Under Way - Kind Of.

Arequipa, Peru’s second largest city and my former home of 8 weeks. For those of you unfamiliar with the weird and strange nuances of a developing country I would like to indulge in a description.

 

The guide books will often regale the reader with a description of the place as “The White City”. Sounds very ‘Lord of the Rings’. Possible similarities might include the sewage system, feudal tendencies and attitudes towards litter. The actual moniker comes from the white igneous stone used to build the towns historical quarter, now a pleasant streaky grey hue in response to the industrial level pollution churned out by the copious ancient and decrepit vehicles that choke every single potted hole lane that passes for a street.

A walk through the city centre is an assault of the senses. A clackson of car horns belting out decibels of chaos for reasons far and above my level of understanding. The hustle and bustle of the sidewalk more resembles a low level rugby scrimmage as each and every creature refuses to move, some standing only 4 foot off the concrete surface steadfastly holding their line scattering gringos into the oncoming traffic with wanton abandon. The streets themselves a packed with shoppers, workers, families, school kids and beggars in a maelstrom of activity. 

 

The saving grace of this town however  comes in two forms, a picture perfect main square jammed to the park benches with every representative of Peruvian society overlooked by a huge and intricate example of the ‘colonial architecture’ so lovingly described in the guide books. The second also hovers over the square, in fact it hovers over the entire city and that is its ring of volcanic mountains. Three in total standing around 6000 meters above sea level and around 3500 metres above the square. Perfectly capped with snow and able to be seen from almost each of this cities filthy streets. They allow the wayward stranger the chance to gather their directional bearings while being pushed into small yellow taxis by smaller brown women.

 

But somehow I managed to grow fond of this hazy and noisy metropolis. Maybe because it is my first Latin American experience. Maybe because I lived with the locals and saw the city through their eyes, strangely enough it wasn’t at all strange to them!

 

But the time to leave was nigh, I have a date with my bike in Lima for the 10^th of May. I’m flying solo with Carlie still back in Oz and have found my self in a small place called Huacachina, a small slice backpacker purgatory 3 hours south of Lima. I have traded the noise and annoyance of Peruvian life for the noise and annoyance of that segment of humanity known as the budget traveller.

 

 But that’s another story….