#pauseforamoment

14.04.2025. Going home day is like every last day of a holiday i.e. a bit of last minute shopping and a lot of hanging around at airports. In this case Cape Town - Nairobi – Heathrow. With the time spent at gates and check-ins it works out at 30 hours from door to door.

The journey is not without some interest, however. Africa is vast. Looking down from the plane at the jungles and savannahs as we cruise at 30,000+ ft. I muse that it can’t that big and not be populated with something or somebody. There must be some undisturbed wildlife roaming freely down there. Also, the Sahara is huge. Occasional oases are visible and the highways that stretch to and from the horizon, or are they railway lines or oil pipelines, appear to link nowhere to nowhere?

Why we didn’t go to Machu Picchu.

Sue and I set ourselves a standard that good views have to be earned. For example when we were in South Africa and visited the Cape Of Good Hope we were dismissive of the coach-loads of tourists who were bussed in, took their selfies next to a sign, visited the gift shop and left. That’s not us.

To get to Machu Picchu most visitors fly into Lima, take a further flight to Cusco and then take a train from Cusco or Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes (Machu Picchu Town), followed by a 30-minute bus ride to the citadel. For the truly lazy it is possible to take a horse ride or quad bike to the gates.

Tickets for Machu Picchu are presently limited to 5,200 per day with prices between $200 and $500. On the outskirts of Chinchero, a small town with not much going for it.

Sue passing through the Gateway to Machu Picchu at Chinchero.

Looking back over Chinchero towards the site of new airport already in construction. .

An International Airport is being developed to bring tourists to Machu Picchu. When the airport is open for business ticket numbers will rise to 16,000 per day. Clearly, the infrastructure to support this – roads, onward transport, hotels, drivers etc, etc, - will provide employment opportunities but at the expensive of massive disruption to the current way of life. A few will get very, very rich.

The way to earn your view of Machu Picchu is to follow the Inca Trail[1]. The 43 km four-day trek arrives at the Sun Gate for sunrise on the fourth day, giving you a glimpse of the still crowd-free ruins. If we ever return to Peru this is how we will get to Machu Picchu.

Wednesday 25th February 2026. Leaving Peru.

A walk to the seafront proves to be a step too far for me today. By noon the temperature has reached 28degrees and I am drained.

A thick mist rolls in from the Pacific. Peru’s version of Alcatraz, just a few hundred yards offshore, is shrouded in mist and not visible. Confident surfers are out there somewhere. Instagrammers take pics of the whiteout.

I stumble back to the hotel and settle in until it is time to go to the airport.

Wednesday/Thursday: Lima – Paris – Heathrow. Air France cabin crew must go on special training to make them more miserable than they naturally are.

Thursday 24th February 2026. Peru. Lima.

Before setting off on this adventure what passed for research was watching a Netflix show about South American street food. Highly recommended were AL TOKE PEZ[1] and Picarones. AL TOKE PEZ, Tomas “Toshi” Matsufuji’s place turns out to be only a few blocks from our hotel so after a hearty buffet breakfast off we trot for a shared brunch platter of Combinado: cerviche, grilled calamari and seafood rice. Washed down with Inka Cola. Not surprisingly we feel very fat.

In Kennedy Park and Parque El Ovalo the city’s population of stray cats are fed, watered, petted and photographed. Local taxes pay for their upkeep, locals tolerate them and tourists add another Insta-post. Look at me!

At 1430 we join a bike tour heading first to the coast and then to the bohemian Barranco district. It is an easy ride with another chatty and informative guide. Along the way he points out new $1million-plus apartments, Lima’s most popular spot for suicides, a bizarre kissing competition and a glass bridge.

Hallucinogenic  plants, lucumo ice-cream, old colonial houses, a former railway station now a library and political graffiti (we get to see Jade Rivera and Super Chato Eric in action) and much more. From miniature pieces to large murals, the works of Peruvian street artists are striking through the way the artists depict the realities surrounding them, the problems people face in Peru and the deep connection that they have with their own culture.

The tour ends back where we started just in time for hot, fresh cooked sweet potato dough rings at Picarones Mary’s stall in Parque El Ovalo.

The kissing competition  - the couple who can hold a kiss for the longest win a fridge. This year’s winners lasted over 4.5 hours. I hope the fridge was worth it.

This is our last evening of the holiday so we celebrate this fantastic adventure with our by now customary Pisco Sours at Republic del Pisco[2] in the company of Kate and Ollie, confident twenty-somethings on a four month tour of South America who know our hometown having studied at Nottingham University. They were in the same year group as the Barnaby Webber, Grace O’Malley-Kumar who, together with Ian Coates, were killed by mentally deranged individual in June 2023. We dine on good Indian food at Mantra and finally, at last, for our final meal we see the sense in only ordering a shared starter and shared main before heading back to Republic del Pisco where a great band, Blackjack 21[3], is whipping up a storm with some hardcore Peruvian funk.

[1] Calle Manuel Bonilla 113, Mirafiores. E: [email protected] [2] Calle Bolívar 215, Miraflores 15074, Lima. T: +51 922 617 163 E: [email protected]

Monday 23rd February 2026. Peru. Lima.

Eventually we escape Arequipa, although we are sorry to leave the 5-Star Costa del Sol Wyndham, and arrive in Lima. As we are checking out of the hotel again the lovely receptionist tells Sue, “It has been a pleasure checking you in and out three times”.

Lima is a much more cosmopolitan city but still with no sign of UK tourists. The luxurious taxi from the airport delivers us to the Radisson Red Miraflores[1] taking the coastal road where a thick mist obliterates the view and claws at the throat, then clears in an instant to reveal a long line of surfers waiting for their next perfect wave.

An immediate noticeable difference here is one of height. In the mountains the indigenous communities are hunkered down against the elements whereas close to the coast people grow tall to meet the sun.

In the evening we eat at Punto Azul[2] where Sue appears to have ordered a family sized plate of seafood spaghetti all for herself. My creamy mushroom risotto was a more manageable sized portion.

A slow walk to Obra Teatral where we queue for tickets for some Argentinean theatre – el Tunel, toda Ernesto Sabado – only to discover when the doors open that it has completely sold out. It must be very good but not so much of a disaster for us. It would have been an occasion where you feel the story rather than understand the language. The evening's entertainment is not lost as in the foyer the Umbral art installation plays with a spectrum of colours on clean, grey rocks and canvases.

[1] Calle Bolívar 601, Miraflores 15074, Lima. T: +51 1 7029393

Sunday 22nd February 2026. Peru. Arequipa.

After a late breakfast we take a walk around the small park adjacent to the hotel. At 11.00ish the park is quiet yet busy with tai chi, tai Kwando, yoga and soft combat classes taking place. Soft Combat: whacking seven bells out of each other with foam swords and cudgels. Great fun for adults and children alike. Even adults vs. children.

We head back to Mundo Alpaca[1] because Sue has her eye on some stuff – NOT the £5000.00 vicuna poncho, phew! – then head downhill and over the river to the Yanahuara district. Jose, yesterday’s guide, recommended it as a good place to visit, popular with locals, few tourists and with an excellent mirador (viewpoint) back over the heart of the city. It was the railway boom of the 19th century that brought rural migrants to Yanahuara, then a distinct village.

El Mirador abuts a quaint square with cafes, bakery, bars and restaurants. A catholic procession complete with statue and brass band makes its slow progress around the square before disappearing up a side street and into Iglesia de Yanahuara.

Back at the park at 15.00 and it has come alive. The quiet tai chi class has been replaced with noisy street performers, ice cream and doughnut seller (queso helados and picarones), picnics and families. At the first rumble of thunder we dash for the hotel. The Volcan Misti, which dominates the city is shrouded in cloud and remains out of sight yet, somehow, still casts a powerful spell with its presence.

Friday 20th February 2026. Peru. Arequipa.

Groundhog Day #1. Awake, breakfast, refreshing McColin’s Anis tea[1] by the pool, Uber to the bus station, bus cancelled, taxi back to the hotel while we figure out our options for the next few days.

Ubers are generally clean, well looked after and with a pre-agreed price and cheaper than taxis. On this occasion the taxi we grab back to the hotel belches black exhaust fumes, rattles and clunks its way through the back streets, stopping only for some benzene to complete the journey. The driver, however, doesn’t need any Sat Nav assistance to get him there. He knows all the shortcuts and back alleys to do the journey in record time. “Worst weather for twenty-five years”, he says.

The landslide blockage is somewhere between Challa and Ika. Information about the chances of making it to Ika warns against it. In fact, as per yesterday, no buses are heading to the coast. Our plan is just to take the hit on our 90 soles bus tickets and find a flight to Lima on Monday 23rd.

Saturday 21st February 2026. Peru. Arequipa.

Groundhog Day #2.  Awake, breakfast, refreshing McColin’s Anis tea[2] by the pool. All the same so far but, hooray, no trip to the bus station. Instead we suffer the curse of endless selfies.

There is a middle-aged couple here taking selfies after selfies after selfies. He: short, pigeon- chested, paunch, bald spot.  She: tall, leggy, nothing else remarkable of note. We’ve watched them for a couple of days posing in every possible corner of the hotel pool area and gardens. Mostly she takes pics of him as he struts like a peacock from pose to pose stopping only to suck his gut in for the next photo opportunity, same as the previous photo opportunity. We reckon she must be in his employ on enthral to demean herself so utterly. The servitude continues with her pandering to him over breakfast. It is sad. Sad to the point on wondering about his, and her, state of mind to require such validation or vanity.

In the afternoon we have a Walking and Tasting Tour of the Old Town with Evaristravel Agencia de Tourismo[3]. This proves to be absolutely excellent and we wish we had done it on our first day here, rather than on our second to last. This was a side of the city less seen by tourist. The market: cafes not or seldom frequented by tourists, stalls for typical Arequipan snacks, cheese ice-cream, strange fruits to try and even stranger fruits to avoid.

A former Jesuit seminary, a former girls’ school then a women’s prison and all rounded off with a detailed explanation of the three different types of pisco: Pisco Puro, single grape variety; Mosto Verde, from partially fermented sugary grapes; Acholado, a blend of the two.

In the evening we dine at L’brujo. Just one block off the main drag – Jerusalen – and not a tourist in sight. Apart from us the clientèle are bright young things, courting couples and groups of friends meeting for a Saturday night out over shared mains or sweets. The cocktails are artistic and pack a punch. Every cocktail comes with a Tarot card.

Back at the hotel a party is in full swing. A karaoke singer is belting out well known Peruvian hits accompanied by fourteen women singing at the top of their voices, dancing and laughing. The barman has his work cut out tonight. We watch for a while, enjoying the show but beat a retreat soon after being asked to dance.

[1] T: 01 611 2888 E: [email protected]

[2] T: 01 611 2888 E: [email protected]

Thursday 19th February 2026. Peru. Arequipa.

Up early for breakfast, Uber to the bus station at 09.45 for our bus to Challa at 11.00. Seems simple enough, what could possibly go wrong? The Uber driver makes good time to the bus station, passing through some wealthier suburbs, however, on arrival we are informed that yesterday’s rains have caused a landslide between Challa and Ika and no buses will be heading to Challa today. The lone harassed woman on the Cruz del Sol desk is doing her best to stay calm and polite in the face of numerous disappointed passengers who simply must leave Arequipa today. Sue soon rearranges our tickets for tomorrow, rebooks our hotels and sorts out another Uber to take us back to the Costa del Sol Wyndham.

An hour and a half after checking out of the Wyndham we are sitting by the pool soaking up the sun and that is pretty much it for the rest of the day.

In the evening we dine at Kao[1]: Asian Peruvian fusion food. Pad Thai for Sue and a green Thai curry for me. The food is excellent. Cooked in an open-plan, stainless steel catering kitchen we can watch the chefs rustle up our meals with obvious care and precision.

Arequipa Old Town has a lot of Spanish/Moorish influences. Modern shops and restaurants are very stylishly carved out of the ancient, thick, sillar walls. High doors that once accommodated horses and wagons now lead to shady courtyards. Back to Crepisimo for a shared nutella, banana and ice-cream pancake. Bed.