Back to the mountains
24 & 25th July. From Nazca to Arequipa, we covered the distance over two long days. One night we camped in a small, rocky bay at a 1 star beach ‘resort’. We paid to camp on their property & they gave us access to one of the rooms to have a warm shower in. Too tired to do anything else, we collapsed into bed around 9 p.m., lulled to sleep by the gentle lap of waves on the shore.
Long driving days can get a little boring, so we crank the tunes & introduce the kids to Pink Floyd, Rolling Stones, U2 etc… Now and then, the road crosses through broad valley floors where rivers drain into the ocean—brief pockets of green in an otherwise dusty landscape. Crops follow one after another. First came the olive groves. We’re not big olive eaters, and the oil was ‘highway robbery’ prices, so we passed. Next were the orange trees. We bought a big bag—and they were the juiciest, most flavour-packed oranges we’ve ever had.
Further down the sand is moving, trying to cover the road. I imagine they would have to get a ‘sand plow’ to clear the road. They were thick, we couldn’t drive over or through them. There was a heavy police presence as the road was only recently reopened. Miners across the country shut down major trucking routes in protest for around 2 weeks. We were lucky on our timing.
As our turn approached, we took one final look at the Pacific. Heading inland we began the long climb back towards the Andes. The terrain shifted gradually, from low desert to high plains, with each passing hour, we felt the altitude effect creeping in. It will likely take a few days again before we acclimate.
arequipa – the White City
26th July. Perched at over 2,300 meters, Arequipa is Peru’s second-largest city, often called La Ciudad Blanca—The White City—for its stunning colonial buildings made from sillar, a pale volcanic stone. It’s framed by three majestic volcanoes: Misti, Chachani, and Pichu Pichu.
The city is both geographically striking and culturally rich—a historic hub of Spanish colonial power, steeped in Catholic tradition, Andean heritage, with a modern pulse.
We camped for two nights on the grounds of an old colonial home, now a hostel that welcomes Overlanders. Tucked behind a long stone wall and surrounded by gardens, it had a tricky entrance off a busy road, but once inside it felt peaceful. A little on the pricey side, $32 CAD p/night, but the endless hot shower and clean bathrooms we were happy to pay. Best of all, it was just a 10-minute walk into the heart of town.
Plaza de Armas
Arequipa’s central plaza is among the most beautiful we’ve seen in Peru—lush palms, tidy flower beds, wide stone paths, all anchored by the magnificent cathedral, its white towers rising dramatically with Misti Volcano looming behind. The vibe was lively but not chaotic; the city felt modern, safe, and genuinely welcoming.
One afternoon, the kids asked to stay behind in the camper to work on their art, so Tim and I stole a few hours and wandered the streets in peace. Stopping for lunch at Tanta, a popular local restaurant. We sipped cold pisco sours, climbed to the rooftop terrace, and soaked in the sunset. It was a lovely, relaxing afternoon.
Meanwhile, the kids were completely content—sketching and creating, happy to have the space to themselves. One day exploring the city was enough for them.
Historic santa catalina monastery
27th July. On our final morning in the city, we made an early visit to the Santa Catalina Monastery, arriving just as the gates opened. We joined a tour in English just the four of us and the guide—which gave us an intimate look at what life was like inside this remarkable convent so long ago.
Founded in 1579, the Santa Catalina Monastery was designed as a city within a city. It spans over 20,000 square meters, with cobbled streets, courtyards, gardens, kitchens, and private houses. For centuries, it was a closed religious community—completely sealed off from the outside world.
gifted to the church at 12
We learned how wealthy Spanish families would send their second-born daughters, often between the ages of 12 and 14, here to become nuns, so that they would devote their lives to praying for them. These girls brought with them large dowries—sometimes enough to build an entire home within the convent walls. For the first four years, the young novices lived in total isolation, unable to speak to their families. We visited the speaking room, a small chamber where conversations with family were allowed—but only through a wooden grate that was in front of a heavy curtain, no touching allowed, and only after the initial training years had passed.
At first, I was struck by how cruel this life must have been—so much solitude and separation at such a young age. But hearing more of the context, I began to understand. The alternative for many girls was a forced marriage to an older man and a life spent raising a dozen or more children. In contrast, life in the convent offered a kind of security. The nuns had private rooms, gardens, possessions, embroidery, and music. Some were teachers to upper-class girls sent to live at the convent to learn good manners and proper conduct.
We wandered through the miniature homes, still bearing traces of the lives once lived inside. Open-air kitchens with soot-blackened walls, huge pottery urns sliced in half and used for washing clothes, and quiet rooftop terraces where the nuns could sit in the sun. The courtyards were peaceful, with bright painted walls in red, blue, and orange, fountains with koi fish, and pigeons bathing in the water.
We found the mortuary room a bit odd—painted portraits of dead nuns lined the walls, painted not in life but after death. In one courtyard, we saw murals of the prayers novices were required to recite four times a day, walking in circles as they memorized the words. The whole place was beautiful and haunting all at once, an echo of lives both constrained and yet quietly rich in their own way.
Should we linger a little longer?
We really enjoyed our time here—the city, the stories, and the peaceful corners we found within it. Once again, we’re asking ourselves Are we moving too quickly? Should we linger a little longer? But the road keeps calling, and the clock won’t wait.
Back at camp, we chatted with other travellers. One American couple, heading north, shared some great lesser-known spots in Chile and Argentina—now added to our ever-growing ‘must see’ list.
An afternoon exit, unusual for us, 1pm on a Saturday afternoon, we join the slow procession of traffic as we head North out of the city. Next stop, the vast Colca Canyon...