The city of Cusco sits in a beautiful setting in the Peruvian Andes, at an altitude of 3400m asl, a height that left many fellow passengers breathless as they stepped of the plane.  As we were waiting for our bags we were serenaded by a bunch of poncho clad pan pipers, hands fully extended while they played.  Touts quickly descended on us like a swarm of bees.  Even after saying “no”, we still managed to find ourselves sitting next to a tout in our taxi who pointed out sights of interest as we headed towards the centre of town.  We engaged ourselves in a long and boring conversation about the weather, not giving him a chance to get a word in edgeways.  Desperate for an opportunity to give us his sales pitch, he hovered around as we were booking into our hotel.  Eventually collaring us, he tried to flog us a tour on the Inca trail to Machu Picchu, a bus trip through the Sacred Valley and a visit to the jungle.  We were trying to enjoy our first cup of coca tea (a pile of leaves in a cup filled with boiling water – it smelt rank but did not taste too bad), and the last thing we wanted to do was think about what trips we wanted to go on.  Eventually our tout got bored, storming off in a huff and back to the airport to await the next flight arrival.

We arrived in Cusco at the worst possible time of year (July), when the streets, hotels and museums were full of Americans and Europeans, mostly on large guided tours. 

A British pub – The Cross Keys – sold European and American beers, but we didn’t think the Guinness would have travelled well and kept to the local beer, Cusquenan, instead.   Mounted on the walls were photos from the UK, Premiership football scarves and a large wide screen TV showing sport highlights.  They even had pool tables and served roast dinners.  We could see why it was so popular.

It is impossible to walk 10 metres through the streets of Cusco without being hassled by someone.  It is a real shame as it ruins the ambiance of the place.  We were constantly harassed by street vendors to buy postcards, chocolates or fags, have a shoeshine, or take a taxi ride – the touts would not take “no” or something harsher for an answer.  We wanted to shout at them all, but most of them were just kids who were trying to earn a meagre living.  The most frustrating ones were those would hang around while we ate, loitering at the end of the table, with their hands limply extended and a pathetic look upon their faces.

As time went on, our boots got dustier and dustier, and we were attracting the attention of more and more shoe shiners.  Young boys seemed to appear from every side street, shouting a very bored, “Shoeshine” as they spotted even the smallest speck of dirt on your shoes.  We would reply, “no gracias” and they would reply, “only one sol, shoeshine” again.  This dialogue would go on a few more times, round and round in circles, until they got bored and left.  They appeared to work in teams and as soon as one walked away another quickly replaced them, “Shoeshine mister?”

 “No gracias”.

“Only one sol, shoeshine?”

 “No gracias”.

“OK, shoeshine?”

Aaargh.  After a while we ended up giving in and at one stage we had one boy cleaning a shoe each, surrounded by a dozen more of them who were desperate to clean his shoes again when the other two had finished polishing.

We experienced a new pest that we had encountered before, but not to such a great extent – restaurant touts.  They were ten times worse than those that you find in Europe hanging outside the doors, thrusting menus into your hands.  Nothing would deter this new strain of super pest, and they would even chase you down the streets.  It was no great surprise that the busiest restaurants, as well as having the best reputation for good food, did not have touts hanging outside the entrance.  One evening, after having looked at the menu in peace, we decided to go into the restaurant and we’re bombarded from all directions by a bunch of touts from other restaurants, who literally tried pulling us away from the door.  They really started getting on our nerves and we felt like punching them.

Cusco was quite stressful and after one afternoon of being there we were desperate to escape.  The only thing that made our visit bearable was that it is such beautiful city.

Article taken from Inca Hoots by Caius Simmons & Vicky Brewis.

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