March 23: Arequipa (Travel Day)

For whatever reason, buses don't depart from Copa until 1:30pm. The likely reason for this is because they need to come in from La Paz and Puno, but my gut tells me that city officials are just trying to suck out a few more Bolivianos from the tourists before they let you jet out of town. If the latter theory holds any truth - it worked. However, before spending the last of my currency on a cheap bag and giant lunch pizza at Pueblo Viejo, I stood around the waterfront for a short while, enjoying a festival that included marching bands and a parade. I have no idea what they were celebrating, but there seemed to be a lot of emphasis on the city and the lake.

Before lunch, I finally managed to check out Copa's church - an attraction that dates back to the 16th century, and boasts both Spanish and Islamic architecture. Apparently, the big thing to do is have your car blessed outside the church, but I didn't really notice any of this going on. The church is also known for its dark virgin which, for whatever reason, seems to attract pilgrims from both Bolivia and Peru. Anyway, it's worth checking out while you're in Copa... especially when you have to kill time before your 1:30pm bus. I had actually purchased my ticket to Arequipa from Turismo Yaneth late in the afternoon on my first day in Copa. Pretty much all the different tour companies sell this for about Bs 80, and they say it takes about 9 hours to make your way over to Peru's "White City." However, by the end of the night all I was seeing was red.

Every traveler has at least one really bad day every couple of weeks - one of those days where nothing runs on time and nothing goes well. This was that day. The only solace one can hope to take from such a miserable experience is that perhaps all the bad vibes have been packed neatly into one awful 24-hour period. Of course, everything seemed fine at first. I even managed a good laugh at this large, painted wall outside the public bathroom by the Bolivian immigration office. However, once I got to Puno it all went downhill. We arrived at 4pm, and, according to my purchased itinerary from Yaneth, my connection was set to leave half an hour later. Not so much. At first I was told that I would have to wait until 6 or 7pm, but I insisted that they get me on an earlier bus. Well aware that this was South America, and cognizant of the fact that these kind of delays are pretty commonplace, I was still willing to push the matter in hopes of persuading the ticket guy from my first bus into getting me out there a little closer to the time I was promised. The best I could do was a 5:30pm ride with Julsa lines. The trip, which is only supposed to take about five hours, ended up lasting an excruciating seven. At times we just sat there on the side of the highway for no apparent reason, cold and damp from leaking rain water, while frustrated passengers banged on the floorboards of the upper level. When we finally arrived in Arequipa (well past midnight) I ended up splitting a cab with a young British couple into the main part of the city. After dropping them off at a randomly chosen guesthouse by the Plaza de Armas, the driver took me over to The Point Hostel. Only to make things worse, the dark roads seemed to pull me far out of the way into the suburbs. When I got to the hostel and peaked inside, I found the place empty and quiet... a total ghost town. I actually had the driver turn around and go back to the plaza because there was no way I was going to be that alone and that far away from all the action during my final days in Peru. However, motivated by my obligation to honor a reservation I had made over a month ago (and persuaded by the fact that all the rat-trap rooms I checked out along the plaza seemed less than cheerful), I sucked it up and returned to The Point, finally settling into a bed for the night and hoping to wake up to a better day.

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