The Shabby Corner Hotel

 Working on my South America manuscript, I found myself editing it in sections for blog posts like I did for the A to Z Challenge. Well, why not go with it? So, this continues my South America stories where they ended on April 30.  

They'll show up now and then rather than daily like in April. As before, my intent is to make each one complete in itself whether read from the beginning post or coming to it for the first time. This manuscript has yet to have a title or an ending. But you'll find a story woven through these experiences of my son Forrest and me during our three months in Chile and Peru. I hope you enjoy it.

A couple days before we left Estancia 107, I finally satisfied my curiosity about a nearby building on the corner. It looked like a large three-story house, gated with a small front garden. When I asked the hotel clerk at Estancia about it, she said it’s called Runcu. They allowed long-term guests for about 700 soles a month, the clerk said. That was only $200 a month!

Walking past a few days later, I saw a lady outside doing a bit of gardening. I greeted her and asked if she owned the building. A nicely dressed middle-aged woman who cares about the property and decides to pull a few random weeds. In other words, the owner.

When she responded in the affirmative, I asked if I could see a room. “I’m staying at Estancia 107 now, but I’d like to return to Arequipa next year for a few months,” I explained. 

I found her friendly and easy to talk to and we hit it off right away. She said, “We mostly rent to professional people who need to stay in the city for awhile.” 

“That’s perfect for me,” I replied, “because I want to enroll at the Spanish school and study.” 

She took me around to see the available rooms. They looked shabby but comfortable, what one might call “shabby chic.” Except that shabby was no longer chic, especially not in a hotel. Still, it was clean and quiet, obviously well-cared for by this pleasant lady and, at $200 a month, the price was right. 

“We are putting in a kitchen with laundry for guests as part of our remodel,” she said. “It should be ready next year when you want to come back.” 

I thanked her for the tour and asked how to contact her; she wrote down the hotel Facebook page and said to private message her.  When I returned to Arequipa, I wanted to stay at this charming but shabby big house. I knew from our conversation that any guests had to first meet with her approval. “Mostly professionals,” said it all. This was no hostel for backpacking millennials. 

It was August, 2019. I decided right then to come back in 2020 and study Spanish in Arequipa, lodging at the Runcu. I saw myself curled up in one of those big comfy armchairs in the bedrooms—I would want a room on the second or third floor—working on a book, like Hemingway during his expat days in Paris. 

Such were my dreams for 2020, a magical number that would surely bring magical events. I had big plans for 2020.