To the navel of the Inca

A city masquerading as a friendly village. Cobbled streets, Inca walls, Spanish cathedrals, adobe walls, rugs, jerseys and hats in all the colours of the rainbow.

Five days here, perfect. Food from every corners of the Earth, three course meals for $US6 and hostals kitted-up solid to cater for the gringo onslaught.




We ate the best burger I've ever had, a burger the size of a head no less, oozing with the ripest avocado and multiple rashes of bacon, a perfect medium rare patty (burger for those in England) amongst brioche buns lathered in salsa. A Mango lassy a jewel in this lunch crown.

Vegetarian fare from Posada, a three course wonder from a small Peruvian place called Sumiq complete with free, sugar encrusted Pisco sour. Fresh juices every other hour and a meaningful bolognaise from our hostel Ecopackers.

I gush on food because we were looking for some variation post Bolivia's stock standard pizza and rice offerings. Cusco came up trumps.

The Inca walls were a cementless marvel with stones larger than humans, held in place by virtue of gravity and a 13.5 degree angle. Bumped into an Englishman who swore the oranged edges were evidence of lasers / alien help. He had his head screwed on for all other facets of conversation, why not this? The Inca were a marvel, it made us wonder. We spent another hour looking at the stones in a different light.

Party hostels were in abundance too. Loki, Wild Rover, Pariwana, the domain of the travelling teen and early twenty-somethings who shun the sites, down tequila and collect t-shirts for the memories. BIL (brother in law) finally convinced me to go out. I tidied up, donned the trusty denim shirt and chinos, did my hair for the first time in a few months and urged my creaking 32 year old body out. Pisco sours, silly portions of rum, a game of cards and we're off.

The rest is a blur, vague memories of dancing on a bar, a gaggle of Peruvians with braces, debating the finer points of the womens' vote with a chauvinistic local, more rum, a club appears, some house music...

...(cut to) apologising to the various members of our dorm room. Sorry for dropping a 2 litre water bottle on your face. Is your bunk at an angle because of me? Sorry a thousand times. Was that really me crying out for help because I couldn't find the door handle... why was I still up at 7am. The worst hangover of my life.

BIL wants to do it all over again. The exuberance of youth. Never drink at altitude, but definitely go to Cusco.

For more on where we stayed and what we did, check out our Cusco travel bites.