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You could say that we bottled it, went against the traveller's devil may care attitude by not going to Lake Titicaca where rumours were abound that the border was closed/the immigration office burned down by rioters protesting against mining and oil concessions. Our adoption of the straight bat British approach, calculated and without risk was not without consequences - a 36 hour bus journey via Chile to Cusco, the details of which i will not bore you with. Many of you who have sampled the delights of bus journeys on various continents will be all to familiar with the vendors who hop on at various stops, peddling various drinks and snacks. It was to our great surprise then when a man boarded clutching a portable dvd player and a collection of dvds divided into two sub-categories - those suitable for 2-3 year olds hoping to grasp the concept of the alphabet, and those of a more, ahem, 'adult nature'. A painful, 30 minute pitch which would have seen Duncan Bannatyne blow several blood vessels, saw our bus crawl round Arequipa's back streets and all for the sale of just one copy, of which category i could not determine, and finally we were on our way.
Cusco is by far the best city we have stayed in so far on our journey, combining Spanish and Inka heritage, it being the capital of the former's empire which, at it's height, stretched from Ecuador to Chile. At our time of arrival the city is gearing up for its annual Inti Raymi, (Festival of the Sun) which attracts thousands of visitors annually. Processions of local groups dance their way through the streets in vibrant attire and the whole place has a feel good factor surrounding it. Our first day was spent exploring the town from the Plaza de Armes to the Saqsayhuaman fort which looms on the cliffs. With an entrance fee of some 70 soles we opted to take the short diversion over to the statue of Christ the Redeemer, (what self-respecting South American city doesn't have one?) to admire the views from there. The next day we embarked on our much anticipated Inka Trail Trek, until disaster struck. After a morning of stomach discomfort, Danny's health took a major downturn with images of a graphic nature unsuitable for here. In scenes fit for any Spielberg war film he soldiered on for the first km before he succumbed to the advice of our tour guide and reluctantly ceded defeat. The problem - Salmonella, which Danny attributed to a rogue, late night burger joint he visited on the Argentine border as he waited for his bus. You will no doubt be pleased to hear he has made a full recovery and there was a moment of hilarity despite the suffering. Vendors, as afore mentioned, are absolutely relentless in pursuit of a sale in Peru. As he waited to be picked up, a lady with an array of bandanas began to harangue Danny just as his stomach took another turn. Once finished, he turned and fired off some choices words, asking whether she thought he was in any capacity to be purchasing headwear. With the briefest of pauses she quizically looked him up and down, and enquired 'Aqua?'. Touche.
With respect to Danny, who was understandably gutted to miss out on the trek, i'll try and keep the superlatives describing the Inka Trail to a minimum. It really is a must do, with a stunning array of scenery from the surrounding mountain-scapes and Inka ruins, as well as the trail itself which is a feat of engineering, at times carved into the side of the mountain with huge drops to Urubambu. Almost as incredible are the porters, who ascend and descend the trail as easily as Sunday runners on the track. Add into that huge packs with food, tents and gas cannisters and the feat is even more impressive. In 2004 a race was held along the 42km route, unsurprisingly it was won by a porter in 3h45m, even more impressive given the ascent over Dead Woman's Pass which at 4200m and takes most of the second day's walk to ascend. Machu Picchu itself on the final day is beyond description, it just has to be seen. Thankfully Danny had made enough of a recovery to make the day trip and was early enough, unlike myself, to attain one of 400 tickets to climb the infamous Wayna Picchu, the white rock behind the site. I opted for the lesser famed Mount Machu Picchu, far quieter and still offering breathtaking views, many of which adourn postcards. Should you miss out on a ticket, it's well worth the hour climb. By late afternoon the morning crowds have dwindled and you can absorb this truly magical site. My favourite stop thus far, and upon re-reading this paragraph i realise i have failed in the objective i set out at the start of it. Next stop, Nazca.
Nb. Song choice. Cheesy? Perhaps. Anthemic (if that's a word). Certainly.
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