x domingo x

D L M M J V S Destino: Arequipa, Perú

1 2 3 4 5 6 7
8 9 10 11 12 13 14
Modo: Avión y Taxi
15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 de diciembre
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29 30 31 Distancia: 515 kilómetros
Santiago de Chile a Arequipa, Perú

Yet another day of international transit. Today would see us making

two separate flights in two different countries on two competing airlines.
Today also marked the first leg of our journey into Perú, the third country
on our itinerary. With packs full and energy levels depleted, Andy and I
were both dragging our feet when the alarms sounded at 5:30.
Compounding the obvious sleep deprivation and liver irrigation was a
healthy dose of Sunday guilt for our hedonistic behavior over the past
seventy-two hours in Santiago. In retrospect, it was a miracle that one of
us had not ended up in the hospital or on the front page of El Mercurio.
After showering and packing, we cranked out a quick “thank you”
note to John who was still sleeping on his day off. We could only
assume that he was either having El Mercurio: The Mercury. Chile’s
sweet dreams about waking up most popular daily newspaper.
San lunes: Saint Monday.
to an empty apartment or A self-proclaimed holiday when one
nightmares that we would never chooses not go to work on Monday
leave. The feelings of guilt over after a long weekend.
Vamos al aeropuerto: We’re going
our three-day imposition were to the airport. Vamos is the first person
lessened dramatically by the fact plural form of the verb ir (to go).
piojo: kid, child
that John had been a willing
participant in our Santiago beveragefest. So much so that we could
imagine John starting the week off with a much-deserved San lunes.
Without making a sound, we left our note on the kitchen counter and
snuck out the front door. Outside on Avenida O’Higgins, we immediately
flagged down a cab to the airport at 7:00.
Given our current states of mind and stomach, the choice of taxis
could not have been worse. The taxista did not look a day over eighteen,
leading us to believe that he was borrowing the cab from papá. When we
told him “Vamos al aeropuerto,” his eyes lit up. Even though we were not
in a hurry to make our 9:00 flight, the piojo was obviously watering at
the mouth. The adrenaline-tinged grin on his face reflected his exuberance

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at having the chance to Renault redline Santiago Hyperspace
through Santiago’s nearly deserted
Sunday morning streets. I say “nearly”
because we had more than one close
call with slow-moving pedestrians and
cyclists downtown.
Forty kilometers and fifteen
minutes later, the rebel taxista pulled Han Piojo’s Millenium Taxi
directly into a reserved parking spot and wished us well up north. Once
inside Arturo Merino Benítez Internacional, we checked in at the
LanChile counter and headed to the salón de
desembarque. Andy caught up on the current issue
of The Economist while I dined on a scrambled egg
sandwich chased with some lukewarm café con leche.
As expected, the LanChile flight backed away from
the gate on time at 9:00. Once again, the in-flight food
was nothing short of spectacular: panqueques con dulce de
“Peanuts, Mister Bond?” leche, pan, una copa de
fruta, yogur con sabor de
frutilla, jugo and café. The quality of the
fare was only surpassed by the beauty of
the azafatas on board. One green-eyed
blonde in particular named Carla left us
both speechless.
Carla surveys the aisle At 11:30, we touched down in the
northernmost city in Chile’s Atacama Desert, Arica. Only a handful of
adjectives like “flat” and “arid” could be used to describe the City of Eternal
Spring. Still, this town of 140,000 has an oasis-like quality thanks to the
dark-sand Pacific beaches that are quite popular with Chileans and
Bolivians alike. In addition to being a convenient beach outlet, landlocked
neighbor Bolivia depends on Arica as its main port.

Arid Extra Extra Dry Palm Concourse Flowers Give Our Life

Hot Tarmac in Arica Arica International An Eternal Spring

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 Inside the Arica terminal we grabbed our mochilas and tracked down
a taxista, Manuel, who would take us north across the Chilean border to
Tacna, Perú for 10,000 pesos. That rate seemed reasonable considering
that Manuel would handle all of our paperwork at the Chile/Perú border.
We piled into the back seat of his Atacama Burma Shave
olive green four-door Chevy and raced
through the Atacama on an empty
stretch of unpaved two-lane road.
Minutes later, a small toll booth rose
on the horizon. Unfortunately the
lanes leading into Perú were not divided
into Exact Change, Change Receipts and Signs in the Desert
E-Pass. Evidently, our options included Stop and Get out of the Car or
Turn Around and Go Back to Chile. We assumed that Manuel had opted
for the former when he stopped the car and asked for our passports.

Less than an hour later, we were in Tacna where Manuel dropped us

off downtown. When we inquired about local currency, he told us that
salón de desembarque: airport gate we could change our Chilean pesos
copa de fruta: fruit cup for Peruvian nuevos soles around the
sabor de frutilla: strawberry flavor
casa de cambio: currency exchange corner. After paying and thanking
cerrado: closed. Open is abierto. Manuel, we set off in search of a casa
de cambio. Interestingly, every window had a “cerrado” sign which we
took as a bad omen. In fact, the only group conducting business
downtown was a merry band of calculator-toting street peddlers on the
steps of a small church. It turned out that these locals were Tacna’s official
exchange bank and, according to our weathered travel guide, would give
us the best peso to nuevos soles rate possible.
With fresh Peruvian jack in hand, we crossed the street to a small café
for some lunch and relaxation. Andy commented on my bravery for
eating un sandwich de pollo in this less-than-sanitary environment. The
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café’s bathroom alone deserved a chapter. Andy,
meanwhile, had the courage to order up a piece
of the postre du jour on display in the glass counter.
The day-glo green slab looked as if the Incas
themselves might have prepared it, and,
unfortunately, my chicken did not look or taste
much better.
While not earning high marks from AAA for food quality or baño
beauty, our little café did score high
marks for having a color television.
We watched the afternoon news from
Lima and popped some pink Pepto
pastillas por si acaso. Before long,
Andy was slumped over the table with
his eyes closed. My only hope was
that he was, in fact, asleep and not dead from eating the mystery pie.
At 14:00, we decided to stroll around the city, since we still had five
hours to kill before the night flight to Arequipa. We walked through the
city’s central square which was an eclectic mixture of a fountain sculpted
by Eiffel, a stone arch resembling the one in St. Louis, the Peruvian flag
and, the centerpiece of the town, a giant thatch-roof gazebo. Further on,
the Cathedral, the largest and most-visited structure in town, was closed,
so we decided to take our two-man show on out to Tacna International.
The Tacna terminal was small and uncrowded. We were able to find
a couple of molded plastic seats where we could alternate naps and keep
an eye on the mochilas. Around 17:00, the AeroPeru gate agent came
over the intercom to announce that baggage check-in would begin shortly.
This announcement would prove to be slightly premature. The flight
would not leave for another three hours.
To pass the time, Andy and I resorted to cerveza. There was a roving
beer cart in the departure lobby that I managed to track down with all of
postre:dessert the stealth and cunning of The Aussie
pastillas: pills, tablets Hunter. Andy and I shared two rounds of
por si acaso: just in case. Also
expressed as por las dudas. refreshing Arequipeña while recounting and
Arequipeña: Arequipa’s local beer laughing about our lost weekend in
Santiago: That Temuco train ride was one of the longest nights in my post-
collegiate career. Did we really take a nap in the middle of downtown

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Santiago? Do you remember falling on the dance floor at the brewpub? I
think we really impressed a lot of people that night. How many rounds of
Pisco did we have? Did that girl really tell you that she had to work all
weekend...I think that she was just trying to get rid of you. I wish that we
could have brought Samantha with us. If you had to choose between job
offers in Buenos Aires and Santiago, which would you pick and why? Me too.
At 20:00, we finally boarded AeroPeru flight #492 to
Arequipa. The flight was only thirty-five minutes long and
dinner consisted of a delightful AeroPeru individually-
wrapped lemon drop. We touched down in Arequipa at
21:00, grabbed our packs and jumped in the back of a waiting
taxi. The driver, Edgar, was a nice fellow who took us to a
hostel on Calle Jerusalén called Nuñez.
While waiting for Andy to scope the place out and pay twenty-six
nuevos soles for one night’s lodging, Edgar floored me with some friendly
advice: “No se queden aquí. Vayan directamente a Cusco mañana.” This
subtle aviso made me think that this town of one million was probably
not the best place for a couple of North Americans to be hanging out.
It was no secret that many Arequipeños had been actively involved
with Sendero Luminoso which had embraced a sort of militant
communism that rejected most Western religious and ideological
traditions. Despite the capture of many of their leaders, including Abimael
Guzmán in September of 1992, many proud Andeans and former Sendero
activists still harbored a strong anti-U.S. sentiment.
Edgar’s warning was further reinforced by the hostel owner who gave
us similar advice. We asked about restaurants in the area, and he advised
us against straying too far off No se queden aqui: Don’t stay here.
Vayan directamente a Cusco: You all should
the beaten shining path. We go straight to Cusco.
settled on a nice pizza place aviso: notice, warning
three blocks away called Sendero Luminoso: Shining Path. Peruvian
communist movement which adopted a rural
Pizzería San Antonio. The fundamentalist approach in opposition to
atmosphere was warm with a Peru’s transition to civilian rule in the late 70s.

white bar, bright yellow walls and eight wooden tables, two of which
were occupied by groups of South American and European travelers.
The huge fireplace in the rear also served as the oven for the delicious,
rectangular pizzas. The walls were covered with assorted graffiti from all
corners of the globe. Scrawled in one corner was a simple two-word

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“Viva River.” This was a clear indication that some proud porteños had
dined here as well. Other scribbled comments shed considerable light on
public opinion of Alberto Fujimori and his handling of national affairs.
Post-pizza, we went straight back to the Nuñez via Calle Jerusalén and
picked up a liter of agua sin gas for drinking and tooth-brushing.
Morning view down Andy climbs in the

Calle Jerusalén back of Edgar’s Taxi

The Nuñez was definitely one of my favorite hostels of the trip.
Entering the lobby through a giant carved doorway, guests step into a
long, white courtyard. A narrow stairwell off of the courtyard leads to a
winding series of second-story ¡Viva River!: Go River! Reference to
Buenos Aires’ River Plate fútbol club.
passageways. The accessible rooftop la segunda ciudad: second city
is a random mixture of umbrellas, más importante: most important
blanca: white
folding lawn chairs and clotheslines. piedra de sillar: petrified volcanic ash
Unfortunately, we would not have tripulación: airline flight crew
Inka Kola: The carbonated beverage of
time to enjoy our evening view of choice in Perú. Tastes Great, Looks
The City of the Volcanoes. It was Weird...This cola is fluorescent yellow.
already 1:00 and we had to be rolling in four short hours.

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