I found myself entertaining the semi-mystical idea that we had removed Asher's body from Peru, but we hadn't freed his soul - not a manner of thinking with which I feel at all comfortable.
We walked a few blocks down the sunny street from our hotel to the Plaza de Armas, the central square, with the cathedral or large church, that lies at the center of every town in Peru. I still wasn't feeling the altitude, though Arequipa is nearly 2,400 meters above sea level. We turned into a little alley with half a dozen restaurants on it, and I got so annoyed at the hawkers outside them, who wouldn't stop waving menus in my face, that I refused to go into any of them. We went on to the main square, only to be assailed by another flock of menu wavers, but we had to eat somewhere, so we had lunch on a balcony overlooking the Plaza de Armas. The food was good, and the view of the plaza was worth the extra price of eating in a tourist restaurant.
I was far from used to being in Peru.
We spent the afternoon exploring Arequipa, so by the end of the day I was feeling more at home there. Ofer led us to the city's main covered market, which covers a large city block, not too far from the central square. The last photographs that Asher sent us by email, including the last picture that we have of him were taken in that market.
Naturally, when we got to the market and saw what Asher had photographed, we were overcome by deep sadness. That was one of the hardest moments of our trip, but, as with many other of the hard moments, it was mingled with the bustle and excitement of the market, with the attraction of the very things that had caught Asher's eye.
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