La Ciudad Blanca

Jose Vasquez stood on the corner and stamped his walking stick on the sidewalk.
"Here it is," he said.
He pulled off his fishing cap to expose his bald forehead. Beads of sweat dripped over his eyebrows. He drew his arm across his forehead as he looked towards the sun.
“Here’s what?” asked Carolina.
"Ancient Incas walked and walked across the mountains of Peru until they found this city. They stopped and said, 'Yes, Here it is."
"Is that true, Papa?"
"Not really,” he answered.
“Then why did you tell me that?”
“I mean…some people say they said ‘Here, stay,’ while others think it means “Relax here.’ Still, others say that Arequipa means ‘Yes, here.’
“What do you think it means?” asked Teresa.
“In a way it means all of those things, Come with me, I want to show you something.”
Carolina and Teresa each grabbed one of Mr. Vasquez’s hands before crossing the street. They continued down the sidewalk and under an arched doorway, entering into a square.
“Where are we going?”
As they walked through the intersection, Carolina looked up as her father had. The white buildings glimmered in the bright mid-day sun.
“Aren’t all these buildings beautiful?”
“I think it’s boring in a way. Why are they all white?” asked Teresa.
“They’re white because the buildings are made from white volcanic rock,” answered Mr. Vasquez.
“That’s impossible. Volcano rocks are gray and black, not white,” argued Teresa.
“The volcanic rocks used in these buildings are white. They’re called sillar.”
“It’s romantic,” said Carolina, “Everywhere you look, these beautiful buildings reflect the sunlight.”
“I just think it’s very plain is all,” sighed Teresa.
“I think it’s romantic, don’t you, Papa?”
“In a way, yes. I know of no other city in the world where the buildings shimmer like this.”
As they continued down the sidewalk, an archway opened in the wall beside them. Mr. Vasquez led the girls through the archway to. a small square on the other side.
“Where are we going?” asked Teresa. Mr. Vasquez said nothing, but continued walking towards a row of buildings on the other side of the town square. He went up to a door and opened it, and then he went inside the building.
Just inside the door sat a row of office desks with a person behind each one.
“Welcome to One World Travel, I’m Marta. What can I do for you today?”
“I need to buy a plane ticket to Cusco.”
“Come with me,” said Marta. Mr. Vasquez and the girls followed Marta to one of the desks and sat down. Marta sat behind her computer and smiled.
“What’s this for?” asked Teresa.
“Not what, but who,” said Mr. Vasquez.
“Who? Who?” asked Teresa.
“It’s for Carolina. Uncle Jorge wanted her to work with him for the summer and he sent us the money for a ticket.”
“I’m going to the Alpaca Ranch again this Summer?”
“Yes, you are.”
“I can’t wait to see Cousin Miguel and Uncle Jorge,” said Carolina.
“Can I go, too?” asked Teresa.
“Uncle Jorge only sent money for one ticket.”
“Awww.”
“Maybe some other time,” said Mr. Vasquez.
“It’s not that big of a deal,” said Carolina.
“Maybe not to you,” groaned Teresa as she slumped in her seat.
Carolina watched Teresa as they waited for Marta to finish the reservation. Every summer, Uncle Jorge sent money and every Summer, Carolina helped out at the Alpaca Ranch. A trip to Cusco didn’t seem like much to Carolina at all until she noticed Teresa’s disappointment. Suddenly, Carolina felt lucky to be the family adventurer.
“Here you go Carolina. One roundtrip ticket from Arequipa to Cusco,” said Marta.
“Can I see it?” asked Teresa.
“Be careful, it’s the only one we get,” said Mr. Vasquez.
Teresa opened the pouch and looked at the ticket inside. As they left the travel agency, she studied the ticket for a moment, then carefully tucked it into the envelope and sealed it shut.
“Where are we going now?” asked Carolina.
“Are you hungry?”
“A little,” she replied.
“I’m starving,” replied Teresa.
“Since you’re starving, I’ll give you the option. What do you want for lunch?”
“Tacquitos?”
“Then tacquitoes it is,” replied Mr. Vasquez. They walked across the square to a tiny restaurant. Mr. Vasquez ordered a plate of tacquitoes and a giant-sized lemonade. He then led the girls through the archway and into to the street.
“Where are we going now?” asked Teresa.
“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” said Mr. Vasquez.
“What did I say?” asked Teresa.
“About the plain white buildings.”
“Oh, that. Look around, all you see is white this and white that.”
They continued walking until they reached an intersection.
“How about this? asked Mr. Vasquez. A cathedral spire rose in front of them. Dark red spires rose from the center of the white church beneath them.
Plaza de Armas sat in front of the church. Large steel statues and a fountain sat in the middle of the plaza. Rising above it all were a half-dozen giant Palm trees. Their leafy heads waved in the wind.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Teresa.
Teresa’s head spun about as she tried taking it all in. The plaza was walled on all four sides with tall white buildings. Along one side, archways stacked one upon another, reaching several stories high. Along the opposite side, another building faced the Plaza. The Cathedral stood next to them and across the way, another plain white building. It’s magnificent white gargoyles brought a beaming smile to her face.
Now Carolina led the way into the Plaza. Benches sat in random places throughout the Plaza. Some were full and some were empty. Carolina chose one, then chose another that faced the Cathedral.
The threesome sat in front of the Cathedral, eating their tacquitos while they shared a lemonade.
In front of the Cathedral stood a flagpole, its Peruvian flag waving gently in the wind. Like the monastery, the flag was red and white. Teresa glanced over at Carolina’s ponytail.
“The red and white stripes in that flag remind me of the elastic band holding your ponytail.”
“Maybe that’s why it’s my favorite,” said Carolina.
Teresa smiled. “Maybe.”
“Unlike the white stones used to make many of the buildings, many of the bricks and paving stones are red.”
“Are the red stones made from lava?” asked Teresa.
“Lava is just hot volcanic stone that comes from deep inside the earth. Paving stones are made from clay, not stone.”
“I don’t understand why they use volcanic rocks instead of red clay. The clay is much prettier.”
“Three volcanoes watch over Peru: Chicani, Pichu Pichu, and El Misti. These great volcanic mountains produce enough Sillar to build every place we go, whether it’s a house, a store, or even a monastery like Santa Catalina.”
“But the walls inside the monastery are painted blue,” said Teresa.
“The blue paint accents the white stone, just like the red bricks accent the white of the Cathedral,” said Mr. Vasquez.
They sat in the Plaza for most of the afternoon as Condors flew overhead and hummingbirds whirred from flower to flower. Carolina looked at the stones in the buildings, then thought about the Volcanoes. She looked over her left shoulder. She could see El Misti, poking its volcanic head over the top of the white buildings of Arequipa. Just then, she reached up and grabbed her frog pendant and made a wish – a wish to go beyond El Misti.
“What are you thinking about?” asked Mr. Vasquez.
“Nothing,” she replied.
Mr. Vasquez nodded. He knew what his niece was thinking about. He knew it was time to give Uncle Jorge a phone call.
“Don’t think about nothing too long or you’re going to flatten your frog like a pancake.”
Carolina smiled and let go of the pendant. As the sun set on Arequipa, she got up and led the way back to her Uncle's truck. Carolina watched the pyramid shape of El Misti in the rearview mirror, hoping the golden frog would grant her wish - to travel beyond El Misti.