Lima, Cuzco and Sexy Women

Update: 13

It seems the Spanish have a sense of humour. I learned today that the word for "handcuffs" is "esposas".

I learned about two months ago, in my beginners' class, that the word for "wife" is "esposa". No way is that a coincidence, somebody thought about it.

***

Lima gets plenty of bad press on the Gringo Trail. It has a reputation for being dangerous, polluted and blanketed in fog during the winter months. We were only there for a day, so it's not fair of me to comment on it. What I can say is that I'm glad I don't live there. The fog/smog covering it makes the whole place seem grey. The waterfront at Miraflores is impressive, though. The suburb stops on the edge of a cliff and then drops, what looks like about a hundred and fifty metres, to the shore. Our day was spent trying to breath and posting excess baggage home. We had a look around a large traditional market but didn't succumb to sales talk about the elegance of luminous Alpaca hats and coats so techni-coloured, they'd make Joseph cringe.

***

The difference between an hour flight and 30 hours on a bus to Cuzco is fairly obvious, so we did what all sensible backpackers would do, and flew. This was the first time we really appreciated the magnificence of the Andes. Our exposure to them on land in Ecuador paled in comparison to their appearance from the air. Towering above Lima's fog, they make you wonder what the first bus driver was smoking when he took on the challenge of getting to Inca-country by land.

Cuzco is really beautiful and has a pleasant, relaxed vibe. It's a pleasure to walk around a city without feeling like you're next in line for a mugging. We're still on guard, but the baptism of fire that was Quito makes us feel at ease here.

My first impression of Cuzco was that it is incredibly progressive for a city in a Catholic country. There were rainbow flags (this means the establishment flying it is "Gay Friendly", mum) everywhere. We both noticed that every hostel and bar flew these and wondered whether we'd arrived in the middle of a Mardis Gras or something. Hostels and bars are one thing and, having lived in Europe, not surprising at all, but no matter how open-minded you consider yourself, nothing can prepare you for the sight of government buildings outing themselves. It was only when our taxi driver explained that this was in fact the Cuzco flag and any resemblance to any other flag was a coincidence that I felt relief. I'd started to panic about doing the Inca trail in boots that clashed with my backpack.

If we'd needed any corroboration of the taxi driver's statement, it came quickly when we were shown our hotel room. Those curtains were awful.

Due to a logistical error on our part, we never found the hostel we were looking for and ended up staying at the hotel of a friend of the cabbie, breaking the third rule of travel: Never take objective advice from a taxi driver. It's never objective - in England this is obvious, they read the Daily Mail.

Our hotel was cheap, and - how you say? - crap. It was located in an industrial estate about a twenty minute walk from the centre. There was a hole in the roof above the shower, it seemed to lose heat to the outside which was itself freezing, it had no windows and dust that was reverting back to rock. It took us two days before we admitted defeat and left for a cosier place in the centre of the old town. We're now in an old Spanish house with basic but warmer - notice I didn't say "warm" - rooms around a suntrap courtyard. It's on-suite and has that nerve-wracking bathroom accessory: an electric shower. Not in the sense that there's an insulated box with a knob to adjust the temperature, but rather two wires plugged into the wall heating an element that is in the showerhead. 

It's easy to see how one can get trapped in Cuzco. It has a relaxed feel and, while obviously packed with tourists (being the gateway town to Mach Picchu), it doesn't feel as if you're being ripped off. Everything, while more expensive than other out of the way towns we've been to, is still affordable. Considering this is a captive market, I'm amazed they don't fleece tourists more. The only evidence of a rip-off is the train to Aguas Calientes (the access point to the ruins) which, until recently, was owned by Peruvians and an economical option. It's now (apparently) owned by a British company and they've hiked the prices to British levels. Annoying, as these new prices only apply to foreigners - which seems a little prejudiced - and if you aren't trekking to Machu Picchu, the train is the only mode of transport. Still, what do you expect from a British rail company? It won't be long before they start hosting regular delays due to leaves on the tracks, posting high school dropouts in trench coats at the concourse barriers eager to prosecute you for having the wrong ticket and selling overpriced coffee and stale croissants from stupid trolleys that get in the way when you need to get off. I haven't even started to think about what will happen to the tourist industry when the mandatory peakseason strike action starts.

There are some great bars and restaurants around town too.  Nearing the climax of the Football World Cup, this is important. We were keen to watch the England - Portugal game in a local haunt but found ourselves in "Rosie o' Grady's" surrounded by the cream of the Rooney support club. Needless to say, we were happy to move on to another local nearby: "Paddy Flaherty's".

What is it with the Irish and bars? There are only, what, four million people in Ireland and there are about 500 million Irish bars all over the world. Don't, say, the Welsh, drink? That said, the hearty food was well worth it.

For the Brazil - France game, we thought we'd try a genuine local boozer and found ourselves out of the main area in a tiny shop with a 30 inch TV, a counter, a wall of shelves displaying products ranging from tomato sauce to dog food, a shop-keeper doing his ironing on a stack of boxes with his back to the screen and his two sons. Excluding Tam's and mine, there were seven teeth in the room. The beer was cheap.

***

Around Cuzco are numerous easily accessible ruins with names worth noting: Tambomachay, Pukapukara, Q'enqo and everyone's favourite: Saqsaywaman. (If you don't get it, say it out loud to yourself a few times). Saq - say - wa - man. We visited all of them today and were quite proud of our effort in walking the 8kms back to town. Starting at 3,700m, that's not as easy as you'd expect.

On Tuesday we're leaving for a five-day-four-night trek (guess who's idea this was) to the site of Choqueqhirau. Recently discovered ruins that are a supposed match for the enigmatic Machu Picchu itself. I've asked and the tour company refuses to provide hammocks. I'll let you know how it goes.

Until then, take it easy and, if you're an England supporter, don't worry, you have the Ashes to look forward to...