In Cusco airport there are signs stating that due to the extraordinary meteorological conditions pertaining to Cusco and the air above the city, flights may be postponed or cancelled with short notice. Once you have stood next to the ruins of Saqsawayman or on any of the other hills surrounding the hub of the Incas, you see how these conditions could be shaped. The valley almost looks like I imagine an old volcano crater does. And on 3000 m or so above the sea, one can only imagine the whirlwinds and strange sudden drops of pressure...
Our arrival in Cusco in the afternoon of the 24th of December started with the woman at the information desk misinterpreting Michael’s desired price range of “25” as USD, very likely on purpose. After all, why would you stand behind a counter at the airport wearing a dress suit if you were working for businesses that charge as little as 9USD per night? When corrected, she told the blatant lie that those hostels were all booked up. During Cusco’s “low season”? We decided not to be discouraged, picked up the suitcase and then encountered the taxi drivers, who claimed that 15 soles was a fair price, why, almost giving the trip to downtown Cusco away. Moreover, they were in on the hostel hustle too (on the take, so to speak). We stepped 20 metres outside the airport and got a friendly old man who agreed to take us into town for 8 soles, AND take us to some hostels within our price range while sharing our indignation at the hotel mafia.
On the way, we got some nice tourist information about the local cuisine and the trains to Machu Picchu. Then we were invited to inspect three hostels, or rather, Michael and the taxi driver went inside, Michael to check the rooms were ok, the driver to make sure the price didn’t mysteriously deviate from what he had told us. I was left in the taxi with the suitcase, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Blond hair, too, has a way of haussing the value of mere twin bed rooms with cable TV and a skanky shower heater to a comfortable suite for two with hot water and all facilities.
We picked a hostel in that street, the taxi driver performed a little sale speech about the personal trips that he could offer to the surrounding villages, gave us his business card and left. We entered the hostel, which we soon discovered was a family business, as many others, with some member of the family always hanging about downstairs in the lounge/living room together with two dogs looking like boxers who loved being scratched and cuddled with. Of course I obliged.
After unpacking and cross-examining the elder members of the family about Cusco, markets, restaurants, Christmas celebrations, Machu Picchu, the villages and lots of other things, we went for a stroll up the Avenida del Sol, the main avenue, which was handily just around the corner.
Cusco was not what I had expected. I think I must still have had the images from Che's visit in the “Motorcycle Diaries” in my mind, and yes, that was a while ago...There are many beautiful Spanish buildings, at the cost of the Inka ruins looming above – the latter were, until the middle of the 20th century, the official city quarry.
A lot of people had come in from the countryside for Christmas, and as we entered the main square, the Plaza de Armas, the first simultaneous impressions were unfortunately
1) a lot of poor and dirty villagers huddling and begging along the stone walls of the cathedral and 2) the stench from the rent-a-loos (leaking) placed nearby. However, we moved on into the crowded market, and I was surprised at how much of the market was taken up by manger decoration materials – big armfuls of tall grass, moss, wood, paper painted in different dark green shades and many, many figures of all sizes and types. Of course, the manger in Cusco includes llamas or alpacas, but also a multitude of creatures that I would not necessarily associate with either Bethlehem or Cusco.
Our arrival in Cusco in the afternoon of the 24th of December started with the woman at the information desk misinterpreting Michael’s desired price range of “25” as USD, very likely on purpose. After all, why would you stand behind a counter at the airport wearing a dress suit if you were working for businesses that charge as little as 9USD per night? When corrected, she told the blatant lie that those hostels were all booked up. During Cusco’s “low season”? We decided not to be discouraged, picked up the suitcase and then encountered the taxi drivers, who claimed that 15 soles was a fair price, why, almost giving the trip to downtown Cusco away. Moreover, they were in on the hostel hustle too (on the take, so to speak). We stepped 20 metres outside the airport and got a friendly old man who agreed to take us into town for 8 soles, AND take us to some hostels within our price range while sharing our indignation at the hotel mafia.
On the way, we got some nice tourist information about the local cuisine and the trains to Machu Picchu. Then we were invited to inspect three hostels, or rather, Michael and the taxi driver went inside, Michael to check the rooms were ok, the driver to make sure the price didn’t mysteriously deviate from what he had told us. I was left in the taxi with the suitcase, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible. Blond hair, too, has a way of haussing the value of mere twin bed rooms with cable TV and a skanky shower heater to a comfortable suite for two with hot water and all facilities.
We picked a hostel in that street, the taxi driver performed a little sale speech about the personal trips that he could offer to the surrounding villages, gave us his business card and left. We entered the hostel, which we soon discovered was a family business, as many others, with some member of the family always hanging about downstairs in the lounge/living room together with two dogs looking like boxers who loved being scratched and cuddled with. Of course I obliged.
After unpacking and cross-examining the elder members of the family about Cusco, markets, restaurants, Christmas celebrations, Machu Picchu, the villages and lots of other things, we went for a stroll up the Avenida del Sol, the main avenue, which was handily just around the corner.
Cusco was not what I had expected. I think I must still have had the images from Che's visit in the “Motorcycle Diaries” in my mind, and yes, that was a while ago...There are many beautiful Spanish buildings, at the cost of the Inka ruins looming above – the latter were, until the middle of the 20th century, the official city quarry.
A lot of people had come in from the countryside for Christmas, and as we entered the main square, the Plaza de Armas, the first simultaneous impressions were unfortunately
1) a lot of poor and dirty villagers huddling and begging along the stone walls of the cathedral and 2) the stench from the rent-a-loos (leaking) placed nearby. However, we moved on into the crowded market, and I was surprised at how much of the market was taken up by manger decoration materials – big armfuls of tall grass, moss, wood, paper painted in different dark green shades and many, many figures of all sizes and types. Of course, the manger in Cusco includes llamas or alpacas, but also a multitude of creatures that I would not necessarily associate with either Bethlehem or Cusco.
We entered some sort of religious large hall where the competitors and winners of “best manger” were being exhibited, along with some finer crafts, such as very elaborate chess boards with inkas and llamas versus the Spanish conquistadores and the more expensive puzzle versions of the most famous wall in Cusco with the stone with umpteen angles. It immediately made me think of the ceramic Nessie...different culture, same idea.
