The first part of the journey to Arequipa is through a succession of sand dunes, desolate and bare, stretching away into the distance on all sides. These dunes, crescent-shaped, are in a state of slow motion, moving in the direction of their horns at the rate of about 100 feet in the course of a year, so that they could give a glacier a few thousand years’ start in a race. Towards Arequipa, which is approached through fertile and cultivated land upon which maize and sugar-cane grow, cattle graze, or, driven by natives, tread out the corn. The city is about 122 kilometres from the coast, and lies in a beautiful valley, green and luscious. The elevation of the city at 7600 feet ensures a cooler clime than that left behind in the baked and roasted coast. Away in the distance the great snow-clad mountain peaks of Misti, Pichupichu, and Charehani tower into the blue vault above. The city in the valley is built largely of the brown lava thrown up by a volcano in the vicinity. With an almost cynical indifference to the terrible forces of nature, the builders of the city have utilised the product of the volcano to protect themselves from the devastating earthquakes to which the whole Pacific slope of the Cordillera is subject. The architecture of Arequipa and Cuzco differs in many respects from that of Lima, for in both the former cities there are many traces of the strong influences that the indigenous art of the country had upon that of the conquerors. The heavy carvings on the façades and doorways of the many churches and convents in Arequipa betray the influence more than the general design, and many ornamental forms are introduced that belong entirely to the New World. The railway from Arequipa crosses the Cordillera at the altitude of 14,600 feet above the sea, and from the Crucero Alto descends through rich pasture lands upon which great flocks of llamas, sheep, alpacas, and the wild vicuna graze.