October 4, 2012, Peru. Arequipa is known as the White City for its beautiful colonial architecture built from sillar, a pale volcanic stone that gives the town its signature glow. The city’s historic center is full of elegant buildings, with grand arcades surrounding the main plaza and an imposing cathedral that rivals St. Mark’s in the Vatican. I felt immediately at ease here. The Peruvians I met were incredibly warm and helpful.

After a sleepless night at a highly recommended hostel—completely overrun with travelers—I found a place where I could get a private room for less. Unfortunately, it turned out to be infested with bedbugs and filled with guests partying until 4 a.m., loud music blaring through the walls. I moved again, finally landing in a quieter place and getting some real rest before my flight to Bogotá, Colombia.

Arequipa was a joy to walk through. Its winding streets, charming passageways, old convents, and the stately central plaza made it the most beautiful city I’d seen yet in South America. At the time, it felt more like a small town—probably with a population around 100,000—and had a peaceful charm that was easy to love.

Still, finding a quiet place to sleep was a challenge. After one noisy hostel, I relocated to another only to find it filled with a group of Argentine students grilling meat on the parrilla and drinking until the early morning hours. I finally splurged on a private hotel room just a few blocks away, only to be greeted—again—by bedbugs.

From there, I caught a flight to Bogotá. I arrived at 1 a.m. and got a taxi to a hostel. The driver asked if they were expecting me, which made me wonder if it was a questionable part of town. The first night wasn’t great, and I decided to move the next day to the Musicology Hostel, which turned out to be a much better choice. Some genuinely kind people were working there, and I felt more at ease.