In which Layla and Roz take a bike ride and fall in love against their will.

Having checked into our delightfully upgraded room, we went out in search of dinner.  Our first stop was to hunt for a potato restaurant, well reviewed on Tripadvisor and which we had failed to find before. But this time Layla was "sure" she knew where it was. Having, yet again, failed to find the potato restaurant, we contemplated a couple of options before admitting that what we really wanted to do was to go to the delightful creperie in the Alliance Francais. Once we had admitted that to ourselves, life got a lot easier, and we both indulged ourselves.  But I should explain that this creperie is no ordinary place - it is a lovely combination of wine bar / cool place for trendy Peruvians to hang out / top date choice.  We people-watched and I drank delicious mohitos whilst Layla looked more abstemious with her local beer. And it was very jolly.  We headed back for the night, contemplating without immense enthusiasm our relatively early start for cycling the next morning.  

Next morning, Layla was barely able to walk. To get downstairs, she clutched the banisters and did an excellent impression of a very old lady.  Possibly an old lady who had recently broken a leg and was afraid of falling.  But, naturally, that wasn't any reason not to cycle - and so I assured Layla robustly.  We met a very cute boy in reception who had come to take us on our cycle tour.  He hid his perplexedness at Layla's crippled state moderately well and we hopped in a cab to go to his partner's house to pick up our bikes.  A 15 minute cab ride later and we were in the depths of Arequipa's suburbia.  And delightful it was - pretty pedestrianized streets and so forth. Bikes were brought out for us by his partner who told us that "there are a few hills in this ride...have no pride, get off any time you want, he has all the time in the world". We found this reassuring. Not that I have a lot of pride when it comes to cycling up big hills anyway...

And so we set off, with Layla barely able to mount the bike due to her sore legs.  The ride started off through the suburbs of Arequipa and I was struck / traumatized to find that it doesn't seem to be the mission of every car driver in Arequipa to kill 

passing cyclists.  Revelatory! We then headed off-road - my first experience of doing so.  I would like to say that I took to it like a duck to water, but I must confess that I couldn't get used to the idea that mountain bikes are built to go over rocks and therefore squealing when approaching a large stone isn't absolutely necessary... We wove our way by the sides of very pretty fields, with the picturesque volcanoes as our backdrop. Very lovely.  Less lovely was heading back on to the road and going sharply uphill.  This was a moment where I was able to demonstrate my lack of pride.  As was Layla (who definitely had more excuse than me, being still able to barely walk). At the top of the hill we found ourselves at the top of some terraced agricultural land which had been created by the Incas, who had put in place the irrigation, the walls and, frankly, everything. The majority of the rest of the ride was weaving our way through these terraces, by the side of people still working on the fields now, together with llamas, sheep and other random animals.  We also passed a water mill (and we both cycled through water for the first time).  Very jolly indeed.  Going downhill was not unpleasant either... 

Depositing our bikes after a brilliant morning, we got a taxi back to town and assured ourselves that it didn't matter if Layla's legs were a bit more broken after the cycling.  We then headed out for a delightful lunch of falafel and hummus and so forth, lingering over a beer / fizzy water to contemplate our plans for the rest of the holiday and reading a little.  Eventually we headed back to the hotel and asked them to recommend somewhere for a massage - my guilt at Layla's sore legs suggesting to me that something needed to happen. An appointment was booked for us and we were soon whizzing out to what turned out to be a moderately posh spa where ladies who lunch in Arequipa go for their massages / pedicures and so forth.  We both opted for a massage (my legs, though not as bad as Layla's, were not unaware of the demands that had been put upon them) and we found ourselves being massaged simultaneously by two very pleasant ladies who then told Layla that her legs were sore because of sunburn, not exertion.  Whilst I was entirely willing to believe this might be a contributing factor, I did rather doubt this...but who am I to argue. We ordered a cab back to town and whilst waiting for it amused ourselves with translating Peruvian magazines covering the Royal wedding...

Back at the hotel, eventually, we decided to have one last attempt at finding the much looked for potato restaurant.  Against the odds (poor google mapping and so forth) we did indeed find it and had a very jolly night in this hole in the wall place, packed with locals for at least part of the time who were watching the Peruvian equivalent of X Factor. Wandering home at the end of the night, passing lots of beautifully tempting looking bars and restaurants, we bemoaned the fact that we were leaving Arequipa the next day - and resolved that we definitely wouldn't like Cusco, our next destination, nearly as much. After all, we told each other, the weather isn't as good there and it sounds much more touristy. And so, resolved to dislike Cusco, we went to bed.  

And yet this morning we were up bright and early for our flight to Cusco. We touched down here at 9.15, to find ourselves in a chilly and grey place.  We told ourselves we had been right to bemoan leaving Arequipa.  Having arrived at our hotel, we decided to settle down in a nearby coffee shop with books. And then we couldn't find an appropriate coffee shop. "Aha", we said "not nearly as good as Arequipa". We ended up taking refuge in a very pretty Starbucks, to take advantage of their wifi to try and plan our time over the next few days.  We then meandered in the direction of an odd sounding cafe, which was essentially a bit like entering a children's story book - on crack. In a good way.  We had a delightful lunch and I had a fabulous time reading my book, until Layla reminded me we had seen nothing of Cusco yet.  Having dumped some of our stuff in our hotel, we then embarked on a Lonely Planet walking tour of the city.  And - against my will - I found myself entirely seduced by the place. Even though it rained a bit.  And even though it was chilly.  We wandered through cobbled streets to a market (where we seemed the only tourists and we ordered fresh juice mixes to be whipped up for us) and then past the Justice Palace (I had missed the one in Arequipa, to my sorrow). We meandered past Inca walls, and staggered (in Layla's case anyway) up pretty alleyways. We speculated where Cusco reminded us of and then agreed that it was a mix of the prettiest old European capitals - Montmartre mixed with old Amsterdam, mixed with Rome.We stopped for cocktails in a cool bar and played dominos and then walked home in the twilight admitting that, after all, Cusco is really very lovely indeed.