Now Where Was I?

When I left off last, I think I was recovering from a night out in Cusco. The day after recovering from that night out, I decided to sign up for a couple of tours in order to say I did something productive in Cusco.

After an early breakfast at the party hostal, I went to the tour office they had on site to see what was offered. I wanted to see the Sacred Valley (several Inca ruins sites) and so I signed up for that tour for Sunday, the day before the Inca trail to Machu Picchu. Figured it would get me ready for the the big site. As the guy at the tour desk was filling out the paper work for that tour, I noticed another tour that took people around the city. There was one leaving that day at 1:30pm. Sounded like a good way to get an overview of what was around me, so I signed up for that as well. The guy told me to head to the main tour agency office in town and a bus would pick me up just before 1:30.

I walked into town and did a little site-seeing on my own, still feeling guilty for wasting the day before. Around noon I stopped at a restaurant hoping to get some of the chicken I swore I heard Peru was famous for. I got chicken, but it wasn`t worthy of being famous.

Just before 1:30 I walked over to the tour agency. It was closed for the afternoon siesta. Not knowing exactly how to pick up my tour, I just sat on the front steps in hopes the bus would pull up. 10 minutes later it did.

Turned out not to be so much a tour of the city, as a tour of some of the oldest parts of the Cusco area. Our first stop was the Inca Temple of the Sun. Or what was left of it. The Spanished destroyed it and a new religious building was placed on top of the foundation. Most of the tour centered around what was left of that foundatation. The place was mobbed with tourists that all seemed to have arrived with a tour group. We had to wait in line to see everything. And the local venders were well aware of the tourist haven possibilities. Local vendors were everywhere, selling everything. You could even get your pic with little indigenous kids in costumes, holding little lambs. The whole thing didn`t end quickly enough.

Next we moved on to the large church in the city`s center plaza. The highlight of this tour was being told it was the third largest church in the Americas. Not sure if that is true. But the church also held a crucified Jesus that was apparently brought out years ago when Cusco was suffering continuous earthquakes. The crucifix was paraded out in the main square to much fan fare and the earthquakes ceased. Now the "Earthquake Jesus" has a special place in the church. Sorry, no photography was allowed.

Next it was time to tour the nearby Inca sites. The first, pronounced sexy woman, was interesting and I think everyone dug being able to walk around it and see the views of Cusco just below (see discriptions of the sites on my picutre site). Also, taking pics with some costumed indigenous women and their llamas was a highlight. But this was also about the point that I had time to start chatting up other people on my tour. There were two gals from the States: one from Chicago and the other from DC. We got to talking and I discovered the one worked at the Newseum. Then I met two girls from Hong Kong; both had gone to school in L.A. And finally I met a guy from L.A. and another from Brazil.

Since the next two sites weren`t nearly as interesting and we were all seeming to suffer the effects of the altitude, conversing really took off (as the sites were seemingly ignored). Even more so when we were dropped off at a souvenir shop (not on the agenda, but always expected - guide`s gotta make a commision somehow).

As the bus brought us back to Cusco, talk moved to what to do that night. I hadn`t showered all day and was eager to get back to the hostal to at least drop off my backpack (which carried all the things suggested may be needed - but weren`t). But people were hungry now and didn`t want to wait for the one guy who was staying way back up on the hill. So I offered to do dinner and then bid an early good-night. The guy from L.A. and the other from Brazil had discovered a great restaurant the previous night and were eager to go back. We all followed them as they led us down street after street, at times the same streets multiple times. After killing 40 minutes and not finding the restaurant (they said the streets looked different at night), we decided to just follow one of the many guys selling various menus on the street. The restaurant was empty. But they had alpaca (like llama) and coca tea on the menu and I had tried neither to this point. And so I ordered both. Coca tea is suggested to alliviate the effects of altitude (yes, it´s the same plant cocaine comes from). And alpaca, well, it doesn`t do anything for you. But it tastes good and is supposidly low in cholesterol. I enjoyed both. And felt healthier for eating both.

Afterwards, everyone was ready to call it a night. But suddenly I wanted a beer. It might have had something to do with wanting to avoid the huge party that was going on at my hostal that night. Either way, the guy from L.A. was up for a drink too. And so he and I (still unbathed and carrying my bookbag) headed to Norton Rat`s; a dive bar on the plaza. The place was pretty busy. Apparently that day was their 10th anniversary and they were giving out prizes. The prizes turned out to be little trinkets the bar had received for free from their alcohol vendors, but it kept the crowd entertained. And it kept the bar fly busy calling out numbers and handing out prizes instead of making an ass of himself in other ways. I got a key chain from some English brewery. It disappeared a short time later.

As the night went on, and the fourth pint of the strongest English ale I have ever downed was poured, I realized heading back for a shower was not in my immediate future. The guy from L.A. and I had challenged two British blokes to billiards and were losing horribly. But it opened up conversation. By 1am I found myself sitting at the bar discussing how the British elite military was still a force to be reckoned with and how the naval incident with Iran earlier this year was not a custard pie in the face of a once mighty lion. I said it was. The older Brit agreed. The younger Brit, with "State of Love & Trust" tattooed across his chest (he liked Pearl Jam a little too much), disagreed. I changed the subject to music to keep things civil. I few positive comments about Pearl Jam kept people smiling.

Two hours later I was back in the same dance club I had spent an entire night in two days previous. Drinks were poured and consumed regularly. The dance floor was spared my moves this time. But the bartender and two Dutch guys were not spared my thoughts on American pop culture. Fortunately they had equally negative thoughts and that kept this discussion civil as well. Finally, I decided I had had enough and it was time to get home and sleep before my Sacred Valley tour at 8:30am. I headed for the door and when I opened it I found a bright, sunny morning. My watch read 7:30am. There is something about Cusco and staying out way too late. I think it`s the altitude.

I stumbled to the stairs just around the block from the club, right on the main plaza. The plaza was full of people setting up something big; maybe a morning festival. I had no idea. I sat down for a bit to investigate. And to stop the plaza from spinning. And suddenly I was being serenaded by a vagabond from Argentina with an old guitar. Ahhhh Cusco. I gave him a few Soles and found a taxi to take me to my hostal. At 8am I passed out in my bed, clothes, shoes and all. At 1:30 in the afternoon I woke up to realize I had missed my Sacred Valley tour.

Something about the altitude in Cusco really knocks me out. The Sacred Valley would have to wait until after Machu Picchu.