It had been five months since I said goodbye to the family and Mum had been extremely keen to send the troops out to make sure I was being fed properly, particularly after I'd already sent clothes home some months back having lost a few pounds. As I stood waiting for the first troops to arrive at Cusco airport I was naturally looking forward to seeing them, but more importantly, how much tea and chocolate and they'd brought out. When finally they'd finished faffing inside the arrivals hall, they emerged, both with super short haircuts identical to my own, my only saving grace was that I had 5 months of tropical tan to tell me apart from the two pastie Smiths. I could clearly see what I'd be looking like in 5 and 30 years time, but as my brother inspected my scalp, he reminded me that I wasn't far behind.
The three reunited "baldys" hit Cusco and settled into accommodation far exceeding any luxury I'd previously experienced. After handing over the goods (two giant bars of Cadbury's best, two packets of breakfast tea and two moleskin diaries) we headed out into Cusco to be fed. Cusco is head and shoulders above the rest of the country when it comes to tourism and given they have one of the new wonders of the world in their back yard, it's not surprising. I think there are more restaurants here than there are people in central Cusco and more touts here than in Leicester Square, although nowhere in London does anybody ask if you want a massage or your photo taken with a baby sheep. Clearly there are some parts of Soho that I need to spend more time in...
After a much needed catch up and thorough feeding at a place overlooking the "Plaza De Armas", I'd had a chance to demo my Spanish and after 5 months in the Americas I thankfully impressed both Dad and Nick, and much to Nick's relief as in their last few days in Lima, Dad had apparently kept speaking Italian, instead of Spanish. I put this down to getting used to the altitude, although Nick was quick to point out he'd been speaking French as well. Over the next few days we saw the various sights on offer around Cusco and acclimatised to the altitude which is around 3,400 m (11,200 feet) in the world's highest Irish Bar.
The history of the Incas is hard to miss in Cusco, but here more than most places I'd been to before, could you get a real sense of how things used to be before the Spanish came to town. Like many places in the Americas, the Spaniards were brutal in their mission to conquer and nick as much shiny stuff from Cusco as they could, but within the many churches, the Spaniards' inability to stifle indigenous customs was easy to spot. In the Cathedral in particular, the need to convert the locals whilst keeping them happy meant a significant compromise between Incan and Catholic beliefs. With a different person/saint/God to pray to depending on what you wanted, what day of the week it was, whether you wanted a husband or to be rid of your wife, or possibly what colour socks you happen to be wearing, the blend of beliefs was quite considerable, and far from what I thought Catholicism was all about. The price of the Spaniards occupation of the area was however far higher than the impact of the belief system, and when the Incans brought knives to the Spaniards' gunfight, things were fairly one sided and many of the Incans were killed, and those that remained repressed.
Their legacy, however is not forgotten, and despite how touristy they maybe, the different Inca sites are something to behold and not to be missed. The only one I can remember the name of was Sacsaywaman (you pronounce it Sexy Woman, sort of...) and the scale of what they built truely humbles what you thought was possible without specialised tools. The cries of "aliens!" and other stupid conspiracy theroies from even stupider Americans is quite frustrating. Conspiracy seems an easier thing to say rather than admitting that a race that died hundreds of years ago was more intelligent, could build better and did it all without needing to go to Walmart.
The Incans deserve praise for their achievements, and we'd set out to achieve our own glory, but taking on the 4 day Inca Trail to Machu Pichu... We'd heard about the gruelling second day of walking to 13,800 feet and the evil third day of walking down hill that was nick-named the Gringo Killer for the state of people's knees after ward. We were also aware that we were walking the trail at a rather soggy time of year... things were against us, but the Smith's could not be deterred and set off regardless.
photos are unfortunately lacking at present as the my memory card wasn't working. Photos from my brother to be released with the next blog...which will be here soon...
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