13th November 2023
With a couple of days dedicated just to acclimatising, I got to spend a fair bit of time observing, chatting to, and reflecting on Cusco's people.
The centre
The centre is grand and historic, but despite all the hawkers and the cafes and tourist agencies, it still feels like a town the people own, not the tourists. The Plaza de Armas was always more full of locals than tourists, and many of the visitors appeared to be Peruvians. They were mostly family groups and they loved taking photos of themselves in front of the statue to the last Incan King (see the pic later), many of the women wearing the colourful gear that seems to be the national dress.
The plaza is used for a wide range of public functions too. I'd often hear music or see a parade occuring in a corner, or watch the crowds spill out of the two cathedrals after Mass.
Downtown Cusco - the main shopping street from the roof of my hotel
The suburbs
Away from the historic centre, though, Cusco is a gritty town. Apart from tourism, which is now it's no.1 earner, it is a mining town, with a workforce supporting copper mines in the mountains. And like many mining towns, people look care-worn and work-fatigued and many of them live in fairly poor housing. On the positive side, they all looked well-fed, I saw no signs of homelessness and the children almost universally were well groomed, well dressed and happy-looking. But the suburbs extending from the historic centre of Cusco to every hill in the distance are pretty shabby and basic.
The Incan Capitol
Before the conquistadors arrived, Cusco was the capital of the Incan Empire. References to that past can be found all over the town, most notably in the Plaza de Armas, where the last Incan King presides over the square's daily life in a triumphant, inspirational and dignified pose:
He was the King who made Macchu Picchu his Summer Palace. It's a grand statue.
Not far away, in another downtown square, a street performer mimicked him, providing a 30-second dance jiggle to a recording of I Come from A Land Down Under (seriously!) if you pay him some pesos:
I wonder what he thinks a Vegemite Sandwhich is
Cusco's founding
The legend of the town's founding is, in a word, complicated. It goes something like this:
Four brothers from the 'Ayar' family were searching for new land. The Ayars had issues; three of the brothers were annoyed with the fourth because he kept lying about stuff and one day after Bro 4 had done some lying, they locked him in a cave where he screamed so loudly that he 'opened the mountains'. At this stage the brothers' wives got involved, although their role is unclear; something about them insulting an idol at Mount Huanacauri and the idol petrifying one of the remaining brothers. So now there were two remaining brothers, until one of them carelessly grew wings and flew to Pampa del Sol and became a stone. This left just one brother, his wife, and three excess wives to push on looking for land. Ayar Bro 4 eventually founded Cusco 'next to his wife' (wise man) by pushing a cane into the ground to see if it sunk with ease. The cane penetrated the soil easily, so he instantly built a temple which he called either Inticancha or Coricancha, no one knows which. And that was the founding of Cusco.
If you don't believe me:
Just a tip, Ayar family: A little soil sampling early on the legend could've saved a lot of petrification.
Catholic Cusco
In the historic centre, just off from the Plaza De Armas and around the corner from my hotel, was one of Cusco's major galleries. It was a former Archbishop's Palace, an extraordinary and very grand building that would be at home in Porto or Avila, although its presence here in Cusco instantly made me think of Catholic colonialism and movies like The Mission.
The exhibition was disappointing for me, possibly for that reason. Room after room of vestments, statues of Christ covered in blood, Stations of the Cross, Mannequins of the Virgin Mother, and dozens of silver crowns used to crown her. Maybe if I were in Europe I'd be more interested in seeing these things; in Cusco I couldn't get past the cultural imperialism of it all. I moved quickly through, happy to abide by all the signs saying I'd be escorted from the building if I photographed anything.
Hawkers and touts
Perhaps unsurprising in a town that relies so heavily on tourism, there is a LOT of street hawking, and the most common hawkers are: restaurant touters, jewellry and art vendors, massage vendors, day tour agents and dodgy uber drivers.
The artwork is all the same. Clearly in many cases, the orginals are supplied in bulk and signed by the hawker as their own work. Some hawkers may be genuine artists selling their own work, but the amount of duplication suggests the actual artists are few and far between. And of course, that doesn't mean some of the pieces aren't worth picking up anyway, despite undoubtedly being overpriced and churned out in bulk by someone else.
I bought an acrylic painting from Harry, seen here holding the rolled up canvas in his right hand. One sale, however, is never enough, he called over the woman at right to try to sell me some jewellry as well I said no, but asked if I could take this photo and gave them a couple of peso's each for the trouble. The woman totally sulked, as you can see.
Some negative observations:
Many of the hawkers I encountered felt entitled to short change foreigners, particularly if the foreigner can't speak any eSpaniol.
There is a (perhaps understandable) preoccupation with upselling in any shop, even when buying sun cream in a Pharmacy. I was led away from the normal tubes and told that the refrigerated lotions imported from the USA and for sale at $90 USD were the best bet for me. When I said no, the sales assistant made a drama about how she'd already entered the sale in the till and would have to reverse it. So I walked out and went elsehwere.
Hawkers will be ultra-friendly until they realise they're not going to get a sale out of you, then will quickly become surly and indifferent (refer to the photo above).
Touters don't like to be ignored, even if they're shouting at you the moment you step outside your hotel. They punch their hands and hiss if you just walk past them. A 'hola' is enough.
Some positive observations:
Some people will go out of their way to help you, even crossing the road with you to find an ATM, for example.
If you take a touter up on their offer, they will escort you to the restaurant and get you the best seat possible and will suddenly find English speaking skills. They only expect a coin, which is miniscule value in AUD.
Uber drivers will reach for Google Translate, rather than let a conversation going nowhere die a natural death.
If all else fails, hang some shit on Chile. Works a treat in Peru. In Chile, hang the some shit on Argentina or Venezuala. Instant popularity. Even something like 'Los Argentinos estan locos' ('Argentinians are mental') will be enough.
If someone's speaking even basic English, establish that you're from Australia. Chances are they have a relative here.
Meet the locals
So here is a photo essay of some of the Cuscoans I met:
This magnificently hatted lady was waiting in the queue to buy a lump of llama. I gestured if she would mind if I took a photo with her and she had no qualms, this is a tourist town after all. I gave her a couple of pesos. OK I was a big fat tourist, judge me if you want.
This lady will let you pat her baby goat for 5 pesos. Or 6 Pesos if she's on the phone
On Nadia Kader's advice I had a meal at Chincilla (?) restaurant in Cusco and was waited on by this lovely lady. The restaurant is owned by two Australians, one of whom is the Australian Honorary Consulate for this area, but they were in Australia at the time of my visit. (Can see the altitude and jet lag having its effects on me in this pic I reckon.)
This lady was selling lumps of llama wool outside the museum.
Just a random shot. Where would we all be without our phones.