Nothing has changed. I still goosebump with excitement whenever someone brings it up... or when I bring it up... Okay, usually it's me bringing it up.
Sunday Funday is legendary.
Well, today I celebrated Sunday Funday - Arequipa style.
We arrived in the second largest city in Peru yesterday morning.
We found a place to stay, showered, dropped our bags, and went out to explore the city center.
Quite honestly, it proved to be like most other city centers we'd seen. Cathedrals, churches, plazas, open air markets, etc.
Considering it is the rainy season in Peru right now, we have been surprisingly lucky.
But yesterday?
It poured. Buckets.
On the plus side, it was national Pisco Sour Day (the national drink of Peru), so there were some deals that we were able to take advantage of as we stepped into various restaurants and bars to get out of the torrential downpour.
Pisco Sours aside, this morning we woke up really wanting to do something different.
We had heard about some viewpoints on the outskirts of the city that were within walking distance, so we decided to give it a shot.
True to most of our experiences thus far, something that seemed less than complicated ended up taking quite a long time.
We asked about 37 different people for directions and each of these 37 people seemed to tell us different things.
Finally, we reached the look-out (we're still not even sure if it was the right one) and the fog and the clouds hung so low in the sky that all we could really see were several hundred feet of farmland as opposed to "El Misti," the extremely active volcano near the city.
We were okay with it though. It had been nice to go for a hike.
As we began our descent back into the city, it started misting and, afraid that a downpour was inevitable, we ducked into a restaurant along the side of the road.
It was quite rowdy inside and it became clear very early on that this was not a "tourist spot." The small room was full of locals - eating, drinking and being merry.
Oh and they were all casually hammered at 3:00pm on a Sunday... My kind of people.
So we sat in the corner and sipped on cheap Peruvian beers, deliberating as to whether to get food here.
Suddenly, the cheerful old owner of the restaurant (at least, we assumed that was his role) brought another beer over to the table. My sister tried to explain that we hadn't ordered another and he cut her short, telling her that it was a gift from the red-haired woman at the next table over.
We divvied it up between our three glasses and made a gesture of thanks towards the woman, she warmly gestured back.
No sooner had we finished this second beer, than the owner came over with another "gift" from the woman.
At this point my sister decided that, if we were going to stay and drink, we should at least have a little sustenance. So, she and Amanda went over to ask the women in the very exposed kitchen about the different menu items and, in the meantime, be very directly engaged in a conversation with an extremely drunk man that, undoubtedly, had some connection to the rest of the merriment going on in the small eatery.
While they were gone, the mysterious red-haired woman that had given the beer gifts (my favorite kind of gift, I might add) came over to talk to me.
The conversation was, for me, slightly uncomfortable, but to an outsider, probably hilarious.
Due to her level of extreme inebriation and my less than mediocre Spanish skills, there was very little communication going on.
However, there was a lot of face-holding (her hands, my face) and head kissing (her lips, my head).
Amanda kept locking eyes with me from the kitchen and laughing, but I felt that the least I could do was let her stroke my cheeks and plant wet ones on my forehead. I mean... she'd given me beer, right?
Eventually, Maggie and Amanda returned with food. We were very unclear as to what most of it was, but we gobbled it down anyway.
Just as we were leaving, we were once again accosted by a group of drunk men who continued to gift us with beer as they discussed their work in the mines nearby. Apparently, Sunday was their only day off. It seemed to be tradition: bring their families to the restaurant, eat and drink until nightfall, get up and go to work again, repeat. Every week. I'd say they deserved a drink... or twenty.
Finally, amid loud goodbyes from all of the local patrons, we were able to make our exit and return to the city center.
We had to take a few deep breaths after the slightly overwhelming experience, but we were all able to acknowledge how memorable it would be.
You see, as tourists, it is easy to get sucked into the same cycle:
Go to a city.
See everything in the guide book.
Go to a market.
Eat some food.
You get the idea.
It is the unique experiences -- like getting day drunk with a bunch of local, middle-aged Peruvians -- that will truly stick with you.
Long live Sunday Funday.
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