Cuzco

We made our way through the city of 2 million to the heart of the Inca capital where the temples of the Incas were used as the foundations for the Spanish churches.
Cobbled stoned streets and pushy vendors greeted us as we walked toward the plaza de armaz, the city center. Sitting down at a cafe was hard work as we continued saying ¨no gracious¨ to the constant number of hawkers. However, the plaza we picked for the cafe wasn´t the plaza de armas at all, but a different plaza of benches and trees and colonial buildings. Only after finishing the barrage at the cafe and walking around did we find the correct plaza de armas which was a block away. Of course it was much nicer, twice the size, and with two large churches. Through them led the oldest, and main walkway of the Inca, which led into the temple complex that´s now the plaza.

Dinner was a treat as we felt like the tourists at a the Old Lahaina Luau with the peruvian dance show and the mediocre meal. Just like the tourists at home, Nicole and I were put on stage as a dance spectacle for all the restaurant to laugh at. Luckily, unlike the tourist luau at home, only two other tables were in the room, an older couple, and a japanese tourist group of 15. A dance show for an empty house.

At a cafe we met another visitor from the US, Steven Sullivan, who wrote the book for ¨Remember the Titans¨. A pretty interesting guy, but I had never seen the movie and told him our family wasn´t familiar with it. He couldn´t believe it and had to ask them himself because everyone had seen it. Nicole, ever the movie watcher, told him how she had seen it and how great it was. I was astounded and she laughed wickedly at the look on my face. She´s never even heard of Remember the Titans.

The Chicken and home made mayo sauce caught up with Hannah that night as she spent the next two days in her room with the runs. She missed the large military ruin of Sacsaywaman, with oversized stones up to 300 tons and the unthinkable precision cutting. The stones have a number of sides and one would think that they would have to be hefted into place tens of times in order to accomplish the cuts. Better for Hannah as each ruin became another place of ¨old piled up rocks¨.

We left Cuzco on Sunday morning for the Sacred Valley and Machu Pichu. The Churches were in session with mass and bells were ringing. Locals filtered in and out of the old churches, which always had patriarchal paintings of colonial bishops standing triumphantly in glory. The soot of the candles darkened their luster and golden frames.