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Arequipa buying blow

The Best Hostels in Peru. Where To Stay in Lima: Barranco vs. Is Ayacucho, Peru Worth Visiting? Palccoyo vs. Skip to content Southern Peru. Share this: Twitter Facebook. Like this: Like Loading Loading Comments Email Required Name Required Website.

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Arequipa buying blow

This story was contributed by a gringo expat in Bogota, Mark Kennedy. I lived in Arequipa for a year and, coincidentally, he lived there for a while too. He was even locked up one night. I was living in a hostel that overlooked a year-old monastery. After spending the day finishing an article for a British travel website , a night on the town was well deserved. I had a few beers with other backpackers in the hostel, but it was a weekday and no one wanted to go out. I entered a non-descript building with large wooden doors that led to a courtyard. The courtyard was home to three different bars. In the biggest of the three I got a beer and sat at a table. There was a group of what looked like high school aged kids hanging around an older guy in a suit. When I went for another beer they approached me. Suit-n-tie told me he was an English professor at a local university, and he was there with three of his students. We talked about what I thought of Arequipa, of Peru, and what my country is like. I asked him why he was out drinking with the kids. When the students had scurried off, Suit-n-tie said he could drink me under the table. He bought a bottle of pisco for the table, with two shot glasses. By this time the bar had filled up nicely, even with some eye candy. No matter. It burns like the fires of hell when drunk neat. After a while the professor started to struggle. I called him weak for chasing his shots with water. He eventually got up and went to the bathroom. I poured generous amounts into their glasses — glasses of beer, rum, wine, whatever. Not everybody was happy about my generosity. Later I found the professor passed out in the bathroom stall and helped him outside and into a cab. Then I was drinking with a few other gringos. My new friends and I pulled him off. Someone got him in a head-lock and the rest of us carried him by his arms and legs toward the exit. A well-dressed Peruvian — probably the owner of one of the smaller bars — rushed ahead to open the wooden doors and we literally threw him out on his ass. I remember him kicking at the giant doors and calling for the girl while we laughed and went back for another round. It became obvious what had set the guy off. Back in the bar his Barbie-lookalike tramp was all smiles, working her way around the room and grinding away to the music with whoever approached her including me and kissing whoever wanted one again, me. I somehow left the bar and was drinking some liquor from a green bottle with four Peruvian guys in the street. It was well sun-up, maybe 7 am, with cars and people passing by on their way to work. We drank and laughed. Hector suggested we smoke a joint at his place. A taxi took us away from the city centre and wound up the side of a mountain to the shantytowns above. It dawned on me that I was hanging out with true-blue working class, salt-of-the-earth people. We got out of the cab near a school and someone pulled out a bag of weed and began to roll a joint. Before we could spark up we heard the sound of sirens, and I turned around to see a black police SUV with lights flashing. Everyone scattered. I ran downhill and Hector followed. We were running directly down the slope of the mountain, perpendicular to the winding road we had come up. I tripped on something and landed face-first in the dust. I fell the rest of the way down to the road, just as another police SUV pulled up to us. They had us bracketed. Two cops got out of the truck with their guns drawn. Still on my ass, my hands shot up and I froze. Handcuffed in the back of the police truck, I wondered how hard Peruvian prison is. I was bleeding from the left side of my face, elbow, and my knee was bruised and bloodied too. There was a sizable tear in my pants, and I was covered in dust. Bribing my way out of this mess was out of the question. At the police station we were led to a holding cell, where they un-cuffed us and pushed us in. There were about 10 guys in the cell — drug addicts, insane rambling weirdos, homeless people, petty thieves. Their eyes widened and they all stiffened up as we came in. No one looked at me, they were all staring at Hector. Hector walked over to an old bearded drunk sitting on a bench. The guy gave up his seat instantly. Hector nodded at the guy next to him and he moved too, then he motioned to me to come sit down. Then everyone stared at me, mumbling to each other. I asked Hector why everyone was afraid, and Hector replied in Spanish. Eventually the police took Hector and me from the cell. A desk cop adjusted papers in front of him, eyeing us up and down. At another desk, some light-skinned Peruvian rich kid was being interviewed by another cop. I gathered the rich kid is talking about me. This set me off. Say it to my face! The cop interrogated us and I barely paid attention. His tone suggested he was trying to convince the cop that I did whatever he was accused of. The cop at our desk said something and walked off. Hector told me that when we get out, he wants me to come to his house and meet his son. Then I was picked up by a big Peruvian cop and thrown back into the holding cell. The interrogation continued without me. Hector was already there, in handcuffs. Two cops sat in front, one of whom was talking on the radio. We sat for about five minutes. Then the rich kid walked past — a free man apparently — into the waiting arms of his mom. Fucking pantywaist. Hector laughed too and so did I. The mood lightened. I was put in the back of the other car and we sped off. The English-speaking cop asked if I had my passport. I got a cold feeling in my bowels. Is he taking me to some ditch to shoot me in the back of the head or something? Will I be disappeared? He drove to the hostel and we went inside. I explained to the door guy that I need my passport and he gave me my room key. Some gringos saw the state I was in, being escorted by a police officer, and just stared. I retrieved my passport and got back in the car. I was sat down on a bench and told to wait. A lot of time passed. The sun looked like late afternoon through the window. I laid down on the bench and faded in and out of sleep. I woke to two cops arguing. Most tourists come after being mugged or to report their cameras, bags, or wallets stolen. Finally I was led to a desk and told in English that I was caught with a known drug dealer, but there was no evidence that I was involved in any illegal activity. I was fingerprinted, required to sign a few forms, and then told I could go. The cop gave me back my passport, along with a piece of paper. I had no idea what it said. I was led out and the officer told me which way to get back to my hostel. We shook hands and I limped away. I spent the next three days in my hostel tending my wounds. The hostel staff translated the document the police gave me. Ten hours in police custody before they could reach this conclusion? Fair trade I suppose. I still have a scar on my elbow and my knee from that day. The past is real. See InHouse Bogota on Facebook. Like Like. I recall two guys, regular visitors to the Dominican Republic ,were involved in something similar. Anyway, the local guys they were with walked and they ended up with something like 2 years in the slammer. I wondered how hard Peruvian prison is.. Careful about making assumptions about the writer Rawley. How much time have you spent behind bars in Peru? I wont go into my past Mark.. Oh and btw.. Sure thing Rawley. Just want to say that I spent three weeks in Peru this summer, and about 5 days in Arequipa. I have been living in Bogota now for four and a half years. Colombia is awesome. Peru is not. Peru is my 25th country I have seen, and that includes my tenth in latin american. Peru, in every sense of word, blows ass. The people SUCK…. The women are the ugliest I have ever seen…anywhere, ever, by far. The best looking girl I saw in Peru would be a 2 out of 10 in Colombia. The food was ok…but thats about it. Asshole people and extremely ugly women are a bad combination. I saw more kids shitting in the street than women I would touch. I also saw more hot women in my first 30 seconds upon returning to Bogota than I saw combined in 3 weeks in Peru. It is the only country I will never, ever go back to. By the way, Arequipa is a shithole as well. Peruvians are the most worthless human beings I have ever encountered. Fuck all em. Skip to content. May 28, Colin peru 13 comments. The neighborhood Mark was arrested in could have been any number of hillside slums. Great story. Glad everything worked out. Now maybe if you were in China, or some Middle Eastern country…now that is scary. 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Arequipa buying blow