After a distinctly sulphurous encounter with the thermal pools of Chivay we made our way to Arequipa.
The drive was through some of the most barren but spectacular terrain that we have come across to date. The Mirador de las Volcanos probably says more than any florid description that I can muster but it would be rude not to try.
With a name that hardly evokes the destructive power of a tidal wave of super heated magma, El Misty looms over it all.
It dominates the plain and it dominates the sky line of Arequipa. It may or may not have obliterated Arequipa at some stage, depending on who you believe but certainly the Spanish did something to displease the Inca gods as there seems to have been a series of eruptions and earthquakes at various colonial cities in the 16th century that set back their progress while they rebuilt and repopulated the shattered communities.
The plain is strewn with carefully balanced piles of rocks.
Locals will tell you that they are historic monuments in memory of the ancestors. TJ will tell you that they appear whenever required, to drum up business for the roadside vendors.
We entered Arequipa past a blaze of colonial architecture that outclassed even Cusco. The streets are lined with stately buildings from the era and even the smaller casas are elegant and finely crafted. Pulling up outside Casa De Mi Abuela - or Grandmas House – we sprawled into luxury on a level entirely new to us.
Until now, we were elated with the occasional second helping at dinner. A shower that wasn’t straight from the glacier and didn’t electrocute you was more than we could dream of.
Here we had grass and a swimming pool. For a while we circled it suspiciously, waiting for the catch. Even after we got in, we weren't entirely convinced that it wouldn't suddenly fill with lama poo.
But it didn’t and gradually we relaxed into the oasis of calm that was Grandma’s House...
...Unaware of the horror that lay ahead.
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