Miraflores to Arequipa

What a quick few days we've had. We've heard negative feedback regarding Lima and I can see that if you aren't staying in Miraflores. Miraflores is an entirely different story.

We flew Jet Blue from Ft. Lauderdale to Lima, which was an easy flight. We were asked before we left about our continuuing travel because we were taking a one-way flight. After providing a receipt of our flight from Buenos Aires to Madrid on April 16th, we were approved to board.

Our flight attendant was a pill though and refused to speak Spanish even though 90% of the flight was Peruvian. I even had my hand at translating for the sweet grandma next to us that they don't serve sandwiches on international flights.

When we landed, immigration was super easy. We had filled out our papers on the flight, so we were ready to keep left at immigration to hand over our info. The woman asked how long we'd be staying and we got our first stamp! That was quite the feeling. We are on the road officially.

We had a bit of a catch when we landed. Our hostel was sending a taxi driver for us and we were told he would be there with a sign. No go. Between not having checked baggage and under 5 minutes in customs, we had landed, deplaned and were at the baggage claim in under 30 minutes. We tried to call the hostel, but no one picked up. As one of the pushy local taxi companies tried to help, even offering to call our hostel, the guy arrived from the mass of people, holding a sign with our names. Bienvenidos!

Our hostel, Family Backpackers House, was a bit dingy, but in a prime location in Miraflores, one block away from the cliffs and around 30 minutes from the airport without traffic.

We crashed very hard and woke up around 8:30 for a mediocre breakfast of bread and butter and Tang. I was nervous to drink it because I was unsure about the water, but to date the water and fruit have all been 100% okay.

We spent the day wandering Miraflores, including getting a sunburn from walking along the Costa Verde. What an incredible space! Park after park along the cliffs invites you to relax and stay awhile.

We stopped at WONG for snacks for the bus trip-basically a smaller version of Walmart, with everything from groceries to linens. We grabbed lunch of Chicharrones and fresh juices from La Lucha, near Parque del Kennedy, and then returned to Lover's Park to relax under the shade of the trees before our overnight bus to Arequipa.

We had our first moment of realization that we had zero responsibilities. No emails to check. No calls to return. Nothing to do except be for a bit. To be honest, I'm sure we are quite yet comfortable with the idea yet. Ha!

The hostel had booked us a taxi to the terrapuerto, like aeropuerto but terra meaning land. We checked our main bags and boarded the bus in VIP. Definitely do this if you ever travel by bus. We had large leather seats on Cruz del Sur. Our learning lesson was to not take the row in the very back. Our seats didn't recline as much as the seats in front of ours.

The bus ride was about 15 hours, starting along the old Pan-American Highway. It was slow moving at first. Once we were out of the city, our driver began flying. It was tough to sleep with all the movement, but we each got a fair bit of twilight sleep to keep us moving upon arrival in Arequipa at 11 am.

The process of retrieving your checked bag was hilarious. They staple a tag to your bag when you check it and that's how you have to retrieve it. Every passenger stands around the counter with their baggage claim ticket watching anxiously for their bag. Once you ID it, you just call out until you get the attention of the porter and yell which bags are yours. They take your ticket, match it to the bag and then toss it over the counter to you. It made us laugh so hard.

After a perilous taxi ride along the very narrow streets, we arrived at Los Andes Bed & Breakfast. We met our Spanish teacher for the following day and then slept a good bit. The view from our room is amazing, with a prime view of the volcano rising over the town.

We wandered the streets for a bit, including the main square before settling on a quiet alley behind the Cathedral called Paseo Catedral. We were called by every host/hostess to come in for happy hour-Booze-the universal language. We grabbed an umbrella covered table just in time for the daily afternoon rain to start. We ordered pisco sours and the Menu del Dia for S/.15. 15 soles for a 2 course meal, including soup, onion and pumpkin (not together) and a main course. It was pretty good.

I have a confession to make... I'm not as a good a driver as I present myself to be. This hill in Valparaiso, Chile proved that.

The truth is, I stalled our rental car in one of the most embarrassing, hilarious situations I've ever experienced.

We left Santiago after two days there and drove westward to Valparaiso with a pit stop in the wine country of Casablanca Valley. Upon entering the city, I navigated some busy streets and followed the GPS instructions toward our hotel, the RC Art Deco. The hotel is located mid-way up the Cerro Bellavista hill. Valparaiso is a city of hundreds of steep hills, each constituting a unique neighborhood.

Once you get past the flat boulevards of the commercial district, all the hill roads become one lane, rumbling paths of intimidation. The locals have adapted to this by driving incomprehensibly fast. However, I happened to be behind the most cautious Chilean that day. As I turned up the hill, they gingerly edged up the incline. About 30 meters later, I felt a suspect strain from the engine. Imagine a toddler trying to compete in the "world's strongest man" contest where they pull a truck with their teeth. That was the equivalent of our pathetic rental Citroen trying to lug four adults and all their luggage up this hill. Suddenly, my fears culminated with a sad sputter and a stalled engine. I started her back up a few times and tried to get first gear to catch, but each time it ended with a failure that challenged my manhood. On top of this, I had a cabby stuck behind me angrily cursing my incompetence in Spanish and a well-intentioned woman on the sidewalk encouraging me to punch the gas harder. I asked everyone to get out of the car to reduce weight. My dad took this as a sign of surrender and commanded me out of the driver's seat. On the first try, he cranked it and zoomed the Citroen up the hill, leaving us behind with the kind bystander and cranky cabby. He didn't stop at the next cross street but took the car all the way up to the top of the neighborhood where the hotel was located. Lindsay, my mom, and I had to walk 10 minutes up there, myself with the humiliation of a man conquered by gravitational forces. The kicker was that my dad had the GPS and the three of us had no idea where the hotel was. We had to muddle our way through asking directions from an old woman sweeping the sidewalk.

A few minutes thereafter, we found the hotel just in time to help unload our luggage and out of the sight of the people who witnessed my vehicular shortcoming. Now I understand why the Chileans drive so stupidly fast up the hills. It's all about inertia.