next day we would find out that the buffet had been a horrible idea, but for the time being we paid S/ 20 each for a meh lunch, and walked to a church, knowing we would have enough time to get back by 1pm. Of course, we couldn´t make it that far, and so we saw a baby lamb, and headed back to catch the bus, which ended up not being there. Carrie kind of freaked out (low-key) while I bought water and apparently was "not concerned enough". After a few minutes of waiting where it had been, we followed where another larger bus was going, and returned to the square to find the bus waiting outside the church.

I got ice cream from a vendor, and we hopped back on the bus for another two stops at viewpoints, one being all the way at the top of a mountain; most definitely the highest point we´d been, for it was freezing and the air was very thin. There were piles of rocks and though the guide had explained what they were, we had been asleep and had no idea. Left the bus, felt the cold, climbed back on and shivered. At the last stop, we saw a tiny bunny/chinchilla thingie that I woke up Carrie to see. She was much happier when I woke her to see llamas and alpacas grazing. One of them stared at us in the bus.

Before driving the two hours back, we stop at a small rest stop for bathroom use. Carrie remains in the bus and overhears Arizona Man grumbling. His wife asks him quietly, "are you upset about the tour?" He begins bitching about the guide telling us the difference between alpaca and llamas and how it was like telling someone the difference between sheep and goats. Then he said, "I mean, we can do this in the States so if you want to do this in the States we can just do that". The tour guide was in the bus. I still can´t quite tell the difference between llamas and alpacas.

The rest of the ride back was bumpy for a good hour, and I hit my head on the window 3 times while trying to sleep. When we got back, I showered and Carrie napped. We decided to get a light meal at a touristy place--"upstairs, yes, upstairs?"--jugo, coke, and sandwiches. Food wasn´t all that great. We people-watched out the window, and then went to bed early, completely exhausted.

Day 5: Pisco Sour

We showered and it was glorious (this is becoming a trend). Then we asked for a lunch recommendation and ended up at another set menu place that was fantastic. Very heavy food, but so so good.

We wandered around the city, through the Plaza de Armas, and ended up at a church of San Francisco. For S/ 2 each, we had a wonderful tour through the entire thing, which turned out to be quite huge. The tour was in Spanish, but the guide spoke slowly and we were able to understand quite well. Except something about a well and corpses.

Back at the hostel, we talked to some of the other guests, who were fairly interesting. We were too tired to go for a drink with them, and planned to go to bed early so we could wake up at 2am for a Colca Canyon tour the next morning. That evening, craving light food, we went to a pizzeria (ubiquitous here, surprisingly) for a small pizza, a pisco sour, and wine. It was perfect.

That night, we were in bed by 9pm, our day pack prepared for Colca.

Day 4.5: Funkytown and Big Feet

Cruz del Sur likes to do this thing where they try to entertain you. Of course, on a bus, there are only a few screens, and so someone has to decide what will entertain you. As we boarded the bus, jazz music spiced with Andean flutes was playing, and it was kind of nice. Our bags had been checked before we boarded, and we got wanded, which was quite fun.

We had boarded at the earlier station, so we had to go through tight Lima streets to get to the second stop. I thought the bus was going to crash a few times. We were sitting on the second level, very close to the huge window at the front. The seats were fairly comfortable, somewhat small. There appeared to be no one sitting in front or next to us, so Carrie planned on moving in a bit. We got a few pictures of the traffic, which you have to see to understand if you´re used to the U.S.

The playlist that was playing was on the tv screen for all to see, so we became concerned when we saw a strange list of music from The Cure, Michael Jackson, and Galaxy. It would be an odd mix, we thought. However, by the time we were to hear Billie Jean, it was time for a short video about putting on seat belts and not being allowed to poo in the bus toilet. For 15 hours. It was a little surprising, but I suppose it should not have been.

Next, they played a short promotional video for Cruz del Sur, starring an attractive, light-skinned Peruvian woman traveling around the country, commenting on the puncutality of Cruz del Sur buses. There was an entire scene of her doing a photo shoot with ample cleavage. Odd.

Then a full-length movie. Undisputed 2, dubbed, is no doubt a great choice for a bus with children and the elderly. The movie was loud and it appeared impossible to opt out. We were served a dinner of meatloaf, rice, a pastry, and some type of flan dessert. It was meh.

Carrie moved to the seat in front of me and was able to lean the chair all the way back. She whispered back to me that she felt her IQ dropping. Surprise surprise, there was another movie. (I had asked the attendant in the back of the second floor if there would be movies the whole time and he simply smiled and asked my name. Very unhelpful.) This time, it was My Boss´s Daughter, with Ashton Kutcher and Tara Reid. My ears cried (it was in English and more difficult to ignore) and my brain bled. Couldn´t sleep through it either.

Finally, the movie ended, the credits played all the way through and the TV turned off. The lights turned off. It was almost midnight, much past our usual bedtime. We promptly fell asleep, and I made the mistake of taking off my shoes and stinking up my personal seating area. Fun.

We were driving toward the sun when I woke up, and it was rising over the water. Gorgeous. Of course, I thought it was sand for lack of glasses. Still pretty. Had no idea where we were or how much longer the ride would be--projected, 15 hours, so 5pm to 8am, right?. I discovered that in taking off my shoes in the night, my feet had swelled to enormous proportions. I couldn´t put on my shoes, and had to borrow Carrie´s flip flops. Yes, I have pictures.

Eventually, everyone else woke up, as did the attendant, who immediately started another movie, a tv show this time. Goofy cartoon shorts. Yes, Goofy. A video of them complete with children from many countries saying how much they love Goofy. What? They too, were dubbed, which was kind of bizarre.

We got breakfast, which was just a croissant thingie with butter and a piece of weird cheese. I ate two, Carrie only had the bread we had brought. We started watching impatiently out the window at all the tiny towns we were passing, none of which were Arequipa. The coast disappeared and we started seeing mostly desert, which was less interesting. Then the music returned. And the person controlling it decided to begin where he had left off. All the songs we had recognized were bad smooth jazz covers of everything from Bob Marley to disco. Yes. They played a smooth jazz cover of Funkytown. I cannot emphasize enough how horrible this experience was. I tried to drown it out with rock music on my ipod, but the jazz techno was too penetrating.

When the bus finally stopped in Arequipa (a little before noon--it took 18 hours), we hauled ass off the damn thing and quickly hopped a taxi to the hostel.

Day 4: Ceviche but no ice cream

We woke up late, just in time to check out and put our bags in storage. We ate breakfast at the hostel and then walked up Arequipa St and then down a residential street to an archeological site called Huaca Pucllana.

It´s the site of a massive temple. It had been built near the ocean, one of the people´s greatest gods, but the coast had moved over time so now the site is farther inland. The section that we saw is only a tiny portion of an enormous area full of temples (complete with bones of sacrifices) on which the city of Lima was built. The portion that had been somewhat excavated and restored was a hill only thirty or so years ago and had to be bought from a rich family that owned much of the land in the area in order for archeological exploration.

Our guide, Alejandro, was very good and spoke English very well (especially considering he claimed to have learned it through giving tours). The whole site was fascinating and it was great to see it, as it was our first archeological site of our trip.

We wandered back to Parque Kennedy after grabbing some coffee, hanging out until it was late enough for lunch (usually 12:30-1:30pm, as we´ve realized). Alejandro had suggested a good, cheap cevicheria, where we learned about set menus--of increasing price (but only about S/6 to S/ 9)--with different options for sopa, segundos, y postre. The ceviche was wonderful, and the rest of the meal was so good.

From there we walked to another area of Miraflores and sat in a park watching the numerous sanitation workers do upkeep. They all wear masks or fabric to cover their nose and mouth while working. All over Peru.

Running out of places to go, we decided to search for an ice cream place we had passed previously. I swear, it disappeared and we could not find it no matter how many times we wandered through the same area. So we grabbed snacks from the grocery store (pan) and walked back through the park. We noticed some guys pointing and taking pictures of us, so we returned to the hostel to wait for the bus.

We played go fish, finished our bag of goldfish (from airport snacks), and talked to the strange american with the bracelets. We mentioned that we´d had ceviche. He countered with a story about how he´d gone somewhere with four different sizes of ceviche, so he got the second to largest. Very interesting guy.

There was a miscommunication in terms of timing and, thinking we were late, we hurried to grab a taxi to get to the Cruz del Sur office downtown. The driver was chatty, but his accent was difficult to understand. He also asked us if we were married. Odd. It only took about 20 minutes to get there even though it was 4pm, and we were just in time to hang out a bit longer waiting for the bus. There was a show playing in the waiting room with adults in the roles of children. Very odd.

Day 3: Catacombs and Crack

That night was worse than the one before, as we had become gradually more well-rested and thus more sensitive to the very loud street noise outside. Oh big cities.

We woke up fairly late, around 9am, and asked the hostel guy for help booking our bus tickets to Arequipa for the following day. Turns out he was working on his birthday. When we left the hostel, I told him "Feliz Navidad". Clearly, I need to work on my Spanish.

At a small café for breakfast, I had the misfortune of getting that Zombie "in your head" song stuck in my head. For a long long time. And now it´s stuck in yours. We hopped a minibus al centro and from there walked to the Church and Convent of San Francisco to see the catacombs.

We went on the English tour, which was a poor idea, as the tour guide was simply reciting memorized phrases (such as "watch your step" to mean "proceed into this room"). On the tour with us were a few high school football players and their coach/Spanish teacher, who said they had raised money to build a house for a family near Lima. The guys were kind of douchebags, making fun of the guide and generally being stupid boys.

Carrie was appalled by poor condition of the artwork and lack of restoration, and I asked the guide (in Spanish) about the lack of air conditioning to preserve the artifacts and paintings. He said it´s too expensive and there´s no funding for it. It´s very very sad, as every single museum/cathedral for the rest of the day was the same.

We got to go into the catacombs, which were totally awesome. Don´t think we were allowed to take pictures. I especially liked the bones arranged in designs and in very deep piles.

Next, we took a taxi to el Museo Arqueologico in Pueblo Libre, a little far away from downtown. The old driver took us through el barrio and it took at least 20 minutes to get there. There we saw tons of things, ancient artifacts, etc. However, we were far too hungry to be too interested, so we walked quickly through the rest of it and took a more expensive taxi back to the Plaza de Armas. Carrie said it was due to supply and demand. I was just kind of annoyed about it.

So we found a tiny restaurant that served three course meals for S/ 5.50 and just blind ordered. The food was fantastic, but we ran out of time to eat it (along with the two different juices we ordered--Carrie got papaya, I got luchino, which is strawberry banana, I think). We ran to catch a tour bus that we had decided to take so we would feel more comfortable being shameless tourists. However, the time on the pamphlet we had was 10 minutes too late and we missed it.

So we got tickets for the next bus, 75 minutes later, and sat down in la Plaza to wait. Carrie used her Czech-- "I´m sorry, I can´t understand. Ice cream."--to get rid of three guys who tried to talk to us.

At 6:15, we got in line for the tour bus and were told that our ticket was for the 7:30 tour. The woman at the desk had written down the wrong time. We went to bitch at her in broken Spanish and in English, but she said it was full. Bullshit, I think, as the last one hadn´t been full either. Thankfully we got a refund (all S/ 16) and it was still light enough to take a minibus back to Miraflores.

The minibus was an experience, as it took at least an hour through bad traffic to reach Miraflores. At least four different people got on to beg or play music for money. Interesting system. Ambulances had difficulty making it through the traffic.

We got off the bus and went to get a pork sandwich at a stand in the park. Carrie fed an adorable cat that was watching us, so it kept trying to get the sandwich. Was annoying. But adorable. Ran to the other sandwich place for guanabana juice (it´s totally laced with crack) and walked back to the hostel.

As we were checking email, an American started talking to me and then to Carrie (switching off computer). He was from some American state (the people we meet blur together after a while) and told me he´d been in Lima for 7 weeks doing consulting work. Carrie, having missed some of the conversation, asked the same questions and received strange responses. When she asked him how long he´d been in Peru he answered, "I mean, look" gesturing to the many string bracelets on his wrists. This became a running joke.

Once we were safely upstairs, we concurred that he was kind of attractive but too weird. Very very weird.

Total catcalls: 40

Budget for two people: 3 meals, 2 buses, 2 taxis, 2 museums = $33
Peru is awsome.

Day 2: Juice and Catcalls

Had set our alarm for 7:30am, woke up reluctantly at 8am.

We had decided we would walk downtown rather than taking a bus. The street by the hostel was Arequipa St, and would take us all the way downtown (directly north), so directions would be fairly easy. We had some tea y pan, and set out on our way.

Traffic is completely insane in Lima, so the most difficulty we had was crossing the streets every block. We also got a lot of catcalls, honking, and greetings in English. It got old really fast.

An hour and a half later, we found Q street (Quilca, but Carrie had forgotten the name--typical) and Plaza San Martín. Tired and dehydrated, we walked around the outskirts of the Plaza and found a tiny hole in the wall place where we could get water and some food (couldn´t buy it earlier because no one would take big bills for a S/ .80 water. Carrie got some coffee, and then I tried to ask for some papaya (as we saw a platter sitting in a cooler) in Spanish. I, sucking at Spanish, didn´t recognize the word "jugo" and just nodded. We ended up getting papaya juice, which is pretty much just liquified papaya. I got an egg sandwich, which was just fantastic. We had to bother her to change S/ 50 for the meal, but we thanked her profusely. We walked to the Plaza de Armas, saw the changing of the guard (complete with a marching band) and went into the cathedral. I enjoyed the crypt most with its baby coffins and skulls, but it was a very beautiful cathedral, excepting the tomb of Francisco Pizarro. Carrie enjoyed the nativity scene with blinking lights.

We wandered down some random street and across the river, then turned back and got empanadas (weren´t warm, sadly) and water and called gringos. A bus to return to Miraflores took 30 minutes and cost around S/ 3. We walked back to the Parque del Amor, and saw Japanese tourists and people taking wedding photos. Showered back at the hostel before meeting up with Amaru in front of another cathedral. Took a bus to Barranca, where it was quiet and not very touristy. It was nice getting a tour from a "local". Walked down to beach and had "getting hit on in Lima" summed up by a group of less than reputable teenage boys.

Our feet hurt so much, but we walked all the way back to Miraflores along the beach, and I tried to explain the obseity-cancer link to Amaru in Spanglish. Carrie made fun of me when no one understood a word I was saying. We saw a pelican and the sunset, and terrifying cliffs beside the road that houses and buildings were built on. Terrifying.

Back in Miraflores we went to the best sandwich play on earth, and had fantastic juice. We sat and talked with Amaru for about an hour or so, and eventually left when the creepy white guy staring at us wouldn´t go away. The breeze had also gotten quite cold. We walked with Amaru to the supermarket and argued over the size of water bottles. Heard the song "Girls just wanna have fun" over the intercom and laughed.

We said goodbye to Amaru, and gave him our email addresses. Went to buy tweezers at the pharmacy (it had become a very necessary purchase).

Day 1: PDA and Mayonnaise

We settled for an expensive taxi to the hostel (S/ 55), and showered. It was glorious. The hostel guys spoke some english, which was useful.

After discovering that our feet stunk to high heaven, we left the hostel to explore Miraflores (a suburb in the south of Lima). We walked to a café for coffee and soda, then headed to a park by the beach called Parque del Amor. PDA central.

The breeze was nice and we ended up talking to guy from la selva (the jungle in the north of Peru) named Amaru. He didn´t emit any creepy vibes, and seemed like a very decent guy. He spoke some English, and with my little bit of Spanish, we were able to communicate rather well. We walked with him for a while, got some restaurant recommendations, and agreed to meet up the following day to see Barranco (a suburb to the southeast of Miraflores). He walked us to an exhibition of nativity scenes made by artisans from around the country. The theme was Andean Nativity Scene, and while a lot of them looked quite alike, some of them were outstanding. No pictures allowed, which was lame, but it was wonderful to see them all--we would not have found the place on our own.

It was getting dark, so we parted ways. We promptly forgot his dinner recommendations after discovering that one of them was more bar than restaurant, and walked down a tourist trap (presumbly) known as pizza st. (The guy at the hostel had suggested sushi--really?) We stopped at one with waitresses who promised us a free drink. We sat down, and were not given free drinks. The meal deteriorated from there.

First of all, we blind ordered two things off the "Peruvian Food" menú that sounded good--yellow mashed potatoes with chicken, and avocado with vegetables. The waitress appeared to have lost her wits somewhere earlier in life and was confused about how many entrees we were ordering. However, she soon figured out that we wanted one of each.

When she brought out the glass bottle of water with metal cap, she took a wine opener and attempted to open the bottle. Being unsuccessful (lack of sufficient pressure, I believe), she retreated to the kitchen to get help. She returned with the open bottle and pour water for each of us. It is unknown whether she noticed our giggles.

A few minutes later, she made a big deal of putting down our napkins and silverware horizontally and very carefully. The whole process took a full minute.
By this point, Carrie quipped, "Well, at least the food can´t be that bad."

The waitress brought out two plates of food on a serving tray, and seemed to be untrained in lifting one off without almost dropping the other. At this point, I must say that we completely regret not photographing our food before eating, because each plate was truly a work of art.

Mayonnaise art. Each plate was decorated with curly-qs of mayonnaise, with paprika sprinkled on top. The mashed potatoes entreé was in the shape of a small round cake, vertical sides and everything. The top was also decorated with lattice decorations of mayonnaise, and there were four sliced black olives atop it. I barely noticed the two half hard-boiled eggs on each side of the cake potatoes.

However, the other was even more epic. They had taken an avocado, sliced it in half, and filled it with chicken salad. Atop the avocado itself was a giant glob of mayonnaise, about the size of the entire avocado itself.

After giving each other the look of impending doom, we dug into the entreés, unsure what we would find. It turned out to be mayonnaise-y chicken salad. I think. Now, Carrie´s not a huge fan of mayonnaise, and I have to admit, I can only eat it in relatively small quantities. Ergo, the entire meal was digusting.

The food had been expensive, but not knowing enough Spanish to complain, we decided to chalk up the meal as "an experience", pay, and leave. We paid S/ 29 for the entire mess and ran.

Right into a really short guy trying to cross the street who started talking to us (in English) as we walked into the park. It was his New Years (still drunk, perhaps?) and he offered to buy us drinks. But "no sex". Though we were "fucking attractive". "Me, I am 31." He looked 51. We shook him off, as you would a tiny yapping dog.

I steered us back to a tiny hole in the wall restaurant, where I got a cheese sandwich and Carrie got a fruit salad (I had to pick out the bananas for her). It was much much better and we laughed about the mayonnaise, which became something of a running joke until we encountered another fantastic inside joke the following day.