Once the epicenter of the empire's four surrounding regions, Cusco was the navel of the four parts corresponding cultures and it's capital of religion and power. Cusco, or Cosqo, should always be written with an "S" as this word rightly means navel in Quechua. Many of the Andean residents still speak this ancient language of the Incans instead of, or along with Spanish.
We settled in nicely to the Canadian-run hostel Southern Comfort, where hot pancakes were flipped onto our plates every morning. Cusco was sunny every day and we really enjoyed our stay with a view over the imperial city.
On our first walk around town we were astonished by the sheer scenic and historic majesty. We ducked through the thousand-year old streets that remain in the network that has never changed since the Incas designed this city in the shape of a Puma.
The cathedral and main square almost breathed a little bit of the same eerie historic atmosphere as Prague at night. Our first visits were to the Inca museum and Koricancha - the temple of the sun. This holy Incan temple was once was the center of the central naval. It's walls were even capped in gold. When the Spanish came they predictably needed to destroy it right away and built a church right on top of it so now the lower foundation is still Incan and the upper part Spanish.
Our second day around town was a little odd. It happened to be a strike day (I think against regional petrol prices). Any cars, buses or other vehicles who decided to drive the streets were met with rocks hurled at their windows. We had read about the occasional unrest in Peruvian towns but never really believe it could happen in such a peaceful culture on the streets. That image was quickly broken when we saw 10 year old kids hurl bricks at a taxi window while everyone in the street yelled their opinion for or against this manifestation. When we later left town a few days later for the Incan sites I thought their was an awful lot of fallen rubble from the cliffs in the way. I later realized these were improvised roadblocks when some were topped with cactus for makeshift barbed wire.
Three women and a giant outside Korikancha church/temple.
That day was an exception. We were otherwise astounded by how at home Southern Comfort made us feel and how much there was to see in and around this city. Thanks to the friendly hospitality of Staph, notably will the manager, Steph and I had many perfect days from here. We made use of the baker on the corner and the supermarket to cook in a few nights. I even found a local brulerie that ground and roasted fresh organic coffee beans at Cafe Perla. We later were advised by a restaurant owner to find Qori Sara, a local restaurant with a menu for 12 soles that seemed to be the most popular lunch hour in town. Three hearty courses and a chicha down the hatch, we would often hit the Mercado Central. This place had everything from piles of meats and veg to about 101 identical fresh juice stands. Try the Jugo Especial if you dare.
One night we even braved the Molino Market - home to the best fake DVDs this side of Asia. We found some greasy street food at the back to sit among the locals and plan our catchup strategies for the next seasons we've missed of Lost, House, Dexter, etc, etc - a masterstroke of domestic life. Happy days.
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