From one of the most beautiful Southeast Asian cities to one of the nicest South American cities, Arequipa. I am just starting to appreciate what a mistake I made not writing this blog as soon as I visited the destination I am writing about. Although my memory allows me to remember what happened throughout the trip, I am having trouble reliving the emotions I felt whenever I was somewhere. When I write in retrospection the result is probably drier than it would be otherwise. On the other hand, writing after some time allows me to think about certain episodes and places, and perhaps analyse them and present them in a less 'involved' way. I don't know what is the best option; I will present a little bit of both.
Arequipa, la ciudad blanca. For those of you not familiar with Spanish, the name translates as 'the white city', on account of sillar, the white volcanic stone in which most of the city is built. Arequipa was the first place in which the Andean soul of Peru became alive, after the beaches of the North and Lima. The ride to town allowed us a view of El Misti, the towering snowcapped volcano looming around the city like a saint protector and a potential foe at the same time. Arequipa is simply beautiful. Wide plazas are surrounded by sillar colonial buidings and churches, Andean women walk around town in traditional costumes. The Monasterio de Santa Catalina was, for me, one of the gems of Peru; a colorful yet sombre walled city within a city. Arequipa felt more authentic, less heavily touristed than Cuzco, retaining a soul that has not yet sold itself to mass tourism.
However, as most travellers will know, the real soul of a place is not to be found in the polished-up historical centre. Cities like Arequipa live and breathe in the slums, in the barrios, not in the boutique B&B in the historical centre. We took the Real Arequipa tour, a half-day excursions to discover the other face of this spectacular city. I have already commented on pros and cons of this type of tourism in my Rio blogpost (Steak and Chips). To make it brief, I support these initiatives as they attempt to provide help to the most neglected parts of cities. Real Arequipa supports a children daycare centre and a soup kitchen as well as providing quarry workers with food provisions.
The day started with a minibus ride; we saw the city change, from the dazzling beauty of the white centre glistening in the morning sun to residential neighbourhoods, that become poorer and poorer the furthest we got from the centre. The poorest resembled huge sprawling expanses of low buildings; built with the same shining white stone that makes the colonial centre so unique.
The first stop was a quarry. We saw a man carving stone bricks from the rockface, a task which takes him one hour for approximately 20p payment. The white volcanic stone is so abundant here that the price quarrymen are payed is rather low. They work for themselves, getting payed per number of bricks they can produce. The man we spoke to was over 60 years of age and worked 10 hours a day, six or seven days a week. These people are in such dire need for money that is not unusual seeing them at work on Christmas day. He looked me in the eyes as I handed him a tip, shaking his hands roughened by years of work. I felt hollow, ashamed of the inequalities between human beings.
El Misti is closer to this part of town. It seems right, as the people who inhabite the area retain some of the animistic beliefs which regard mountains as the seats of gods. The cemetery is closest to the mountain. It was one of the most colorful cemeteries I visited, the atmosphere lighthearted rather than sombre. Tombs are built resembling little houses, some with painted images. Empty plots of land house the tombs of suicides, who do not have any decoration. I was astounded by the number of suicides. Our guide explained that many people came from the mountains to the city in the Eighties, escaping the brutalities of the Shining Path. Many of these refugees form the population of urban slums, many decided to end their own lives as thay could not fend for themselves in the cities.
After the cemetery, we visited the daycare centre and soup kitchen. It was nice to see two examples of interventions in favour of disadvantaged people. The children daycare centre had the Quechua name Wawawasi, meaning children's home. It provides a place for mothers to leave thair children when they go into town to work, allowing at the same time the children to receive a basic education. Five children were there when we visited, aged between two and eight. They smiled, played and sang for us. The smallest one kept falling asleep, we were explained he has to walk a few kilometres every morning in order to get there. From the gift of instruction to the gift of food. The soup kitchen is a community-run establishment providing hundreds of children, elderly people and in general everybody in need with a free or extremely cheap hot meal. Groups of women took into turns to cook, when it's their turn, themselves and their families receive free food. At all other times, the charge is minimal, barely enough to cover the ingredients. The flavours wafting from the kitchen were heavenly, I looked into the pots but did not dare to ask for a taste.
Throughout the trip our guide presented us with a picture of contemporary Peru. In his mind, it is a land where people have time for little hope. The education system is geared towards the affluent classes, with the poorest barely able to learn basic literacy skills. Although education is free, the 'hidden charges' such as books and stationery prevent indigent classes to send their children to school. As a result, they take the streets. We saw swarms of children playing hide and seek behind the white houses. They seemed happy, but what will the future offer them? So I cherished this opportunity of knowing the Real Arequipa, knowing that my ticket charge will allow a few more children to attend the Wawawasi, or a few more hot dishes to be offered to those who are hungry.
And what about Santa Catalina, or Juanita, the mummy of an Inca girl hosted in Arequipa. I guess if you've been reading this blog long enough you'd know by now I do not usually bother with all that. Read the Lonely planet, or read one of the countless copycat travel blogs. Here you won't find info on sightseeing, restaurants or nightlife. You will find emotion, feelings and memories. Words that evoke atmospheres rather than telling facts. The Real Arequipa was my Arequipa. If you're ever around that area, I suggest you go and experience it too. It's a far more fulfilling experience than yet another plaza.
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