Arequipa and Canyon Country

Arequipa ('A-re-key-pa') is Peru's second largest city, after Lima, and my first stop in the country. The road from Copacabana goes through rocky hills down to arid 'canyon coutry' - not the exotic jungles and mountains I imagined of Peru - but Arequipa itself is beautiful none the less.

 Above: Exotic Peru

Despite being surrounded by three volcanos - one active, one dormant and one extinct - and plagued by earthquakes almost every year since the Spanish arrived, the city's immaculate cobbled roads, white washed buildings, cathedral and main square (the most beautiful in Peru) have survived.

Above: Plaza de Armas from the top of the Cathedral

Above: Arequipa's cathedral with El Misti in the background

Within the city, surrounded by high walls and a huge gate, is the Monasterio de Santa Catalina. A little town in itself, the monastery (which is actually a nunnery) is a maze of walkways, hidden stair cases, gardens and beautiful courtyards filled with orange trees and fountains.

Founded in 1580 by a wealthy widow, who chose her nun from the most wealthy Spanish families, the complex was shut off to outsiders for three centuries whilst it's occupants lived it up in a lifestyle to which they were accustomed. Each nun had a number of servants, and even slaves, and huge food deliveries were recieved through rotating compartments to ensure privacy. Eventually the Pope sent a strict Dominican nun from Spain to sort things out and nuns still live there today in more modern quarters. I spend three hours exploring and around each corner (and there are a lot of corners) there is a room, or alley or plaza more beautiful than the next.

Having spent day looking at what Arequipa has to offer culturally, we decided to spend the next more actively - mountian biking down one of the city's volcanos, Chachani (the extict one). 6075 metres high (although we start at 4800m) the journey down takes three hours on sandy, rocky paths which wind back and forth down the volcano. We're kitted out with helmets, knee and elbow pads, our 'instructor' asks if we can ride a bike and off we go. Alex comes off, unhurt, at the first bend and I make several detours into the undergrowth. The path is either sand, on which it is impossible to steer or brake, or teeth chatteringly rocky. There are several 'short cuts' offered to us which I decline as they consist of cycling through the bushes to the next path below. The views would be amazing, but to take my eyes off the track would result in a collison with a bush, rock or other cyclist. I'm extremely relieved, shakey and exhaused when we make it to the bottom - Alex and I a good fifteen minutes behind the rest of our group. Just as I'm about to say 'never again!' Alex reminds me that part of our trek to Machu Picchu involves moutain biking....

Above: Our group at the top of Chachani

We spend the next day in Cabanaconde, a few hours out of Arequipa and home to one of the deepest canyons in the world, the Canon de Colca. In order to reach the beautiful oasis at the bottom we hike for two and a half hours down the 3191 gorge, spend the day lying by a river fed pool.... and catch mules back up. I tell myself that it is more for the experience of riding a mule than just being lazy. About half way up I begin to feel guilty as my little mule huffs and puffs and scrabbles up the rocky path. At the top I give my mule a grateful pat, which I don't think he appreciates.

Above: Sangalle 'The Oasis'.