**Our Trip & Itinerary**

After leaving Cusco and the Sacred Valley, the second half of our trip to Peru was more focused on unique settings like the floating islands on Lake Titicaca and the mysterious Nazca Lines. We departed Cusco to Puno on the PeruRail Titicaca luxury train service, winding our way up to this trip's high elevation point at over 4,350 meters (14,200 feet)! We spent two days on and around Lake Titicaca before departing for Arequipa, where we spent four days taking in the historic city with views of its overbearing volcanoes. Our trip ended with a slow journey up the coast towards Lima, stopping in Nazca for a flight over the famous Nazca lines and a two night stop in the desert oasis of Huacachina.

Puno and Lake Titicaca

The second half of our trip to Peru began with an interesting choice: an eight hour bus or a ten hour train? Normally, we would go for the quicker option, but in this case, the ten hour train was the luxurious Titicaca operated by PeruRail. Because it’s luxurious, it also meant its tickets fall well outside of our daily budget on this trip, but thanks to a positive bit of financial information for our return to the US and Jackson’s obsession with trains, he splurged and took us both on this special trip through the Andes. Our morning began with an escort by a traditional band and dancers to the single passenger carriage for the day’s journey. Unlike the high season, when this train can be up to eight cars long, our train today was only two carriages, one with tables and big plush chairs to pass the time in, and the other with a bar and outdoor observation area to fully take in the grandeur of the landscape. We stood on the balcony during our journey out of Cusco, taking the chance to wave to any kids and dogs we could spot along the way. As the city faded into the horizon behind us, we returned to our table for a strong cup of coffee and welcome snack. From their first interaction with us, the crew of this train was terrific, always on hand to grab whatever we needed or explain what activities were coming next. As we learned, when you buy these tickets you don’t just pay for the journey, you also pay for live entertainment, a baby alpaca fashion show (as awkward and misleading as it sounds), a pisco sour class, and much more. PeruRail somehow found a way to keep us on our toes for all 10 hours, though the views were enough to captivate us. Just before our three-course lunch, the train made a brief stop in La Raya village, the highest point of our journey at just over 4,300 meters. Here we briefly explored the little market and surprisingly ornate small church before snapping some picturesque photos of the train. As the conductor blew his whistle, we climbed back aboard and tucked into our delicious high-altitude lunch. This dense, three course meal, mixed with the thin air and a hefty glass of red wine, immediately turned the next hour or so into naptime for almost everyone traveling with us, including Jackson. As the train trundled on through the afternoon, we began to descend towards our destination of Puno, past Alpacas grazing in the fields and caballeros rounding up their herds of sheep on horseback. The day’s final highlight came in Juliaca where suddenly, the train swapped its rural route for a path through the city’s bustling market. We slowly picked our way past the crowds, as sellers hastily replaced their stands on the tracks after our train passed. Somehow, their set-up resembled a murphy bed or an accordian, cleverly disappearing and reappearing within seconds time. The locals seemed enthralled by our train, stopping to take photos or waving at us as we went. Once we had made our way through the market, our final hour on this exceptional train flew by, and suddenly it was time to leave our luxurious capsule behind.

We didn’t find Puno to be a very interesting city, but that was okay, as it wasn’t our main reason for coming to this corner of Peru. That was to be found out on the water. Our great adventure on Lake Titicaca began with a windy taxi drive that took us through the bowels of Puno, along the outskirts of town, and finally, to an unsuspecting ‘dock’. Simply stationed behind a restaurant, we spotted a collection of worse-for-wear boats that lined the canal into the lake. We were accompanied by our taxi driver and handed over to our Airbnb host, Jovana. Jovana was a plump woman, dressed in technicolor dresses and hats, hair fastened into two long braids on either side of her moon-like face, and a sun hat to top things off. She greeted us with a shy, yet friendly smile, her gentle face speckled with freckles. Whilst a soft-looking woman, Jovana was strong and confidently held the boat to the dry shore as we climbed aboard her vessel. We exchanged some brief greetings, waffling our way through where we were from and that we were excited to be her guests. She released us from the shore with a large stick, then swapped for a more modern technique: the motor at the back. SHe steered us through a thin canal lined with totora reeds that slowly began to widen. As we purred through the reed gates that read ‘LAKE’ on the left and ‘TITKAKA’ on the right, we saw our first islands. The people that live on the outlines of Lake Titicaca are the Uros people, an indigenous tribe that once lived in the hills of the Andes, but decided to flee to the safety of the water when the Spanish arrived in the mid 1500’s. Given the new threats on the mainland, the tribe built a life on man-made islands constructed of a base layer of totoro roots in soil and endless layers of the female prong of the reeds on top. We later learned that the male roots are less durable and tend to dry much faster, making them less usable as an island layer. As we meandered along the coast of the highest navigable lake in the world (3,800 meters or 12,500 ft), we examined the islands in awe – they seemed so sturdy for a simple pile of reeds, with school, church, and home structures standing tall as if on land. We could see a number of islands that now house Airbnbs or homestays, while others were clearly home to locals with smoke rising from some huts and children playing among the reeds on others.

We arrived at our little island, and heaved our day packs onto the reed base for the first time. It was surprisingly squishy, causing our feet to stand unevenly at the foot of the stairs to our home for the night. The construction of community buildings, let alone family homes, atop the unsteady ground suddenly seemed possible, or rather a feat of incredible craftsmanship. We headed up the stairs and explored our space – the ceiling was high and sunlight streamed through the front windows. Two beds were set up in the corners diagonally from each other, bright embroidered pillows adorning the five, maybe six, layers of blankets. In the front corner, we dropped our bags in the lounge and dining area. In the back left corner was the bathroom, featuring a spacious (although cold) shower, a sink, and a compost toilet. Lake luxury for just $32 a night! Jovana explained the nuances of the room, planned our dinner, then left us to settle in. Despite a slight breeze and darkening clouds outside, we went outside onto our patio and spread out on the lounge bed, decked out with curtains and a Peruvian blanket. We lay there for a while, swaddled in our puffer jackets, watching the little boats and ducks go by. It was so tranquil to simply stare at the reeds swaying in the wind after so many hours of travel and without the noise of the city beyond the water. We spent the next hours chatting, listening to music, and enjoying our floating home. At 7:02, Jovana appreaded out of the darkness, carrying a tray loaded with potato soup – one for Jackson, another for me without meat broth. The warm soup was a welcome appetizer, as it had cooled off since the sun went down and the lake breeze was finding its way through the cracks. Right on time, Jovana brought our main course: veggies and rice plus chicken for Jackson, fried banana for me. We sipped on naranja and muña tea, in awe of Jovana’s kindness and our tasty home cooked meal. That night, we dug our way under the countless blankets and fell asleep to the sound of waves on the lake and the gentle rock of our house on reeds.

In the morning, we peeked out at the world and noticed the lake had come to life. Boats were jetting past our patio and Jovana’s son played amongst the stilts of their home next door. Looking out the back window, we noticed the network of huts, all connected by wooden pathways above the island. Whilst waiting for Jovana’s scheduled breakfast, a very talkative cat appeared out of the hut network, briefly enquired if we had any treats, then ditched us for Jovana’s home when she realized we were useless in her snack hunt. Jovana appreaded once again with a tray loaded with food: a fluffy pancake for Jackson and two homemade quinoa pancakes for me, both equipped with jam and butter. Shortly after dropping this off, she reappeared with freshly cut mango and banana! Some peach tea to top things off and we were set to begin our day. Jovana had asked us if we wanted to tour the islands the night before, so at 10am she pulled up in her boat, this time accompanied by her son. The next two hours, we meandered through the Urous reed islands to see how each was constructed and to admire the skillfully built balsas. We made one key stop on the tour at Uro Island – this was fairly informative, but did end in the purchase of some unnecessary souvenirs. Whilst there, we sat down with a local, who explained the purpose of each hut – the pointy ones serve as kitchens, while the ones with more traditional, angled roofs are private spaces. Each island is shared by 2-3 families, a number that was once much higher. According to Jovana, the community struggled with Covid-19, which caused people to leave the lake in fear, while others died without proper medical services. As for the structural integrity of the islands, much hinges on regular upkeep, so new layers of totora reed must be applied every 15 days. The constant refresh of reeds seems to be top of mind for everyone, as it's easy to spot bundles of drying reeds leaning amongst the huts or clearly greener layers resting above the old. In the 1980s, the community was on the brink of extinction due to environmental pressures and a major storm that devastated their communities in the center of the lake. Now, the islands thrive off of tourism, something distinctly felt during our stay. During our educational presentation with the locals, a woman sat quietly on the ground, delicately weaving a bright blue wool thread through a muslin cloth and shaping the typical Urous motif of lake creatures. Once briefed on some quick facts, we were herded to board the island’s own balsa and prompted to pay an additional 5 Soles per person to board. Despite feeling like we didn’t need to go, the islander was relentless and didn’t let up until we handed over the cash and set foot aboard. Strangely, the balsa isn’t guided with paddles or its own motor, but is roped next to a motorboat. Seeing as we were attached to the side of the boat, our captain couldn’t see to her left and nearly caused a few accidents. Despite it being her fault, she still swore at the other boats with ferocious force in Aymara. Glad to escape the tourist trap, we boarded Jovana’s boat once more and quietly rode along the islands on the lake for a while. Jovana explained that the community has three schools (kindergarten, elementary, and middle school), but that she chose not to send her son there. Instead, she shuttles him between their floating home and the shore in Puno, so that he can have an education on land. Her reasoning? The water’s just too dangerous and unpredictable.

Arequipa

We left dreary Puno behind for a new adventure in Arequipa, a town described to us as a charming version of Cusco. To get to the famed ‘White City’, we decided to take a lengthy six-hour bus ride. Thankfully, we managed to book ourselves on some very plush seats for just $20 per person, so the journey was much more bearable! Leaving in the afternoon, the bus ride continued into the night, taking us over jittery, pot-hole-filled roads at 80 kmph and climbing to heights of 4,500 meters. Sounds delightful, right? Feeling pretty disheveled, we arrived in Arequipa around 8pm and ventured to our Airbnb. Of course, upon our arrival, we noticed that there were in fact no windows, the depicted living space and kitchen were shared, the paint was peeling off of the walls, and there was a lovely offering of urine in the toilet. Stunning. And so, with the hours creeping closer to midnight, we booked ourselves into a new Airbnb at lightning speed, packed up, and picked up a much-needed dinner from 13 Monjas along the way. Strangely, our new spot was located in the bowels of a hostel and featured a very cold shower. Frazzled, but relieved that our new booking was mildly better, we shoveled our curry dinner and went to bed.

We awoke to some unexpected guests below our balcony. Curiously and nervously eyeing our balcony from the rooftop below were two dogs – one a mid-sized mutt we dubbed Pablo, the other a stumpy pup with frizzy hair we (naturally) named Pablito. They appeared cautious and on guard at first, but once bribed with leftover bread, we quickly earned their trust. We decided to leave our friends behind to explore, setting off for breakfast at OSO first. The coffee was some of the best we’ve had in Peru and our Ecuadorian waiter jotted down a list of his favorite spots in town without being prompted. Fuelled by caffeine as usual, we were ready to begin our exploration of Arequipa’s many churches.

We began with the Santa Catalina Monastery, started in 1580 the monastery and accompanying church have become the region’s architectural prize jewel. In the early 1600s, the walls were painted red with terracotta and bright cerulean paint made from lime paint. This is the monastery’s most notable trait and makes it stand out from various viewpoints around the city. We opted for the self-guided tour around the complex, guided by a nifty app that takes you from area to area. Until 1970, the monastery had been closed off to the public for 300 years, so much of the inner workings and life of the nuns was unknown. Now, you can wander through their surprisingly large living spaces, each equipped with a stone-oven kitchen, a bed, and living room – some even had generous patios! In their day to day, nuns were under intense scrutiny and lived their days based on strict routines dictated by the Second Dominican Order. Contact to the outside world was minimal or cut off, with the intention of fully devoting themselves to their duties as women of god. Surely, this sounds limiting to most, but these women had a beautiful village of their own within the monastery walls. Beyond their living quarters, the complex features stunning squares adorned with bougainvilleas and fountains, gardens for growing fresh food, and beautifully painted chapels. One of our favorite and the most unique features was the “laundry” area. Located outside and on a sloped path, water was channeled to fill the half shells of terracotta vats that once served as pisco botijas. When the monastery operated at its full force, women lined the clay bowls and washed their habits – you can almost hear their cheerful chatting and the splashing of the water today.

That afternoon, we switched gears and decided to visit Alpaca World. No, this is not the Peruvian version of Disney World, but rather a fascinating place to learn about the evolution and revolution of camelid clothing. We learned that Peruvians have been using llama, alpaca, guanaco, and vicuña wool for clothing, blankets, and other goods for thousands of years. In the time of the Incas, such animals lived freely amongst the people of the empire and have long been seen as sacred religious animals that would appease the gods when sacrificed. It was only when a gentleman by the name of Frank Michell arrived in the Andean foothills and realized a commercial opportunity. At the time, camelid populations (especially the vicuña) were suffering from over-hunting. Frank took it upon himself to breed these animals to not only mass-produce their delicate wool, but to protect their populations from extinction. Today, Peruvian camelid wools are the finest in the world, where the vicuña produces softer and finer wool than its more well-known competitor: mongolian goats for cashmere. With that, vicuña products also come with a substantially heftier price tag. The exhibition begins at an animal enclosure where you can cautiously examine each of the animals (they spit), through the various meticulous stages of production, and lastly to the final product. Along the way, you have the chance to watch elderly women in Peruvian traditional dress as they carefully and precisely weave the wool by hand. Their beautiful, vibrant scarves are also available in the shop for a very special gift! Despite the impression that the Michells turned something ancient into something commercial, the company does seem to invest a great deal into sustainable production and continued species protection efforts. With their help the population of Vicuña in South America has grown from 5,000 in 1970 to 500,000 today.

Beyond these two main attractions, Arequipa has a lot of interesting nooks and crannies to explore. As mentioned, there are plenty of churches, many of which we popped into. We’ve seen quite a few churches on our trip, so most were comparable to one’s we’d seen before. That said, we did stumble upon the Templo La Compañia de Jesus, which has incredible painted ceilings. This is located in the far right corner of the church and can be entered for a small fee. The space is small and topped with a little dome, which is embellished with a kaleidoscope of scenes. Apparently, it is unknown who created these works of art, but it is assumed that it must have been a Peruvian artist, given the depictions of jungle life in the Amazon, integrating ancient tribes into biblical settings. A secret space that is well-worth a visit! We spent the rest of our short time in Arequipa exploring the various neighborhoods. Yanahuara was one of our favorites, as it offers amazing views over the city framed by engraved volcanic stone arches, tranquil parks, and hidden gardens that double as cozy breakfast spots. The center of town is highly versatile – you’ll easily wander from a cobblestone Plaza de Armas similar to Cusco to a bustling market for locals. The Mercado San Camilo is a fascinating maze of functional chaos. Similar to the San Pedro Market in Cusco, you can buy almost anything there. One side of the building houses fresh meat and fish stalls, while the other features rows and rows of souvenirs. On the far end, you can find a collection of juiceries run by charming women, each dressed in a hairnet and fruit splattered aprons. One of the most impressive sections in the center, however, is that of the fruit stands. The visuals are incredible: there is a single, wrinkled woman perched amongst a high-rise set of shelves, each packed with perfectly piled fruits in crimson, bright green, persimmon, yellow, and even fuchsia.

Our evenings in Arequipa were laden with delicious food, each from a place that was trendier than the next. The restaurants spill into courtyards and streets, fairy lights connecting the collection of tables to the restaurant’s nucleus: the kitchen. Our favorite spots were: 13 Monjas, Mumis, and OSO. On our last evening in the White City, we decided to take advantage of the multitude of rooftops. As the sun began to set, we watched the hues change over the city from Arequipa Boutique Hotel’s rooftop bar. From there we could see both of the major volcanoes towering above Arequipa, Misti and Chachani, both wrapped in a light pink blanket of clouds. And, right before the sun disappeared for the night, a gentle rainbow appeared in front of Misti, adding green and blue to the colors in the sky.

Nazca

Unfortunately, there is no convenient way to get from Arequipa to Nazca. No forty-five minute flight, no train, no straight road. Only a ten hour bus ride, mostly winding slowly over mountains and valleys, but primarily running along the coastal Pan-American express. Typically, this would make it a beautiful drive! Miles and miles of ocean views, featuring a spectacular sunset across the Pacific around the six hour mark of the trip - sounds fabulous, right? Riding in a bus with a madman for a driver, however, makes it quite a terrifying experience. Our bus hurdled around sharp bends, passing other vehicles in the tightest of spaces, nearly slamming into oncoming traffic several times, before diving back into the correct lane and hunting for the next gap to overtake slow trucks ahead. While Jackson sat idly by, appreciating the tenacity of the men and women who built this road along the coast, Sarah could only picture our bus launching itself towards certain death off a sharp turn taken a bit too quickly. After several stressful hours along the coast and white knuckles, we finally, mercifully, turned inland, towards our destination. Our bus deposited us near the town’s center, but you would never have guessed it, judging by the hush in the streets just after 9 pm. We slowly marched our way to our hotel, unencumbered ourselves of our bags, and turned in for the night.

The next morning, we awoke and embarked upon a flight over the mysterious Nazca lines, the only reason we had decided to stop here in the first place. However, after reading other travelers' experiences of their, sometimes treacherous, journeys, Sarah decided to keep both feet firmly planted on the ground, safe from the possibility of a rapid, uncontrolled landing. Undeterred by what others had to say, Jackson climbed aboard a small Cessna, strapped up the safety harness, and held on for dear life as the light aircraft bounced its way into the sky. The first figures began to appear almost immediately, the co-pilot pointing out the whale and the compass on the left side of the plane. To get the best view, the plane circled at a 45º bank to the right, then came back around and did the same on the left. The result of this precarious angle was a terrific view over each figure, with a sudden sense that the plane felt rather precarious, like it could fall out of the sky any minute. Happily, each time the pilot made one of these banking turns, the plane was able to right itself again and we continued on to our next figure to repeat the exercise. As we bounced and shook our way through the sky, we were able to spot the dog, spider, astronaut, hummingbird, condor, and several other figures, still precise after 2,500 years. Although the flight felt like an hour with so many maneuvers, we landed back at Maria Reiche Neuman airport after only 25 minutes, an incredibly efficient trip. With both of our feet on solid ground, we took a shuttle back to Nazca for a small lunch before our next bus north through Peru, this time to Huacachina.

Huacachina

Arriving in the Oasis of Huacachina, it was tough to comprehend that we were still in the same country as Cusco and Machu Picchu. Instead of lush forests and towering mountains, we were now next to a small lagoon, surrounded by tall dunes that spilled into an ocean of sand. This oasis lies just beyond the town of Ica, but feels completely removed – a backpacker’s paradise, a perfect spot for many to spend a few boozy days. The lagoon is surrounded by hostels, bars, and activity companies, offering everything from wine and pisco tours to dune buggy adventures and sandboarding. With less than 48 hours here, we settled into our hostel and headed for the bar to locate some much-needed food and drinks. Luckily, by staying at a hostel, they understand the concept of getting ‘bang for your buck”, so we had plenty of leftovers to feed the local perritos staking out these grounds.

The next morning, we decided to take advantage of everything on offer, starting with a walk around the oasis and a yummy breakfast from UTKU. We quickly followed this up with a long drive out to the Tacama Vineyard with plans to sample the vino and pisco from South America’s oldest winery. With the first vines planted in 1540, Tacama has slowly expanded through the centuries to become one of South America’s largest wineries, producing over two million bottles of wine and pisco each year. Before our short tour of the winery began, we had time to grab a bite to eat at their critically acclaimed restaurant and watch a Marinera performance. No, this is not a pasta sauce dance, but rather a sophisticated performance between dancer, horse, and caballero. The seamless movement between the three was truly impressive; each seemed to be perfectly in sync with the other two. When the show ended, we moved to the processing and aging parts of the estate, learning about their rather unique method to crafting premier wines, including aging the alcohol in concrete tubs rather than oak barrels. This part of the estate lies near the old monastery, which is currently home to the family who owns Tacama. Their wines were interesting, even if it wasn’t the best we’ve ever had. Alessandra, our tour guide, really tried to sell the history and innovation that goes into each bottle. Sadly for her, we were not tempted to buy any bottles of overpriced wine or pisco, so with one last look at the vineyard from the bell tower, we decided it was time to go back to our desert oasis.

With our trusty taxi driver Junior waiting patiently for us outside, we weaved wildly through Ica’s notorious traffic on our way back and arrived in the sand as the day’s temperatures were finally starting to drop. With a great sunset on the forecast, we headed out to trek up the tall dune behind our hostel for a view over all of Ica, Huacachina, and the desert beyond. To make this hike even better, one of our perrito friends from the hostel (we named him Charlie) decided to join us for this hike. We all pulled ourselves up the loose sand a few steps at a time, with many breaks to swear into the evening heat. By the time we reached the top, the sun was nearing its nightly kiss with the horizon, so the three of us sat down to take the whole world in. It seemed like we could see for miles, the endless curves of dunes stretched to the horizon ahead of us, while the ever-expanding city of Ica sat behind us. The sky lit us with reds and oranges as the sun's rays softened, hitting the swirling dust rising high above the dunes. With today’s show over, Charlie and Jackson sprinted down the dune, chasing each other the whole way, while Sarah took her time on the way down, marveling at the sandboarders shredding the orange powder. With a chalked full oasis day in the rear view mirror, we took Charlie out to dinner at the Tiki Backyard for some sneaky leftovers, then tucked back into our hostel.

Lima

We arrived back in Lima with no grand plans, having seen many of the highlights in the Peruvian capital during our first stop. Instead, we wanted to go back to some of our favorite bakeries, restaurants, and explore more of our favorite neighborhood, Miraflores. We began with a quick return to El Pan de Chola for an afternoon snack, and once again each dish was pure perfection – a crisp mix of light, refreshing flavors. El Pan de Chola reminded us of why we immediately fell in love with Peruvian cuisine, when done well. The right mix of Indigenous, European, Asian flavors and spectrum of ingredients create totally unique dishes you’ll only find here in Peru.

On our final full day in this beautiful country, we wanted to check out the Gold Museum, recommended by Jackson’s father, who remembered it from his visit to Peru almost 50 years ago. Must be good if it left that strong of an impression! We took a very long taxi ride across town to the Museo Oro del Peru and Armas del Mundo, a more recent addition to the metal exhibit. The gold museum is located downstairs behind huge vault doors and is absolutely packed with gold relics. Most of these artifacts come from the Sican and Moche peoples, pre-Incan civilizations that formed along Peru’s pacific coast between 100 and 1200 AD. Seeing all of their gold made us consider just how much the powerful Incan empire must have collected by the time Pizarro and the Spanish conquistadors showed up in the 1500’s. It’s easy to understand why they thought they’d found the mythical city of gold – this stuff was just everywhere! We walked through room after room, marveling at the gold masks, crowns, earrings, headpieces, and even gloves, but what we didn;t expect was: mummies. Packed into glass containers amongst the precious metals, were five surprisingly well-preserved mummies, curled into their burial poses. Their teeth, hair, and even skin were all still attached, their remains tightly wrapped around what was left of their skeletons. If these full figured people hadn’t been unsettling enough, around the room sat about a dozen severed head trophies…also with their skin still attached. Accompanying some of them were detached fingers, femur bones, or feet. Standing in this basement, surrounded by mummies and other remains, we felt deeply uncomfortable, like these guys could come back and jump on us at any moment. After slowly backing away from these bodies, we turned our attention to the vast display of items upstairs that may have aided in their demise. The collection here was truly impressive – weapons, uniforms, and medals from many different eras and civilizations, including some personal gifts from world leaders like the King of Thailand and the last Emperor of Ethiopia. Less impressive and more haunting were the large window displays highlighting weapons and medals once possessed by controversial figures from the likes of the military juntas in Peru, Chile, and Argentina, as well as Nazi high command and the Spanish conquistadors. A bit perplexed by this museum, but very impressed with the huge number of gold artifacts we had seen, we returned to the sunlight where we ventured back to Miraflores. That final evening, we walked to the heart of this suburb for one final Nikkei meal at Tokuyo. Filling up on ceviche, tiradito, and Peruvian sushi, we reflected on our final South American destination of this year and got ready to cross the equator one final time on our grand adventure.