DAY 3 -- CHACHAPOYAS

I wake several times during the night as the Movil Tours luxury coach lurches slowly--at times at a walking pace--along unpaved roadways. My GPS tracks our route, always giving an indication of how much farther there is yet to travel. Mostly I sleep, but once I awake to find the bus proceeding gingerly, the driver busily wiping condensation from the inside of the windshield so he can make out the treacherous roadway, and out my window on the right-hand side of the bus I see only the roaring rapids of Rio Utcubamba only just ghostly visible in the pre-dawn darkness. The river is probably not more than 10 feet (3+ meters) below the roadway, and try as I might I cannot make out anything between the bus and the river itself.

It´s not long from that incident to the time we pull into the bus station in Chachapoyas at about 6 a.m. Katty and I join up again to make our way through the streets of the awakening city. We see a dead dog at the edge of a street, and I saw a total of three such unfortunate animals in the space of 12 hours.

We each have our guide books and we go to investigate a couple of hostels right on the Plaza de Armas. Katty can speak rather fluent Spanish and is not reticent about finding the rock-bottom cost of a room (or a tour). A nice private room with bath can be had at Hostal Revash (Grau 517) for 25 soles (about $8 USD). She uses that leverage to great advantage next door at Hotel Plaza (previously the Hostal El Tejado) where we get private rooms with bath for 20 soles (about $6.50 USD). (NOTE: There is no sign outside our lodging that actually names the property. Guide books say that it is now the Hotel Plaza, and that it was formerly the Hostal El Tejado. One thing is certain, though, and that´s the address: Grau 534.)

Katty and I want to have something to eat. I suggest a nearby spot (Panificadora San Jose, Ayacucho 816) that could well have a decent breakfast. And how! They have a wide selection of cakes (tortas) and pastries (pasteles) attractively displayed in glass cases. A couple of pastries, fresh squeezed fruit juice (your choice of apple, pineapple, orange, mango, banana) served in a large glass, and a fresh fruit salad (a heaping portion of all the previously mentioned fruits, plus grapes), and a cappuccino will set you back about $3 USD. And the setting is as nice as the menu and prices.

I came to Chachapoyas to go to Kuelap, as did Katty. We decide that she´ll look into the various possibilities for a trip tomorrow. We´ll meet up later to discuss plans.

I make a vain attempt to nap, then set out to take care of such business as dropping off some laundry, visiting the tourist information office, and signing onto the Internet to check mail and enter trip notes. All this can be accomplished within a half-block of the Plaza de Armas.

Something quite novel occurred while I sat on a bench on the plaza. A young lady approached me, sat down, and began talking to me in halting English. So far, nothing unusual...

Her name was Maria and her claim to be 23 years old was plausible. She was pretty, but seemed kind of sad. She was intent on keeping me talking to her. If I mistook her for a merchant of a sort, I´m sorry, but I wasted little time excusing myself and heading across the plaza to my lodging.

Mid-afternoon I ask Eric at my lodging for possible places to walk. I´m directed to the hills above Chachapoyas. I ask about the safety of walking in the city and am assured that it is safe, unlike, I´m told, Trujillo and Chiclayo. I set out through the narrow streets for about 1/4-mile (400 m). As I reached Calle Yanayacu, most streets are unpaved; I take one of these still higher above the city. It´s a poor area (barrio) of Chachapoyas, even poorer than the main city itself.

Nothing seemed threatening but some dogs. They had me wondering about possible rabies treatment procedures that would follow being bitten by an unknown dog. I guess I convinced the perros that I wasn´t gonna run from them or in any other way betray my rapidly beating heart. I continued on, taking pictures of the city from the high vantage point. Some young schoolgirls agreed to pose for me and took delight in immediately seeing their image on the camera´s display. Then they wanted another one, this time with a tiny chick about the size of one of the girl´s hands. The hilltop provided a beautiful vista to the west as well. Late afternoon now, I take another route down and back to my lodging.

PICTURES FROM A WALK ABOVE CHACHAPOYAS

Katty and I have a beer in the hostal´s bar/restaurant. She reports on what she has found out about tours to Kuelap. Soon a whirlwind enters the room in the guise of a fast-talking Aussie of Peruvian ancestry. He´d just arrived with his father and, by God, he was going to put together a tour group on the spot to visit Kuelap tomorrow. Bruce is traveling with his equally good-natured--but less ebullient--father, Javier, who emigrated from Peru to Australia before Bruce was born.

Nothing would do but for Katty and I to join the father-son team who had already enlisted a Swiss couple for the tour. In the back of the bar were two young men who had been on my bus from Trujillo to Chachapoyas. Andy (intense, swarthy, born in Ethiopia of an American military man and an Ethiopian woman) and Isaac (rail thin, goateed, a son of hippie parents who lived at least some of his life, like me, in Missoula, Montana) soon signed-up as well for tomorrow´s tour to Kuelap.

That settled, Katty and I walked several blocks to a restaurant (La Tushpa; Ortiz Arrieta 753) recommended for its parilla-style (i.e., grilled over glowing wood embers) meats. La Tushpa is upscale, lively, and serves delicious food. We shared a combination of grilled meats (steak, pork, chicken, and a kabob of grilled pieces of beef heart) served on a sizzling hibachi set in the middle of the table. The entree was served with individual plates of papas fritas (french fries) and palta (avocado) salad. A bottle of wine contributed to a total bill of less than $15 USD.

Perhaps it´s time to add a bit about Katty. I mentioned that she is German, but her half-Croatian heritage has bestowed on her dark features that could easily be mistaken for a Peruvian or Argentinian, a Spanish or Italian, background. She is a world traveler with a dozen or more--maybe many more--countries stamped in her passport. She recently quit her job in Berlin in order to study dance for a short time in Amsterdam, then to travel. She has been in South America since the first of this year and will have to return home at the end of May. There is more that I hope she´ll not be too uncomfortable reading...

Just as Shaquille O´Neal must know that he´s an extraordinarily big man, so must Katty know that she´s an extraordinary beauty. Not movie star looks. More than that. You might find comparable beauty on the cover of Vogue or Elle. Might. I can tell her parents--who are, incidentally, years younger than me--that their daughter is as nice a person as she is a fetching young woman. It was my great good fortune to spend a portion of my trip in her company.

You know, it´s probably not easy being Shaq, but I´m certain he´s very willing to accept the stares of gawkers as the price of the fame and fortune that is his. Likewise, who would not choose great beauty if offered that option? Yet it might be a burden. I know that it took awhile before I was comfortable being with Katty. But it got easier and we talked...mostly about travel and the politics of her highly socialized country, and then we walked back to the hostal.