Eight (mostly blonde) European girls and I took a trip into the world’s deepest canyon about two weeks ago. On the first day we piled into a little transport and drove for a long way before stopping at a mirador to watch some condors fly just meters away from our heads. And then we drove for a while to a tiny little town (whose name escapes me) where we stopped and walked a kilometro or so to the trailhead. Down, down down about 600 meters into the depths of the canyon, then back up a couple hundred to a pueblito where we were treated to a delicious dinner made by Carlitos and a lot of discussion in Dutch. And a super-comfy bed in a mud shack.

And a stuffed fox hung up in front of a Arequipena ad featuring a bikini-clad woman:

The following day we walked back down to the canyon bottom and swam around in a little pool (and ate another delicious meal) for four hours before heading back up the canyon wall. The other side of the canyon (as opposed to the first side, which we climbed down) is about 1200 vertical meters from the bottom to the cliff edge. I’d been hearing about the Colca Canyon hike from my hostel-mates in Arequipa for a couple days, and most of them had told me their times (from top to bottom), so I was excited to see how quickly I could do it. You’ll be happy to hear that I made it, barely alive, in 1 hour, 21 minutes, about an hour before the next member of my little group.

We were treated to a two-star hotel in the little town at the edge of the canyon, which at that point felt like about a seven-star place (the showers. were. incredible) and as the Festival de la Virgen de la Candeleria was in full swing, we were treated to some pretty rhythmic, pretty drunken dancing by the indigenously dressed locals, which some of us joined in, to a certain extent.

Then, long, boring, uncomfortable bus ride back to Arequipa, broken only by a visit to the thermal baths, which was fun enough and involved a lot of bikinis.

I arrived back in Arequipa and toured a cool, old, huge, quiet monastery (twice!), where I took a great deal of super respectful photos:

Where the nunnies washed their undies:

Various dudes in states of piety:

I waited around in Arequipa for a few days, mostly goofing around with Elsa and Camille (who are there volunteering at an English school) and enjoying a super fun, very meaty dinner with Caroline (from Valparaiso, remember?). Because, of course, Astrid was coming to Peru, and Arequipa was our meeting point.

Entonces, we went to a fancy beach resort in Chala (on the recommendation of two little blonde kids from Mount Shasta), where we goofed around and played in the ocean and ate some delicious ceviche that may have made Astrid sick. Oh, yeah, and we looked at some ruins, sponsored by Pepsi.

Astrid in a hangmat:

On our collectivo ride to Nazca, we stopped at a pretty brutal car wreck on the highway and three small children and three really terrified women got into our little van. They’d been in the car accident and needed a ride to the hospital in Nazca, so I scrunched up into a little ball at Astrid’s feet and we all managed to fit in.

In Nazca we took a little Cessna ride to view the Nazca lines from above, which was fine (mostly because, unlike the complain-y Canadian behind me, I didn’t barf). It was mostly just cool to fly in a tiny airplane. I even got to wear a funny headset.

Tonight, Ica for sandboarding. It’s going to be tubular.

Yours.