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Updated: December 18, 2001
Lima, Peru
So far my Peruvian adventure has been broken into pretty much three distinct segments: Peru, Arequipa, and Andagua. It will probably be easiest to discuss them separately. If you are following me on a map, you can’t miss Lima so I won’t tell you where it is. Arequipa is pretty far to the south, just a little bit inland, and forget finding Andagua on any map.
I don’t really have a lot to say about Lima. It is generally dirty, crowded, and poor. There isn’t, I am afraid, a whole lot to recommend it except that you need to go there to travel anywhere else in Peru. In my case, I spent about five days in Lima. This is primarily because my girlfriend is studying in Lima this year and was still in the middle of exams when I arrived. Therefore, I harbour no ill feelings towards Lima as I spent those five days blissfully catching up on my romantic life. Other than that, I shall try to exclude said romantic life from the rest of my posts to this site!
The most striking aspect of Lima is not the poverty. In Ukraine I saw the same painful poverty, the same grubby children begging on the street, and saw all the same useless junk being sold by people who have nothing else to do with their lives. The biggest difference is that Lima (and Peru in general) totally lacks infrastructure. In Ukraine the Soviets at least built railways, and subways, and big administrative buildings while they were starving their subjects. In Lima, people starve and don’t even get stuff.
Amongst other things, this makes public transit in Lima an absolute mess. However, if you have a local guide (e.g. my girlfriend) you can get virtually anywhere. The transit system is composed of privately owned busses, mostly old vans with bus-style seats installed. The system is rather paradoxical. Several bus-owners get together and agree to run the same routes. Then they compete mercilessly for those routes. This means that they are in a constant war to reach major corners before their competitors (contributing to chaotic road traffic, which, among other things demand not STOPPING at intersections, but rather honking your horn loudly as you fly through).
For a tourist it would be virtually impossible to figure out which busses are going where. Each bus has a Peruvian bloke hanging out the side constantly hollering his destinations and trying to convince you that you definitely want to ride his bus even if it is going the wrong way. At any point you can signal a bus to stop for you – bus stops are a lost concept in Peru. With Megan leading the way it was actually pretty fun.
That said, the city is filthy. The oceanfront bits are marked by putrid brown water crashing onto rocky shores. The air is a constant haze and the air reminds me of the polluted air gracing my home (Houston), but slightly more odiferous. The sun virtually never shines. Lima has an odd climate that way: always cloudy, never raining. This means that dust is everywhere. It is impossible to go anywhere in Lima without being covered in dust.
My time in Lima was largely uneventful: hanging out with my girlfriend, reading a bit, going to local (extremely cheap) restaurants, and wandering around when Megan had some free time. Probably the most interesting thing we did was go out to Miraflores. Miraflores is the side of Lima that most travellers usually see. Most of the hostels and hotels are there. It is quite upscale. The roads are nice and the police presence is evident. Crime is low, and you can dine at Pizza Hut, TGI Friday’s and just about every other western chain you could choose. You can also have the privilege of paying western prices for these wonderful prices. Unfortunately, as much as I would love to hate the whole place because of all that, it is rather pretty. It is unfortunate that only gringos can afford to go there.
All in all, it’s not really worth the visit though. Except for the cliffs. If you follow the Miraflores roads past Burger King and the first 24 hour McDonald’s I’ve ever seen you will eventually end up at the ocean. At night, you can’t tell that the water is polluted and if you stroll down the road running along the cliffs until the first-world neon has faded you can sit quite peacefully and watch the ocean crash pleasantly into the rocks below. To your left you can see a giant glowing cross high on a cliff: crosses on cliffs are a popular motif in South America.
But the most bizarre part of Lima was leaving it. After Megan’s exams finished we hopped the first bus to Arequipa, a 15 hour monstrosity of a bus ride. However, I find myself totally unable to complain. Unlike most Peruvian bus services, when travelling between Lima and major destinations you can get top notch busses. In our case, we had the front seats of the bus, proving a panoramic view of the landscape (during the daylight hours, of course). Meals were provided, heat was available, and frankly I can’t think of a better way to spend fifteen hours on a bus if one has to do so. We would soon encounter slightly less exciting busses.
What made the ride wonderful though was the landscape. The Peruvian desert is one of the driest places on Earth. The landscape consists of nothing but brown, brown, and more brown. Mostly the same shade of brown. Giant cliffs of brown drop into the sea to the west while sharp mountains and canyons of brown create a veritable moonscape to the east. The most amazing part is to watch the waves crashing into this entire scene of brown. It seems impossible that such desolation can border the beautiful blue ocean which works its way into the coast in huge waves which smash into the bizarre rock formations with tremendous power.
Remarkably, every once and a while we would pass a tiny settlement of huts made from tied together logs. The larger settlements also had a plaster restaurant, usually advertising fresh pescado (fish). At one point I had to double take as I saw a stick-constructed hut just off the road. I had seen no settlement for fifty miles, nor did I see one for another fifty. How these people survive, I could not venture to guess. Frankly, this summarizes much of Peru’s problems. Half the country is impossibly dry desert, while the rest is impossibly impenetrable jungle. As I continue to tell Megan: this is a stupid, stupid place to have a country.
That bus ride brings me to Arequipa. After Lima, Arequipa is a veritable paradise. For one thing, the sun shines. This alone would justify high praise after nearly a week in Lima. Beyond that though, the city itself is quite attractive. The main plaza de armas (the plaza is the center of every Peruvian town) is lined in palms with a gorgeous fountain in the center. Megan tells me it is far and away the nicest plaza she’s seen in Peru. The churches are old and colonial, made from stone and graced with truly intricate carvings all along the outside. This contrasts with the bright plaster cathedrals that blot the Lima landscape. Lots of delicious, and generally cheap restaurants hide in colonial buildings off the plaza. Most buildings (even the banks) constitute an entryway and a little outdoor plaza before the actual building. As soon as you step out of the main historical center (which we have done several times) the poverty and dirt does return. But even in its darkside Arequipa manages to retain more dignity than Lima.
On top if it all, Arequipa is in a wonderful setting. It lies in a valley bordered by towering, snow capped volcanoes. It is rare in Arequipa to look up and not see one of these beauties capping your view. I don’t want to whitewash the place: the poverty is evident, the beggars frequent, as are the men selling useless goods on every street corner. Nonetheless, it has managed to retain a dignity which seem to escape Lima.
However, there is not too much to do in Arequipa besides say “yep, that’s pretty” and to carry on English conversations with the numerous gringos walking the streets (which probably also explains the comparative wealth of Arequipa). This is because Arequipa is primarily a launching point for expeditions. Among the many things people do from Arequipa are: climb Mt. Misti (the most prominent volcano on the landscape and the easiest climb), head to Colca Canyon (which, by the pictures, appears to be an absolutely gorgeous canyon full of Incan terracing), and venture out to Cotahuasi, the home of the (allegedly) deepest canyon in the world.
Our original intention had been to take a few days to hike about Colca Canyon, and the opportunities were certainly available. You can’t walk a block without seeing a tourist agency offering treks to Colca. And the pictures provide you with good reason for taking one. However, ultimately, Megan and I decided to go a bit off the beaten path and bought tickets for the 12 hours bus to Andagua.
Andagua is a village nestled in the Vallejos de Volcanoes (yes, Valley of the Volcanoes). It can only be reached by a 12 hours bus over mostly unpaved roads. Unlike the lovely bus from Lima, this one is not graced by heat, food, bathrooms, or panoramic views. The roads wind precariously around steep canyons, and the hairpin turns frequently require two or three point turns – which fails to inspire confidence on the part of the passenger. My recommendation (which I only discovered on the return bus): several sleeping pills.
Anyhow, thus it was that we found ourselves dropped off in Andagua, a village of no more than a few hundred in the middle of bloody nowhere at about 3am in the morning. And that story will wait for my next post…
