Fear and Loathing in Las Americas

After a two week backpacking binge through Peru and Bolivia, any attempt to recount all of our exploits will be hazy at best; notwithstanding, I will try to chronicle our adventures based on the plethora of digital photos taken along the way. Our three days in Lima were divided appropriately between three of the capital’s most important neighborhoods: the sprawling southern sector of Chorillos; the modern tourist Mecca of Miraflores and the bohemian barrio of Barranco. The addition of Rob as a touring partner opened several doors, both literally and figuratively, as I felt less intimidated riding in unmarked taxis or staying at unaccredited hostels. A funny anecdote found us in a seedy part of town where vendors walked among traffic selling “TAXI” roof ornaments, implying the ease at which an unemployed citizen can pose as a taxista. Likewise, our experience proved that there is absolutely no correlation between comfort and the number of stars advertised, as hotels use the “honor system” to designate their level of quality. From shared rooms to uncarpeted floors, we never found our accommodations unbearable although hot showers were always elusive.

As for culture, we got some of that too! The erudite traveler may find our omission of Lima’s outstanding museums boorish but, in our defense, we did take pleasure in most of Peru’s culinary offerings. Although the lomo saltado, ceviche, and chicharron, were all delectable, we found the pisco sour to be our personal favorite. After enjoying the smooth blend of brandy, egg whites, and lime juice we spent our afternoons walking along the Avenida Bolognesi and the Costa Verde, taking in the colonial architecture and the first world high rises, respectively. The apex our of sightseeing was a night tour of the city center in which we saw Lima’s principal plazas illuminated at night, including the nearly 500-year-old presidential palace which was constructed by conquistador Francisco Pizzaro himself. Throughout the three-hour tour Rob had to endure an 84-year-old Peruvian who insisted he spoke Spanish and proceeded to recount his life’s conquests in a half-intelligible castellano.

After three days of Peru’s chaotic capital, we decided to part for Arequipa in the south. The taxing bus ride began just above sea level and left us gasping at over 8,000ft nearly 18-hours later. Our first day was spent doing little more than acclimating to the altitude, although the intimate size of Arequipa allowed us to tour the city’s historic center in a few hours. The city’s Plaza de Armas is said to be the most beautiful in all of Peru and in my opinion may be the most handsome in the world. Surrounded on three sides by colossal colonial balconies, the 16th century cathedral rises high above a snowcapped backdrop. Further exploration saw an equally antiquated (and still functioning) Franciscan monastery that serves as the Arequipa’s main attraction. I would be lying if I left out our discovery of the night life, in which we visited a three story night club where Rob and I found ourselves learning to dance salsa with two beautiful ariquipeñas until the early hours of the morning. Rob probably could have stayed a few more days with his Peruvian paramour but our travels led us in another direction.