Advertisement
Published: December 5th 2007
Once the Nasca Lines and the Mummies had been experienced the truck continues thru the coastal dessert of Peru. Who knew? So much brown and beige…. So much arid landscape…. So much the look of desolation…. People live in many places in varying types of homes … all run down looking and all possessed of masses of sand!
The next stop is Puerta de Inka. This port is the place that in ancient times supplied the inland pueblos with fresh fish and other trade commodities. Runners ran hundreds of kilometers inland to administrative places like Machu Picchu to let leaders know the latest developments.
Ruins of living spaces and storage facilities lie behind the superb hotel called Puerta de Inka. Rooms and cabins are available. A Dragoman over landing truck pulled in after us and that group stayed in the cabins.
Camp is struck on the beach. I meet Renate and Ingo from Germany. They invited me into their camper and we have a pleasant visit. They will come to see me in Canada and I will visit them. They live close to my cousin Klara near Cologne.
A walk to the ruins, sunset on the beach,
making new friends, dinner on the truck and a good shower led to a restful night by the sea. The surf beats rhythmically and becomes a lullaby.
On the 25th of October the ocean highway brought us too Arequipa. It is a colonial town with a main Plaza that was an immediate hit with a number in our group. After a few times around the square during which time we were treated to the sight of a Father Christmas in a green suit, the secure parking space big enough for the ’monster’ is reached.
The promised five minute walk turns into a much longer haul. Haul because all that is needed had to be taken from the truck and brought to the hotel for the three night stay. This is not an easy manoeuvre. The streets arefull of people. A backpack, a day pack, a plastic bag and the laptop bag soon make it difficult to walk smoothly to the San Phillip Real Hotel.
I am in a room with Kate. The front walls of the room are totally of glass. The room can not be locked with a key from inside. There is NO
window. After three days the room stinks!
After dumping our stuff at the hotel its back to the wonderful square. The lights are magic. One night I ate dinner in one of the restaurants high above the lit Plaza.
On the Friday the 26th I took the city tour bus. It drove all around and then outside the city. The streets were congested. This gave me plenty of time to look around and shoot some interesting pictures.
The bus took us to a Factory Outlet for Alpaca and Llama products. Nothing cheap here! There were even a few animals in a small stall besides the building. Besides learning the difference between alpaca and llama a vicuna was also on display. Try as I might I cannot buy vicuna wool. More than one merchant of alpaca wool has told me it is under government control and only for export.
After a longer drive the bus came to a church tower that was climbed by all. The 150 steps were worth the view. All of Arequipa lay at our feet. What was very noticeable was the infringement of housing projects on the rich farm land. The guide
on the bus said that in twenty years it would look even worse.
Also on the tour was the grandly refurbished house of the man who developed Arequipa originally. The house has had many owners, even an English family. Now architects have taken over the place and opened it for public viewing of a part of the town’s history. The place is also available for weddings, birthdays and any other kind of party.
The first look out showed us another side of Arequipa. Here stood an alpaca waiting to be petted. Behind the building was seen a cage full of guinea pigs waiting to be eaten. Some had babies. When talking to the man at the hotel he told me he had ten cages at home. In each cage he had nine females and one male. His family eats Cuye at least twice a month and always on any special occasion. Eating a good supply of alfalfa a cuye can be big enough to eat in two weeks. Alfalfa is sold at all markets by the big bundle. When you live in the city and have your cuye cage in the kitchen you need to buy alfalfa at
the market.
The last and most interesting place to be visited was an old mill. The water still runs. The grist stone still grinds and the water wheel still chugs along in a most pleasant rhythm. Available at this stop were horse rides. Many young locals and school children squealed with glee at the prospect of such fun. In the field behind the mill a vicuna chased a small boy. A few moments later this slender footed, narrow faced, somewhat tiny creature took on a cow that was passing on the way home with its herd and cowman. There was a fence between the two creatures. Good thing too because the cow dog also entered the fray.
The most important building in the city, in my mind, is the Santa Catalina Convent. The tour bus drove by the place and many other impressive buildings but the Convent warranted a separate visit. After paying S/30 the building was entered by a turnstile. On the way in could be seen the private turn-around where food, gifts and babies were left to be accessed by the nuns who observed a vow of silence and solitude.
This convent was built for
rich women who for one reason or another entered the cloister. In most families one daughter became a nun so as to assure a place in heaven for the rest of the family. These women lived high on the hog while in Santa Catalina. They came with a dowry of S2000. They enjoyed the services of indigenous or slave maids. Tea sets decorated in gold were used when the bishop came for tea. Toilet necessities like chamber pot, washbasin, pitcher, pail and cup were all in the same pattern. After serving the novitiate years in total seclusion the women enjoyed a somewhat private dwelling place with kitchen bedroom and small courtyard. Relations may have shared a space. Women in the upper realms of the hierarchy enjoyed more space.
Streets were built and the convent grew to encompass a whole city square. Today 35 nuns remain in the convent. A modern living area has been built to house these women ranging from the ages of 18 to 94. They raise money by charging S30 as an entrance fee, making cream out of rose petals and selling parsley soap. The nuns have always done charitable works and that also still continues.
The guide who told the story in English did a fantastic job and was justly rewarded.
The only place not visited was the Cemetery because this part of the original convent is still being used. During the tour we did see the lying in room and death portraits of some of the nuns.
After three hours of wandering around a very well preserved place it was time to get back to the real world.
And that took the shape of following some men up a set of stairs under the arched arcade. About a dozen Pisco companies were giving away free samples. After tasting most of them, and becoming just a bit tipsy it was time for lunch.
Pisco is Peruvian brandy. Some that was tasted was extremely smooth. That would have been the one that won all the prizes. Another sample was brandy and milk and either coffee or chocolate … too tips to tell. Only know it was so good a bottle was bought.
Learned that Pisco Sour is an extremely good drink, famous in Peru and available in quick form by buying a ready mix adding brandy and shaking vigorously. The recipe for mixing
the drink from scratch is a bit more involved … egg white, bitters, squeezed limes, ice and an electric mixer. Do not forget the Pisco!
By three in the afternoon I was dead on my feet because I had been watching TV until three in the morning the night before.
After having a small rest a most pleasant meal of alpaca steak, llama steak and beef steak was enjoyed at the ZigZag Restaurant. The pieces were small and served on a hot stone. Each meat had a small flag on it saying what type of meat it was. A bib was provided because of the spattering grease. The accompanying salad was a special concoction of avocado, onion, tomato and unique sauce.
Anticipating an early morning start, being somewhat tired and having a cough coming on I retire early ... dreaming of condors.
Advertisement
Tot: 0.128s; Tpl: 0.014s; cc: 12; qc: 32; dbt: 0.0971s; 1; m:domysql w:travelblog (10.17.0.13); sld: 1;
; mem: 1.1mb
