The whole reason for going to Arequipa is to see the Colca Canyon because it's "amazing." Arequipa itself is a pretty nice town. After being in Puno, it seemed like a relative paradise. It has a reputation as being dangerous and the cab drivers are supposedly especially sketchy, at least that's the story. There are lots of rules about which cabs you should take and which you should avoid. I stood inside the bus terminal and checked my notes to make sure I could identify a legitimate and safe cab. But sometimes you just know. I walked outside and saw this guy in his 50's with his cab parked inside the terminal parking lot, which was the only one inside the lot and knew the guy was ok. You have to read the cab warnings for Arequipa to understand what I was so worried about but I I could tell this dude was ok. He turned out to be great and I used him many more times while I was there because he was trustworthy and cool/funny. I checked into my hostel/hotel (some are just hostels, some are hotels, some are a little of both) and checked out the town. The town has good infrastructure and restaurants and a few good bars. It, like a lot of places in Peru, was a heavy mining and agriculture area that is becoming more dependent on tourism. Lots of foreigners in any case. I just kind of hung around town for a few days and did what I do in every town - walk it. It's amazing how many people don't get out and walk. For so many people, the entire purpose of their trip is to get out of a bus and take a photo of that real and imagined culture. They never go see anything that is not in the Lonely Planet books. I find the least interesting parts of most places are the parts that I am supposed to go see. Seeing a disgruntled customer get sprayed with mustard by the guy who works for the bus company, now that's interesting!
After hanging around town for a few days and going out drinking with gay Francois from Quebec, I booked a tour of Colca Canyon which is the big attraction in the area. There was one gay bar in town that Francois wanted to visit but his boyfriend back in Canada didn't want him going alone so he told him that he would take the straight guy that he had been hanging out with (me). I told him I would go because he really wanted to go but to my small relief, it was closed down. Oh well, I guess we had to go talk to women instead. We went back to the bar we had left and I was immediately accosted by a very drunk and horny Peruvian girl. She told me she would pay me to have sex with her. We never got to a price, I decided it was time to go home before something bad happened. It would soon enough. As soon as I got back to my room and laid down I was hit by a tidal wave of nausea. I knew right away it was going to be bad. I went to the bathroom and vomit launched my dinner and three Cuba Libres into the toilet. I staggered back to bed but that only lasted about five minutes. Back to the bathroom but with the added bonus of shitting my pants. I was the most violently ill I have ever been. I spent the next seven hours retching and lying on the bathroom floor in my own filth. I awoke to an IV in my arm and paramedics/a doctor working on me. The maid heard the silence from my room and opened the door to find me passed out on the bathroom floor. They called the medics and I snapped back to consciousness as soon as the started giving me fluids. Meanwhile, the maid cleaned me up with wet towels and took my clothes away to wash them. The doctor thinks the slutty girl in the bar slipped me something. I was lucky to get home. The maid and the girl at the front desk spent the next 36 hours checking on me every hour and bringing me Gatorade until I was strong enough to get moving. They took such good care of me and I am forever in their debt.
Colca Canyon is Amazing
The tour company took mercy on me and let me rebook my Colca Canyon trip when I was feeling better. Another stroke of bad luck. I was stuck on a tour with some of the most horrendous people imaginable. Now the Europeans like to think they are such great travelers and that they are generally far superior to Americans. I have to admit they are right a lot the time. I mean, I come from a country that elected GW Bush president twice (ok once, the first was a fraud orchestrated by his brother) and where half the country still believes that Iraq and 9/11 are somehow related. Right, as much as Canada and 9/11 are related. Wait, Canada is closer to New York so maybe they are more related. Quick, call the Marines, we're marching on Toronto! People don't actually still believe that, do they? Please tell me the answer is no. Anyway, the Euros don't get a free pass any more than than the ugly American does nor the Australian guy who thinks his accent and reputation as a crocodile-hunting big wave surfer and world class beer drinker puts him beyond reproach - more on this in my forthcoming book where I break down the various types of travelers (a preview: obviously the Australian guy, the slutty chick from let's say Finland who screws every night on the bottom bunk in the dorm at the hostel, the Canadian girl who just wants to be loved, the American with an inferiority complex). Where was I? Oh yeah, the horrible Euros on my tour. First of all, I don't do tours. For many reasons but mostly because the make me claustrophobic and they always take longer than necessary to show you what it is you want to see. The tour guides always over-explain everything and it's always a crapshoot in terms of who you end up with. Unfortunately you just can't see a lot of places unless you go on a tour and so it was for Colca Canyon.
Fine, when everyone first gets on a tour bus with strangers, nobody tends to talk much. But generally by day three people will say hello to you after spending two or three entire days with you. Nope. These German assholes, French bastards, and Spanish dickheads couldn't even muster a "buenos dias" in the morning. Every day, I would get on the bus and say buenos dias to everyone. Nothing. No eye contact, not a nod, nothing. Part of this of course is the difference between travelers and tourists. Travelers talk to each other, share information, and are always aware and sensitive of the solo traveler, generally inviting the solo people in and making them feel a part of things. These people all had folders with their itineraries where every minute of every day was planned by the package tour they were on. The entire object of their trip is take and collect photos with their $3000 digital SLR cameras. EVERYTHING is a photo op for them. All they care about is the camera. And the fake culture? They eat it up. It is amazing that exactly the things they find interesting are the things I find uninteresting - a Peruvain kid dressed in traditional clothing pretending to be a llama herder, an indigenous woman with a giant eagle on her shoulder that is supposedly some long lost relative, the people who pretend to live on islands that they make out of reeds (even though the speedboat they use to go back to town every day is moored to the back of the island). Now the whole traveler vs. tourist thing can be a very snobby, elitest thing and many of the so-called travelers think that they are very cool and are always trying to one-up other travelers or prove that they are "better" travelers etc. when all they are doing is following exactly the same route as everyone else. And they are always cooler than tourists. We're all tourists at the end of the day so they need to get over themselves but the mentality is a good reference point and many "tourists" have a good mentality and approach to what they are doing. It may just be that they don't have the time or (someone else's) money to travel with. That being said, the people on my tour represented the worst of the package tour, high-impact visitor with no real interest in what's actually going on in the places they visit. They just want a good slideshow when the get home. I compare it to the twenty-somethings who go to La Paz, Bolivia and stay in their hostel for ten days doing blow, go to bed at 6 AM every day, and then say that they have "been to Bolivia." You don't need to have been there to know what I'm talking about.
Well, to be honest, Colca Canyon is pretty amazing. It would be even more amazing if you could do a trek into the canyon and really get to see it, which is possible. I talked to someone who did that and it sounds like it was even more incredible from down inside the canyon. The tours all drive along a dirt road that runs along the rim of the canyon. And there are LOTS of tours. The area is a relatively new attraction in terms of people actually knowing about and it is being bombarded by visitors and traffic. Every stopping point or turnout on the road is jammed with buses and loads of people with loads of cameras all taking photos of things that are not going to look very good on the slide show when they get home (I know because mine don't look very good). The big attraction is the condors that "live" near Condor Point. You see, the condors really did live right below condor point on the cliffs a few years ago. And then the tourists came in droves and scared them off. So now they throw dead animals on the rocks to attract the condors. Nothing like keeping the environment in its natural state. The condors are cool but I've seen them in Big Sur but it was a good opportunity for the German and French people to take a billion photos.
After seeing the condors, it was back to the little town that we stayed in the night before (I can't remember the name) for an overpriced lunch at the restaurant used by a bunch of the tour companies because, after all, this is Peru and everyone wants your money. Many of the families in town make their livings through tourism so I guess it is good for them in the end. But there is so much cultural dilution and drugs and things like prostitution that come along with the tourist dollars that I am not entirely certain it's worth it in the end. I won't even get started on the trash and what to do with it. That is an entire entry of its own. After lunch it was back on the bus for five hours of nobody speaking to me or making eye contact. Needless to say, I was the FIRST person off the bus back in Arequipa. Douchebags.
One side story. I was walking back to my dungeon of a room at 2 in the morning in the little town and I stumbled (no, I mean stumbled) onto this Incan woman cooking french fries on this side street. I couldn't resist. I had no idea the Inca were known for their french fries. I knew that they built Macchu Pichu, hereded llamas, made cool hats out of Alpaca, and were slaughtered by the Spanish. But french fries? I need to franchise this lady. I tasted one and it was perhaps the best fry I had ever had. I was going to wait until I got back to my room and sit down and really enjoy with the one beer I knew I had left. I walked through the dark streets and was almost at the gate to my "hotel" and I said to myself, "oh shit, I don't need this." A pack of four dogs took up an aggressive stance around me and one had even grabbed my pant leg. I knew I should have gotten the rabies shots. I picked up a rock when he pulled away and slammed in the head with it. He yelped and backed off which left me three to deal with. One little terrier-looking asshole of a dog that I particularly wanted to kill. I had already thrown a rock at him earlier. I couldn't even lean down to get another rock because they would come at me when I did. I only had one other choice. Throw the fries and make a run for it. The little fuckers were more than happy to chase my snack across the street and I was able to get behind the gate. I drank my last beer on my bed made out of sandbags and vowed to return to this little town someday. With poison. Lots of poison.
Are we in Bolivia yet? I'm only three countries behind. Did I mention that I didn't like the people on my tour?
