A Treatment of a Typical Night Out in Arequipa

...it starts out with a cheap cervesa in one of the countless restaurants and bars here. A beer costing no more than $2 and surprisingly malty in taste. Accompanied by a set menu meal consisting of crema(soup) and a main course for the princely sum of $3. And then its time to move, negotiating the street vendors selling anything from cigarettes to sunglasses and always disgruntled when you turn them down. A brisk walk will always bring you past a number of bars all with happy hours. Las Bruhas or Swedish Avenue have 3 of any cocktails for $3 resulting in a rosey glow. A bit of small talk degenerating into the foulest depths of the human psyche and back again. Until someone, and this is a certainty clambers on top of the nearest bar, aided with encouragement from the staff and does an uncertain jig until (a) he/she falls on their face or (b) he/she suffers a moment of clarity and realises the precariousness of their present position. Some slurred words will then agree the best course of action is a few more drinks in local club, Daddy O´s(con Karaoke, Dj´s and live music), the Forum(fully equiped with beds and water feature) or De Ja Vu(Lonely Planet hangout, ie too expensive). And this is where the night gets complicated.
Locals are invariably attracted to travellers. I don´t know why, we look like crap, smell of moth balls, (if we are lucky), and are generally too drunk to stand unaided. Men will be attacked by ferocious women who pound their ample arses into their crotches and swing the drunk lout across the room. Women will be accosted by men who speak two lines of English poetry and think it is enough to get them into bed. (Sadly it is sometimes.) It is necessary to stay in a group at this stage but it never works as we are all too drunk, being seperated by the locals into manageable groups or moreover than not alone. It is at this stage you make the choice. Dance badly to raggaton or try to slowly slip away from the clutches of a vulture.
If escape is possible you are generally the target for the night vendors who sell chocolate, fags, water, and other munchies. But nothing savoury. As you cross the Plaza De Armas it is necessary to avoid the chocolate selling Santa, who will chase you back to your hostel. Where finally you can watch the sun rise from your rooftop terrace, or just fall asleep.
...Time to burn your LONELY PLANETS, they are misinformed, with questionable itinereries and they strangely enough push the prices up. Any publication that gives its reporters three weeks to research a country has to be bad. Come on you know I´m right, how many times have you stood outside an abandoned building expecting to see a hostel? To prove this I intend to travel Ireland next year with the Lonely Planet to see how accurate it really is. Challenge, duel.
All are welcome.
Heading to Cuzco on Monday, protests permitting.