Lima

An early start. The taxi turned out to be a Daewoo cab and the immediate problem was how to fit in our big cases. This overcome eventually, we headed out to Arequipa airport and had a substantial conversation (in dodgy spanish) about the cost of hotels and flights, the traffic and cost of cars in Arequipa, and the different types of volcanoes in Peru. Oh, yes, and the impact of earthquakes.

Last view of El Misti

Arequipa aeropuerto only has four departure gates, and unlike British Airports, you only need to check in about half an hour before.

We were met at Lima by a Hyundia taxi that still did not have enough room for our luggage in the boot. After a few minutes we realized taking a taxi was an extreme sport in Lima. We headed down to the Pacific, and in true Lima style it was foggy.

Sign in our hotel room. We'll be safe if there's an earthquake!

Our hotel is in Miraflores, south of the main centre, and from our room we could see the sea.

Surfers

The hotel is very pleasant and a few minutes stroll from the cenre of Miraflores and may be one minute to the beach.


We headed to Miraflores Centro and ate lunch at the famous Cafe Haiti, a bit like a Rive Gauche cafe in Paris beamed up to Lima. The waiter was charming chastising us for not visiting Macchu Picchu. (What Joan did not know is that this cafe is famous for its Pisco Sours.) Miraflores feels quite affluent, with high rise blocks of flats, posh cars and Waitrose like supermarkets.

Lunch (tomato and palta sandwich and chips)

After a light lunch we strolled down to the prom, where we could see surfers catching waves in the old suburb of Barranco. There was a garish statue of two lovers on top of the cliffs and an interesting lighthouse.

Back at the hotel, Kevin especially caught up with some much needed sleep.

Towards evening we headed downstairs as the wifi in the room was not working. When we returned upstairs our bed had been turned down, chocolates were left, plus a forecast for tomorrow's weather. It felt odd.

After a stroll to the supermarket, we headed out for dinner. Though Miraflores is famous for having lots of different world cuisines, Italian seemed (as usual) to be the safest bet. We ate at Donatellas on the main drag. Delicious but we have both overloaded in pasta for the immediate future.

Puno and Chivay towns were really a bit shabby to stand for more than one night. It seems that is as much most tourists stay. Arequipa had a certain ex-colonial grandeur with its old mansions made out of sillar and narrow streets. Admittedly we have come to Mirafloreswhich is the most affluent part of the city, with broad pavements, avenues, department stores, etc. After dark it is softly warm, with lots of people buzzing about and with bigger buses with conductors who will kidnap you to be a passenger if you stand on a corner too long. We know that most of the city isn't like this and many people live in half constructed shanty-like towns. But for tonight and for city-haters like us, Lima seems pretty nice.

Yanque to Andagua - the road less travelled

https://plus.google.com/photos/109389111725644382077/albums/5730490231949856145?authkey=CMa5rqbm5vWpQw One of the things we had identified as a "must see" was the Valle de los Volcanes. Usually to get there it would involve a four hour trip back to Arequipa and at least an eight hour journey from there. However on the maps there shows a route which takes lesser roads and should take about nine hours in total.

Guillermo, the hotel owner, had asked a friend what the roads were like, and he had said that they were not too bad. So, with some trepidation and a knowledge that there are not many roadsigns in Peru, we set off at 8 am.

Initially the road to Sabayo was metalled and we took some photos of the gorge from a mirador. However towards Sabayo the road turned to a rough but wide track. Then it started to rise and rise, slowly winding its way up a steep hill. As always, we were shocked to come across a big lorry on the road as the way did not seem suitable. We continued to rise, until you felt like you would fall off the earth. The scenery was much like the Peak District - but big.

Eventually the way started to descend, and in the distance we could see a big lorry heading in our direction. Ahead of the lorry was a pick-up truck with flags. He flashed us and advised us five lorries were travelling in convoy, so we waited for them to pass.

The road flattened out and we crossed alti-plano, with the usual camelids and the odd viscacha. Next we saw no less than six big tourist buses bouncing precariously along the dirt track, leaving huge dust clouds behind them. Neither of us fancied being a traveller on those.

However, no matter how far we seemed to be away from villages, there always seemed to be someone sat with a few grazing animals. There were few houses in sight.

Eventually we came to the town of Caylloma where the good road was meant to end. However there are many mines in the area, so we guessed the roads couldn´t be that bad. We saw that Mina Ancaya was 85 kms away and this was in our direction. After some guess work on the Plaza de Armas, we found the road out of town and again it headed further and further up. We knew the turn off to Orcapampa, and ultimately Andagua was just short of the mine. The road was bumpy and wide, but not so winding. Amazingly again, we met tourist buses coming the opposite direction as well as lorries.

The road was long and seem to go on eternally, but finally the junction arrived, and what´s more, it was signed.

We stopped for lunch and then proceeded down a steep hillside, strategically pulling in to let a tanker pass. On the Michelin map this road is described as passable by 4X4 only, but the lorry made it as well as yet another tourist bus. After a steep descent, the road flattened out and we came across a thermal bath. The sign said we were still at 3,800 meters.

The road improved to Orcapampa, but after guessing the way again out of the Plaza de Armas, the track deteriorated, so much so that we asked a local if we were going the right way. It seemed we were.

The bad stretch, with rocky highway, lasted a few miles and then settled down again along a beautiful blue river. In the distance we could see a small volcanic cone. At a junction we again asked a mother and child if we were in the right place. She said yes and asked for a lift to Anadagua. The road was bumpy and narrow, and we met a Brinksmat security van along the way, which looked more like an armoured vehicle. The sky was low and there were not good views, but the landscape was definitely volcanic. After an age we finally reached town. It was smaller than we imagined with a few hostels on the road. On the Plaza de Armas, the daily bus out was loading and we had to wait whilst people bought cheese and other food for the journey. It was eight and a half hours since we left.

The Rough Guide recommended the Hostel Casa Blanca. We drove past the other hostels and non were named this. After asking yet another local, it turned out it was on the main square with a slightly different name. As we pulled up, a small girl open a small wooden door in a bigger wooden gate. She asked if we wanted lodging and led us into a very rustic courtyard, with a few hens and ducks milling about. Her father, who was on crutches called to us from a balcony one side of the yard and we asked for a room with "cama matrimoniale." He explained he needed to change the bed and clean the room.

The room was basic to say the least, with en-suite loo and not much else. We decided to give it one night. Some other foreigners were also staying there. There was no chat of breakfast or dinner.

We decided to walk around the town, but most of the streets off were cul-de-sacs. There was no maps of the valley of volcanoes available.

After the quickest stroll around the square we saw a sign for internet. A man showed us an upstairs room with several computers crammed in. So that´s where we are now - blogging. Photos will have to wait yet longer.

After updating the blog we asked the gentleman who ran the Locutorio for the best place to eat in town. He suggested that there was only one place in town at the opposite side of the Plaza. There was no sign outside the shop, but a few tables with plastic tablecloths and a rotiserie that seemed to be made up of bicycle parts. The landlady understood that we were vegetarian, and offered us a meal of scrambled eggs with rice and salad whihc we gratefully accepted. Others came and went in the cafe but mainly they did not speak. A lady fed some of her meal to her child, and then slung the child across her back in a brightly covered shawl.

Reluctantly we headed back to the Casagrande and to bed.