It’s only 200km from Cusco to Arequipa, but it’s a tortuous route through the mountains and it’s still raining. The journey takes 10 uncomfortable hours. And boy is there a big difference between traveling first class and second. At some god-forsaken hour during the middle of the night, I wander downstairs and sneak an envious peak into the luxurious first class cabin, but I’m quickly ushered back into second class hell. It’s a long, cold night and I sleep very little. Note to self: on long overnight bus rides, suck it up and pay a little extra for first class.
We arrive in Arequipa at 6.30am and taxi to the Home Sweet Home hostel. Hostels typically offer dorm accommodation, but the majority also have a few matrimonial rooms available, which really don’t cost that much more than two dorm beds. Once again, we’re shown straight to our rooms and after a revitalizing shower we’re snoring peacefully by 8am.
We struggle awake at noon and begin to explore. As with most every place we visit, we’re staying in the tourist section of town, well away from the real lives of the locals. Arequipa is yet another pretty colonial city, set against the backdrop of numerous volcanoes (all of which are part of the Pacific Ring of Fire). Arequipa is known as the White City because many of its most important buildings are made of white volcanic stone. We migrate quite naturally to yet another Plaza de Armas. We enjoy a long, late, lazy lunch on a second floor balcony overlooking the large, central plaza, which is great for people watching. Christi enjoys her first glass of red wine since those far off days aboard the MV Samba when we were cruising around the Galapagos Islands.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart – a gut-wrenching tale of love and test tubes.
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