Cusco, Inca Trail & Machu Picchu

It didn't take long before my observations of the Olympian levels of competition within the Cusco (or maybe Cuzco - I've never been sure) massage and shoe shine industries (shiny thongs anyone?) shattered my earlier assumption that it was the Iquitos trike-taxi industry alone that had a hoof-like grasp of the market concept of "supply and demand". I'm now fairly sure that a ridiculous oversupply of obscure commodities is endemic to Peruvian culture, someone certainly seems to be doing a roaring trade in Inca Kola tshirts (certainly more than the awful beverage itself). I also managed to learn a little about the mating habits of stray Peruvian canines while in Cusco as I'd inadvertently planned my trip to coincide with dog sex season. So, uh, yeah, dogs do it a lot. A lot. I'm pretty sure every time I left or entered the hostel, I was treated to the sight of the same old bastard mongrel pounding the same little white fluff-ball senseless while a group of beta males stood around hoping the old boy would keel over from over-exertion in the altitude. He looked like he had another couple of footy seasons left in him though... I digress, here's my diary:

I gave myself one full day in Cusco to acclimatise to the altitude (3,400m) - which I spent predominantly hungover, hence unable to perceive any symptoms of altitude sickness - before embarking on the classic Inca trail. Due to the trail's worldwide fame, I had incorrectly assumed that it would be a doddle, so didn't piss about with packing lightly. And so with the weight of both a 16kg backpack and the medical evidence against my success; I joined my group on the bus to Ollataytambo and the beginning of our trek.

As I'd booked through an agent of an agent of an agent back in Australia, I had absolutely no idea how the guide/group situation was working until halfway through day one. I was lucky enough to be thrown in with 4 other trekkers (2 frogs, 2 argies) who had 2 guides between them - often the ratio is more like 16:1 - so we were treated to plenty of explanations in Spanish (that I didn't understand) and then English (that I didn't understand either). I did manage to glean that there is a much easier way to get to Machu Picchu but it was reserved exclusively for Incan royalty, and much later, a train; and we were walking along but one of many peasant routes to the sacred city. After hiking up to Dead Woman's Pass (1,250m ascent to 4,215m in one morning), I'm quite convinced that the Windsors aren't really that bad at all compared to the Incan royal family. Utter bastards.

Unfortunately Machu Picchu was shrouded in mist for our dawn arrival at the sun gate, but when the mist cleared mid-morning, the classic view across the city to Huayna Picchu (the pointy hill) was every bit as stunning as I'd imagined. The other things that I was particularly taken with were: the masonry - freaking unbelievably perfect joints between huge stones; the hike up - and view from - Huayna Picchu; and seeing a llama scratch its head with its hind leg (who'd a thunk it?).

I had only planned to spend maybe a day or two back in Cusco before moving on to La Paz for some death road mountain biking action; but what with the weekend looming, it only made sense to stay for that. This happened twice (though to be fair, the first time I'd planned to go to La Paz, the roads were blockaded). The hostel where I stayed - Loki - also played a big part in my reluctance to journey on, they had it really figured out for backpackers: breakfast served until 1pm; it's easier to stay in bed watching Family Guy and then stay another night, than check out (no booking - you keep your bed!); hammocks in the sun; and freely flowing Sprite. There was also a great crew of fellow travellers there who'd I'd like to thank for providing the compelling but generally poorly structured arguments to stick around ("con gas?", "bungee jumping is fun", "don't be gay, have a beer" etc.) : Alex, Luke, Kim, the clogs, Hayley, Kyla, Charlie, Clarissa, James, Dylan and Jack - I (who is (am?...) about to die) salute you.

When I actually made it out of the hostel, I found that there were quite a few cultural things to do and see in Cusco - I did none of these - opting instead for: sitting in a cafe in my pea green undies with Alex and Luke while my jeans were being mended; loading up on coffee and English breakfasts at Jack's; sing-alongs and pisco shots at km.0 (an excellent little bar); salivating in front of the cow snouts and llama heads at the markets; dangling from a ceiling in a balaclava and bopping around Mama Afrikas in ill-fitting trackpants. If it weren't for the traditional Incan bungee jumping and white-water rafting trips, you could almost say I fell into the gringo trap.

I was quite saddened when it was time to leave Cusco, but I had some unsuspecting travel buddies in Clarissa and Charlie who had flights to catch from Las Pazes to Mexico City; so we picked the closest one and headed that-a-way!