This was my 3rd trip to Cuzco. My first was when we arrived (however brief that visit was because we immediately got in a combi bound for Ollanta), the second time was when Mare, Peaps and I went overnight last weekend to pick up Phil from the airport on Sunday afternoon, and I just returned from Cuzco for the 3rd time after spending 3 nights there in order to deliver Phil to the airport on time yesterday morning, despite the transportation strike over the last 2 days.
Cuzco has a lot of charm but when it comes down to it, it's a city. A busy, crowded, polluted city like any other...and after being spoiled by the peace and pace of Ollanta, I was a little grouchy when we first arrived in Cuzco on Wednesday evening. I find myself out of breath a lot as it is just by being pregnant, so the fact that Cuzco's altitude is even higher than that of Ollanta is an added bummer because it pretty much means I'm out of breath just sitting still. This is an exaggeration of course but the dramatics help get my point across.
I was tired the moment we arrived in Cuzco and it didn't help that a lot of the roads were blocked off for the protests that were going to happen the following day (Goes hand in hand with the transportation strike. Apparently the Peruvians are protesting the selling of their gasoline to other countries when they often find themselves with a shortage), so our taxi driver was unable to deliver us to our hostel so Phil and I ended up wandering through the streets in search of our hostel with very large hiking backpacks on. This brings me back to my point of being out of breath when sitting still. Now imagine me walking up hill in Cuzco with a large backpack and then imagine the pouty face of a 6 year old that I must have been wearing. Gringos stick out like sore thumbs in Cuzco, so now also imagine that every 2 steps we took we were approached by someone asking if we wanted to buy a painting, get a massage or enter into their establishment for some food. I've heard rumors that they sell T-shirts here that just say, "No, Gracias". I gotta get me one of those.
We arrived to the Teatro Inca B&B after receiving help from several policeman along they way who helped point out what direction we needed to walk in. Phil was cheery and optimistic the whole way, which only makes an exhausted prego more irritated when she wants to be grouchy. But this is why I love him. Mr. Positivity. My grouchiness melted away after I could put my backpack down, rest a little and enjoy a hot shower.
Truth be told, I did have a good time when it was all said and done. We went out for dinner, we sat and watched Mexico beat France in the World Cup match at an Irish Pub on the Plaza de Armas, we went to a neat Inca museum which had lot of really cool pre-Colombian art (Phil's favorite), and we sat and watched a bit of the protest which seemed more like a colorful parade than a protest, with the exception of the armed riot police that surrounded the area. We even discovered an amazing restaurant just off of the Plaza de Armas called Cicciolina's for dinner. We were able to have a 3 course meal that included wine for Phil and fresh lemonade for me for a mere $40 USD.
I can pretend to be tough and blame it on the pregnancy hormones, but I definitely cried saying good bye to Phil on Friday morning as he drove off in his cab to the airport. On Thursday as we walked around, Phil stopped into a swanky high end hotel and booked me in for Friday night since I would be staying in Cuzco by myself that night, (which still only cost us about $50). He knew I had been uncomfortable and tired so he said it was so that I could have a night to pamper myself and relax. What a guy!
Moments after I had said good-bye to Phil, as I was walking to my new home for the night, I thought I was getting harassed by one of the local guys when I heard a man's voice say, "Hey sexy lady...want a ride?" I was annoyed yet again until I realized it was Phil in his cab, driving in circles. There were still road blocks up everywhere because of an actual parade and celebration that was happening on the plaza. I laughed when I realized it was him.
The photos attached are of various angles of the Plaza de Armas and the first photo is of Phil with the protesters behind him. He has a smile on his face because these protests were MUCH milder than the last time he was in Cuzco as a kid. As the story goes, Phil and his family had to duck into one of the churches on the Plaza de Armas for safety because of the violence that was happening on the plaza, complete with tear gas and gun fire. Thank goodness we didn't experience anything like that.
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