Flying from Los Angeles to Lima was an 8-hour journey on a great plane – loads of legroom, plenty of great movies with personal screen in economy class. I guess we will get to appreciate such things as time goes on.
One odd moment was when we realised we should have got money before going through security. Nicki went back through the exit and I sat at the gate hoping for no problems for her to exit, get the cash and go back through security. It was the first time we have been really separated for the last 3 weeks.
We arrived in Lima and went to the Airport hotel on clear roads. The following morning we returned for the flight to Cuzco in full roads – absolute chaos! No concept of “lanes”, every bit of traffic battled with everyone. And that's just at the airport...
Our first impressions of Cuzco on landing are like this. High altitude – short breath all the time (Lima was at sea level, Cuzco is 3300m above sea level!). Chaos – roads are a mess and clearly not made for cars, too narrow for a car and a person to walk down, maybe designed for people and Horse/carts? Cheap – we paid a max of $2.75 for a bottle of water in S.F., here it's 30c, and a full dinner is 15 euros, it was at least 40 in S.F.
It's also a beautiful, fantastic place, a city of 300,000 people based in
a valley surrounded by mountains. The buildings are so old and full of character, relatively unspoilt, I have never been to a place like it. You see a number of sun-hardened, small Inca people offering various crafts and self-made goods, clearly having walked from the hills down to the city to make some money. The gap between the westerners and their lifestyle, and the original people of the area is incredible and a little disturbing.In the city centre, every 50 metres you are offered “massage” (“are there so many people with tired limbs”, I naively ask myself...) and goods and tours are pushed on every corner. It is a pity because it is bothersome, but then, tourism is why we are here, and why shouldn't the locals get the most out of it?
We have tried to find small places with some locals to have dinner, and have found our small smattering of Spanish to be a big help in the little terracotta-walled “restaurants” a few steps down off the little side streets that we have eaten in. Cheap and well prepared food, friendly smiling service and cosy atmosphere is at a big contrast with the bigger places near the main square, with prices the same as in Europe and restaurant design to make you feel you could be anywhere.
We started our Spanish classes on Wednesday, in San Blas Spanish School. It is an experience to go to a school with cold, tiny little classrooms and creaking doors, a building site at the back and no real facilities, plus a non-flushing toilet with a vat of water and a bucket to compensate. I can remember some people at my last job complaining about work environment – I hope I remember how these teachers are working wherever I work in the future. And of course, this is the relatively rich side of education, classes paid for by foreigners. What on earth would state-run schools be like?
Small insights into the life here – like walls made of plaster covering earth-bricks, with strands of grass poking out – make you realise that life is simply hard work for the locals here.
We are incredibly privileged to be able to come here as a tourist for pure enjoyment. It's a fascinating place.
