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Having read the last blog entry we are now laughing at our naive talk of "hellish" 12 hour journeys. Ha! We now laugh in the face of childish journeys such as that. Our last bus ride took 27 hours...more on that later tho, as first we must talk about Arequipa. Arequipa is a lovely place, people, architecture, food...everything about this place is great. A seriously chilled city based in an oasis in the desert, it has several volcanoes overlooking it (a bit like santiago with the snowcapped andes and no smog!) and what is even better it has the best kebab shop outside Manchester (Called El Turko cos over here they don´t distinguish between any of the former peoples of the Ottoman Empire, they are simply all Turks).
We spent a wicked day going around the city, and we especially enjoyed the Santa Catalina monastery. This place is amazing, each sector is painted either red, white or blue and the effect is like a piece of Andalucia transported into Peru. Although it´s a monastery apperently this place was party central for the first 100 years of its existence, until some serious Mrs Macluskey character came in and reformed it, turning
In the colca canyon
This is before we nearly karked it on the biggest climb ever... into a den of vice, erm I mean virtue...
From here we went on a trek through the worlds deepest canyon (according to Nestor our guide) although it might be the 2nd deepest...who cares really, cos its farkin deep. We know cos we walked all the way into it and then all the way back out in two days of roasting days and freezing nights. All this at an altitude of over 3000 metres. This might sound like nothing, cos goddam thats only 3 km, right? Nope, it aint, cos at this altitude even climbing a staircase leaves you puffing like Thomas the tank engine, or a fat lad at sunday morning footie. We sweated much, serously envying our germanic ubermensch friend, Stefan who steamed down and up the canyon sides without breaking a sweat. Stefan had a misspent youth in the GDR and in the former East German army...oh and he was a shepherd (what my careers advisor at school told me I should be, seriously) and well safe. Nestor our guide, who grew up in the canyon also had no problems and actually sang all the way up the toughest section of the climb! This seriously pissed
Midday in the Oasis
Relaxin without knowing the pain about to be unleashed... Marcela off, cos she had such bad issues with the climb that she had to resort to mule propulsion. Nestor was great though and showed us all the local flora, and was extremely proud of the natural products that the local people used medicinally...not including the hallucinogenic cactuses and seeds which he said were only used by western tourists. There was even a plant that they used for burning off warts and verucas (jonty).
At the bottom of the canyon there is a small oasis, which has been turned from an orchard into a small rest stop with pools of warm spring water and bamboo cabins. We enjoyed a relaxing couple of hours here before the beastage of the 3000 metre ascent out of the canyon.
We left Arequipa the following night at 7pm, Cusco-bound. We were due to arrive at 5am in Cusco, the city of the Incas...instead the bus stopped at 3.30am in the middle of nowhere. "What, what?" we cried...and we were told that the local people were blocking the road...for how long we wailed? Nobody knew and some cheerful soul commented that we could be there indefinitely "we´re doomed I tell ye, doomed!" It
Long live the strike...
...down with the free trade agreement was freezing cold and we ended up awake at 7.00am. With the daylight we discovered that we were one bus in a long queue of about 10 buses and 20 lorries all stuck in front of a barricade of stones defended by hundreds of well organised campesinos. After asking around we were told that they were protesting against the signing of the free trade agreement with the US (which would destroy their livelihoods through the import of subsidised agricultural produce from the US of A (holes). We later found out that the protest was a region wide initiative with hundreds of kilometres of roads affected. The result for us was 11 hours of sitting helplessly in this tiny place, consoled by the beautiful scenery and the local women selling food and drink by the roadside. I ate guinea pig for the first time (it tastes like chicken....naaaaaah it doesn't really, more like rabbit). And also I think I contracted gut worms from a refreshing glass of local chicha. Skall!
Anyways, we arrived in Cusco late on friday night and found our hostal had kept our reservation. Good job really cos the climb up the old inca steps to find it nearly killed us. We have been here for two days now and this place is truly incredible. Much love to our inca bredren, no love to those dastardly spanish conquistadores.
Tomorrow we are off on an alternative inca trail where we will enter machu pichu from behind (phwaar....for all you Viz readers) after a four day trek...Marcela is loving it as you can imagine, and she actually wants to join the ramblers association as soon as we get back. Her only doubt is that there are no 4600 metre climbs in the UK, and she is worried that the walks might not be challenging enough. Well we gotta go, a 4am start tomorrow...
much love,
V and M.
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Martha
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Hello Vic and Marce Great to read your blogs - keep 'em coming! This last one really brightened up my lunch-hour, really had to suppress my laughter! Especially that last paragraph (pobre Marcelita...). BTW, Vic, talking of Andalucias and Spanish-sounding locations, me and Matt are going to Valencia for a week in July (mum said it came highly recommended by you...?). Very excited. Even more excited about having my sis and my bro and co. back in Blighty! Even Matt misses you lot! Loads of love, MP x