Canon del Colca

Thursday morning, the four of us were awakened at 6am by an air raid siren which sounded as though it were about a foot away from our door. The siren blast lasted for about ten minutes straight, but as no one seemed to be rushing about or panicking, we tried to calmly go about our business. When we went downstairs, I asked the desk clerk about the siren. She didn't speak any English and my limited Spanish caught only something about firemen in the main square and "No, of course they don't do this every day" which was a relief.

So with slightly frayed nerves, we joined a group of five other people on a tour headed for the Colca Canyon. I had no idea what to expect since our guide had arranged everything and given no details. I only knew that we were supposed to spend one night there and that any Ariquipena that you talked to would remind us that the Canon del Colca was more than twice as deep as the Grand Canyon. We were happy to be traveling with others as our own companionship was fine but could use some interesting people to spice things up. Our fellow travelers were a
Peruvnian couple from Lima, a Swiss-German couple, and an American man from Las Vegas. The Peruvian woman was on the tour so she could get photos of the dancing and dress typical of that area and then she was going to enter herself in a National Geographic contest. It was funny to me that the Peruvians, because they were from Lima, a world away from Colca Canyon, wanted to explore other Peruvians. That just shows my uneducated bias that all of Peru is inhabited by throwbacks to a different era when in fact, many Limenos are extremely sophisticated, wealthy, and cosmopolitan.

The Swiss-German couple were OK, but the woman was very abrupt and rude to several Peruvians during the course of our trip. And the guy from Las Vegas was a bit of a trip-he was "in" real estate and spends half his year wandering the world. He used the phrase "and I'm all like" way more than anyone who is not a 14-year-old valley girl should. I have found that generally (very generally) when I travel abroad, the people I like least are Americans. Which I find odd because in the United States, there are many, many Americans I like-those people need to start traveling abroad more.

Our trip to the canyon consisted of a four hour ride to the tiny town of Chivay. Once there, we were installed in our hostels and told we would be picked up in an hour to go to the local hot springs. However, by then it was around 5pm and extremely cold-on the way to Chivay at one point it had been snowing. As no one had briefed us on our trip and Arequipa was sunny and hot when we left, Christin and I were wearing flip-flops and tank tops. Needless to say, we put on every piece of clothing we could and once at the hot springs, decided it was way too cold to undress and get into the murky-looking spring water. Instead, we wandered around the mountainside and explored the river adjacent to the springs.

The next day saw us driving another two and a half hours to get to Canon del Condor where there is the most likelihood of seeing South American condors in their natural habitat. We did in fact see about a dozen of them, majestically riding the updrafts that come from the canyon. Colca Canyon itself was beautiful and definitely deep, but all four of us decided that it really can't touch the drama and grandeur of the Grand Canyon. Mostly, we enjoyed thawing out in the sunshine while condors soared next to us.

Next it was back to Chivay for a buffet lunch of traditional Peruvian food. The food was actually very good, but I had gotten a bit cavalier about watching what I ate since we had been in Peru for several weeks now. I had consumed salads and raw fruit on several occasions as well as our chicha experience, without ill effects for the most part. But Chivay is a very small-and I'll say it-dirty town without enough of a tourist flow to ensure a level of hygiene that visitors need to stay well. I ate my fill at the buffet which I would pay for later.

In the meantime, we spent an hour or so watching some traditional dancing in the tiny Plaza de Armas since Chivay happened to be holding a festival for some reason while we were there. The dress was beautiful with intricate embroidery from head to toe. It struck me that in these dreary and colorless surroundings of the high desert, the Peruvians had chosen to dress in a way which brought color to their lives. Sort of a survival adaptation if you will.

Back in Arequipa (four and a half very bumpy, dusty hours later) we packed our bags way beyond what they were meant to carry and headed out on the town for one last night in Peru. We ate again at the falafel house and spent several hours playing cards and laughing with each other. I reflected on how traveling together brings us so much closer and already I was starting to miss the enforced together time that we experience while in another country. Though meeting others and learning to adapt to a new culture is key to our travels, laying bare the cultural bonds that we as a family have is a wonderful side effect that I cherish. That last night, we sort of just took it all in, celebrating our triumph of three weeks in a foreign land. We talked about what our favorite moments and places were and what we were going to miss most. It was nice, very nice....

Jenny