El Mariscal Cusco
Mariscal Gamarra zona 3 b-27 Cusco, 051, Peru
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Pamper day
... then went back. I paid a little extra for a hot stone massage and liked the pedicure so much I got a manicure too! It was so cheap though! Oh and turns out after speaking to mum yesterday I do have money left so I am not so broke afterall! We went to an Internet cafe and I caught up on my blogs. We popped into the hostel to get our bags then had a Chinese down the road. Then we will be off to the bus station for a night ...
Elevation of 3,400 m (11,200 ft)
... was spectacular, we passed over the mountains and then flew around some into a valley landing right in the middle - between two mountains. Photo's from plane and the city view might help with that explanation.
Getting off the plane, a faint reminder came to me of what it felt like when I used to work in Irian Jaya, at the mine where the altitude was high, so it made me feel much better knowing what to expect. Others ...
The Inca Trail
... gave us some information about the ruins but seemed to go off on a tangent before he had explained what he originally intended to. We could see that this could emerge as a frustration for us over the coming days. About three hours into the twelve kilometre trek we stopped for lunch which was much nicer than expected. While the food was tasty, it certainly was not plentiful and most people commenced the afternoon leg of the trek ...
Cusco. Into the Andean mountains
... to explore the city together, and enjoy a night out on the town. In turns out that any night is a good night to party in Cusco, and it is easy to find a bar or club bumping into the wee hours of the morning, even on a Sunday or Monday night.
Of course not everything in Cusco is about partying. We managed to enjoy free salsa lessons at our hostel one night, explore the many markets that are scattered throughout the city, buy some typical Cusco ...
Peruvian Perils
... you would think two strapping, young, well to do travellers from London would be equipped for this ascent of the Peruvian Everest. We were not. I was clad in a t-shirt my mum bought from me from a thrift store in Melbourne in the late 90s, a pair of Tottenham Hotspur football shorts and a pair of trekking socks which I pulled up to the knees in an attempt to ward of mosquitos. I looked like a cross between a schoolyard pedophile and a 50-year old ...


