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After a quick
wash and brush up, we are off to see the city. Our first destination
is the venerable Convent of Santa Catalina. Peruvians only pay S/.
5.00 entry, but I am charged S/. 30.00 as a gringo, which is a bit
steep by Peruvian standards. T his convent, after 400 years of isolation,
had just been opened to the public during my previous visit. Today
it is much as I remembered it. Covering an entire city block, it comprises
of narrow lanes, plazuelas, churches, chapels and the simple cells where
the nuns had dwelt, all painted in brilliant colonial colours. Literally
it is a city within a city. We took several hours to investigate
all the twists and turns of this fascinating spot. Interestingly enough
there are still nuns in residence, but in a newer annex that can be glimpsed
from one of the alleys.
We are accosted by touts from the diverse restaurants around the square, and select one on the upper level. We snack on fried cheese nuggets (delicious) and spicy stuffed peppers (rocoto relleno) topped off with a satisfying “Arequipeña” lager beer. Following this refreshing pause, we circle the plaza and enter the elaborate Compañia de Jesus church. Built by the Jesuits in the XVIIth. century, the carved façade in white sillar stone is most impressive. Its pulpit in carved wood and its old sacristy, known as the Sistine Chapel of Arequipa, is the work of anonymous indigenous artists, who created the masterpieces in their own colour, their own motives and their own spirit. We continue wandering the cobbled streets down to the Chili River that runs through the city. Crossing the ancient stone bridge, we note that unlike other Latin American rivers, this one doesn’t seem to be used as a garbage dump. There are signs all over the place threatening death and dismemberment to anyone even thinking about tossing their rubbish into this relatively pristine waterway. By now we need sustenance, and have been recommended the restaurant “Tradiciones Arequipeñas” on Av. Dolores. We hail a taxi, (there are plenty) which is a tiny yellow Daewoo Ticos, as they all appear to be. To be caught in Peru’s chaotic traffic is often like being caught in a stampede of elephants the Tico being the scurrying mouse underfoot. Lima's tabloids frequently carry gory photos of catastrophic Tico accidents. They also represent a vital source of income for tens of thousands of struggling Peruvians who pay the equivalent of about US$ 9 to rent the cars for 12-hour shifts, and then drive like maniacs to recoup their expenses and turn a modest profit. Fortunately Arequipa is much more sedate than Lima, so although it is a squash for four people, we take a Tico to the restaurant without mishap or fear of being crushed in the Sunday evening hush! Our 15 minute taxi ride cost us the princely sum of S/. 5.00 (US$ 1.50). We arrive at 7.00 PM, and with the exception of one other family, find ourselves quite alone in this vast agglomeration of chalet style open restaurant and gardens. We order the most famous dish of Arequipa cuisine, “Chupe de Camarones”. This is hearty chowder, with our plate piled high with fresh-water crawfish. It is a meal in itself and dinner for four, with all the trimmings, came to just US$38.00. Coupled with copious Arequipeña beers, we considered this a great end to a busy and interesting day. Tuesday
29th May
We then cross over the old iron bridge, originally a railway bridge built at the foundry of none other than Gustave Eiffel, and assembled here after being shipped from France. We pass through the city centre to the outlying village of Sabandia where we visit the old mill. Constructed in 1785; it represents the typical architecture of the zone where the use of sillar stone predominates. It is characterized by solid supports and rustic balconies. Stone grinding wheel techniques for wheat and corn processing can be viewed here as well. It was restored in 1973 and the attractive gardens are now a favourite picnic spot for families on weekends. All along the way we view patches of emerald oasis between the buildings. These little eco-enclaves of diverse agricultural production have now all been protected from construction by the city, much to the chagrin of the landowners, hoping to have made a pretty penny as the city advanced over their property. Luis finally drops us off at the hotel, and we sadly bid farewell to your trusty friend. We spend a few moments cleansing the grime of today’s dusty drive, then sally forth into downtown Arequipa. Our first visit is to the famed chocolate outlet, “La Iberica”. This firm has been making fine chocolates and marzipan for almost 100 years in Arequipa. It’s pleasing to see that their products are still in great demand, as the shop was very busy indeed. We take the opportunity of stocking up on presents for friends and family.
While she is trying on shoes, my companions and I cross the street to enjoy ice cream. I order my favourite, lúcuma. This exotic Peruvian fruit was once known as the "Gold of the Incas". It has strong fragrance and a flavour similar to maple with a firm and rich pumpkin-like pulp that is orange/yellow in colour. The lúcuma fruit has been honored both spiritually and culinary since ancient times in the Peruvian culture. This popular flavouring for ice cream here even exceeds the demand for more globally accepted flavors such as strawberry, chocolate, and vanilla. We are halfway through our repast when Miryam comes rushing across the street. The store cannot accept her credit card as the only official document she has, her Peruvian ID card, is in her maiden name. I have to leave my precious ice cream to come over to the shoe department and use my credit card, which after much consultation, is acceptable with my U.S. driver license. By the time I get back, the ice cream has melted. On the way home, Miryam decides to phone her mother in Lima. There is no lack of “locotorios”. A locotorio is an improvised communication centre usually with phones and often with computers too. It’s a cyber café without the cyber or café. No two are the same and there at least a couple on every block. The price is measured by the length of the call, and costs pennies. In spite of the fact that Miryam phoned home from the wilds of the Colca Valley from one, for some reason she is unable to connect from here. We are too weary to wait around any more, as we have been up since 6:00 am, so we totter back to the hotel. Wednesday 30th.
After a quick visit to a humungous Banco de Credito to replenish our funds from the ATM, we visit the Post Office. My granddaughter collects stamps, so I am going to get her the latest commemorative sets for her collection. The impressive building had a philately counter, and we were soon going through the colourful new issues. Regrettably Peru, just like so many other countries today uses franking machines and it is often quite difficult to encounter real postage stamps. We visit two colonial mansions, the magnificent Casa del Moral, built around 1730 and named not after high morals, but for an ancient blackberry bush (moral) that grows in the courtyard. It’s a gem of a house, with rooms full of period furniture and paintings and well worth the S/. 5.00 entrance fee. The other mansion is the Palacio Goyeneche, an elegant 17th. century town home, now belonging to the Central Bank of Peru. Regrettably we are only permitted to enter the outside patios, as the rest of the building is in use as bank offices. Finally we visit the world renowned Andean Sanctuaries Museum, where the remains of Juanita, the frozen and mummified sacrifice to the mountain gods are found. This 12-14 year old girl was sacrificed around 500 years ago by the Incas to appease the mountain god of Apu Ampato. Her discovery at the summit of the Ampato Volcano was pure serendipity. In 1995 the neighbouring volcano Sabancaya was in eruption, and had partially melted the permanent ice cap at the peak of Ampato. Anthropologists Johan Reinhard and Antonio Chavez had already located several deteriorated remains of sacrificial victims lower down the mountain, and had decided to climb to the top to see if the melt had revealed any additional clues. When glancing down into the dormant crater, they noticed a colourful bundle that seemed to have recently tumbled into the caldera. On retrieving it they found they had in their hands the still frozen almost perfect ancient funeral bundle of a young girl. Had they arrived a day later, the remains would have lost the protective coat of ice and decomposition would have set in rapidly. She now resides in a splendid museum built within the colonial cloisters of Santa Maria Catholic University. It is awesome to be able to peer into her face in the semidarkness of the exhibit hall. After this
fascinating visit, we pass by a tempting sign offering an executive three-course
luncheon with beverage at S/. 5.00. We can just about afford US$ 1.50 for
lunch at this time, so avail ourselves of the astonishing offer. None the
less, my companions are not impressed. They advise us that in Trujillo,
where they live, we would get this same menu for S/. 4.00.
We arrive promptly at the airport, the flight leaves punctually and in no time at all we are relaxing once more at our hotel in Miraflores. After our experience,
could we say that Arequipa is one of the five best places to retire in
Latin America? I think that as far as quality of life is concerned, it’s
a winner. It has a climate to die for, it’s a pretty town with a thriving
cultural life, and it’s clean, safe and very inexpensive. It is close to
the coast (about 1-hour drive) and only a 1-hour flight from Lima. It takes
about 12 hours to get to Arequipa from Miami. If you leave Miami on the
midnight Lima flight, you can be in Arequipa by noon that same day, connecting
in Lima. Would we live there? It’s certainly not off the books at this
moment.
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The
main street of Arequipa is narrow and not impressive as shopping streets
go (there are U.S. style shopping malls in the suburbs), nevertheless Miryam
finds a nice department store, and scrutinizes the shoe department. Even
in Peru you have to be careful to find out where things are made.
Imagine coming all the way to Arequipa and finding when you get home that
you have bought shoes made in China.
