Breathless in Arequipa

The airplane we took from Lima to Arequipa let us out directly onto the tarmac. Straight in front of us was the Arequipa International Airport, a little building with a single luggage belt and a shabby collection of kiosks touting local hotels and tours of nearby Colca Canyon. It's provincial and, particularly given that Arequipa is Peru's second-largest city, singularly unimpressive.

That is, until you turn around and see the hulking snow-capped mountains - including El Misti, an active volcano - right behind the plane, imposing and majestic and completely out-of-sync with the airport's dreary functionality. Cognitive dissonance, as it turns out, is kind of Arequipa's signature. Bach's Toccata and Fugue weaves through the streets of the colonial old town - the same three bars, over and over. It wasn't until the third time or so that we heard it that we realized it was blasting from the garbage trucks.

Dad and I were met outside the airport by a driver sent by our hotel, who led us to a rickety Daewoo with a sticker across the front windshield that said THE UNDERTAKER. Fortunately, it didn't prove prophetic, as the most exciting thing that happened on our drive was passing several flocks of sheep, attended by people in traditional Andean garb, along the median of the highway that led into town.

When we got to our hotel - La Casa de Melgar, a converted bishop's residence with courtyard after courtyard, all built from the city's legendary white stone and filled with gorgeous flowers - Dad and I dropped our stuff. We then wandered around the white-stone city for an hour or two before I retreated back to our room to rest. The elevation has totally wiped me out, although at some 2,500 meters, this is the closest to sea level I'll be for the next month, so I'd best be getting used to it.

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