On the edge in the Andes

Last night in Arequipa, I should report for the record, Riki and I ate alpaca. Not bad (although Malu was and our dinner ended on a sour note...I will withhold the details).

What we thought was going to be a taxi, hired to take us to the Colca Canyon, turned out to be a minibus with a driver and a guide, all to ourselves. We set off like kings into the Colca Canyon, stopping occasionally to touch ice, gawk at llamas (or alpacas, whatever the difference is), set up a prayer altar with rocks at 16,000 feet, whee in a hut, and even chat it up with a Houstonian (originally from Lima) who with his CEO, who was riding a motorbike, was headed to check on some new hydroelectric plant they´re building somewhere high in the Andes. Tells me he lives in Tanglewood, of all things. Never know who you´re going to meet, and that´s what´s fun.

Had a tourist, but fun, lunch in Chivay, the last town of any size in the Colca Canyon. It was a buffet and we hit it hard. For the record, Kristina ate 3 bowls of what we identified as a Peruvian curry. I even drank an Inca Kola, which is found everywhere in Peru and is the color of whee. Also got to drink some more chicha morada (the juice made from the purple corn). Even the unable to please Malu liked it.

On into the canyon, the road becomes quite jarring. We were rattled, but the baby took it in style. Bemused as always. It is impossible for me to describe these mountains, so I won´t belabor the point. But picture being surrounded by mountains, into each of which is carved green terraces...which go on for miles. These terraces, used for growing, were created before the Incas, so they´re old, clever and efficient, and beautiful. Our driver, Raoul, was very good, otherwise I might have minded the precipitous drop off on the side of the road down which we were hurling...the numerous cross-laden memorial reminds you that you wouldn´t be the first to plummet to your death in the beautiful Andes.

We arrived at our hotel mid-afternoon, in Cabanaconde, the last town in the valley. Our hotel is another charming, twisty, enchanted hostal. Malu is excited by the fact that the rooms have bathtubs. He´s tired of showers. But the highlight of the trip so far is our horseback ride. OK, to call it a horseback ride is something of an exaggeration. I, Malu, and Kristina (with Kanahe in her lap...you should nkow that Lady K even managed to breastfeed the baby while riding, much to the confusion of some local men) were on burros. Riki had a real horse (Riki is a real horseman). We headed through the tiny town of Cabanaconde into the countryside, the specatular countryside as the sun set. We even perched (me with very tight sphincter due to the height issues) on the very edge of a mountain with yet another precipitous drop WHILE on the burro. It was, to overuse an overused word, awesome (my burro tried to run me into bushes several times, displeased that he was having to work so late on Thursday night, but I managed to corral him back into the center of the rocky, dusty road.)

On the ride back, it was as if we had suddenly returned to the middle ages. It was dark and cold, the air full of smoke, and we passed shepherds and locals carrying giant bundles of sticks on their backs. People had fires going in their homes, and that was really the only light, but for a few street lights. Like a movie, only better. The only negative...I now stink like mule.

We fought our way once again through the throngs of old local women and children who went googoo over the baby. Some insisted on holding him, others just stood by and adored him. During the ride, a group of young girls even ran out of the shop to wave him on. He is something, and even the Peruvians know it.

To dinner in our hotel. Back to Arequipa tomorrow.