Sad, but not tragic. A forced opportunity. Maybe even a fortunate adaptation…fuck it. Let's make taco salad.

Cusco II

We were all looking forward to returning to Cusco, and not just because of the nasty ride back from Aguas Calientes.  There’s always something happening here.  We scored a great hotel right off the main square (Plaza de Armas – I think every city on this continent has a Plaza de Armas…will keep you posted) that gave us easy access to everything we needed.  The only real annoyance is the endless pandering from the street vendors trying to sell you paintings, bracelets, sweaters, massages, and tour packages.  My favorite part is when you tell them “no gracias,” they always reply with, “Maybe later?”  All you can do is smile and say, “Yes.  Maybe later.”  I’m now trying to work that phrase into as many of my Cusco conversations as possible…always good for a laugh.

The dynamics of having the parents on board as well as The Sister make things quite interesting.  On the one hand, we have seen amazing things together and built plenty of the “memories that last a lifetime.”  On the other hand, there is absolutely no escape and we have to live with each others’ faults a little more than any of us would like.  It’s also quite difficult to find time to write (or just think, for god’s sake) and I’m running quite behind in my postings.  The Great American Novel has received absolutely zero attention to-date.

Nevertheless, we got in some sightseeing, museums, Inca ruins, and rubble research before we had to get on the bus again for Puno.









Some Important Notes:

  1. The constellation that I have been referring to as “The Great Hockey Stick in the Sky” for a month now is apparently the Southern Cross.  I’ll be damned.
  2. I am really fucking tired of hearing “El Condor Pasa.”  Every asshole in this country with a flute knows that song, and that song alone.  Kind of like “Stairway to Heaven” for guitar guy at home.
  3. All the lasagna here tastes strangely like Chef Boyardee, which makes for equal parts comfort and horror.
  4. Because it’s what Dick Cheney would do, I am going to be adding a “Rubble Alert Level” to each location I visit since I am now convinced this is an entire continent of rubble.  Cusco rates a Yellow – proceed with caution.  The little rubble we have seen in the central city is used and cleaned up in a day or two.  Nice!  (In contrast, Pisco rated a Rubble Alert Level: Magma – evacuate immediately.)



Another interesting observation is that all of the travelers we meet ask about our travels.  Except for the ones from the US.  They almost always ask “What do you do?”  (My new standard response is, “I take photos.  Of me.  Pointing at stuff.”)


Those readers familiar with The Korea will be happy to know that the official taxi of Peru is the Daewoo Tico.  It’s pretty fun jamming the four of us into one of those and then bouncing down the cobblestone streets.



We had a great time in both of our stops in Cusco and I think we all would have liked to stay longer.  But for me, with equal parts fear and joy, I can’t help but look ahead to the day when I will be alone on this journey.  On the one hand, I have been so fortunate to have my family to help me make this transition.  But I am also desperate for solitude, for time to reflect.  But no time for that mushy crap now… we have to pack up and head south to the “highest navigable lake in the world.”







One Response to “Cusco II”

  1. kevinpdx says:

    "I take pictures of me pointing at stuff." I love it. I am surprised by the lack of Jesus pictures.

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