Just like starting over....
Trip Start
Dec 26, 2006
1
55
90
Trip End
Dec 25, 2007
Cusco, Peru
Thursday, July 26, 2007
And with no rest for the wicked as the alarm was slammed off at 4.45am to get the train back to Ollantaytambo which this time was not swathed in darkness as the train snaked its way along the valley floor, the snow-capped mountains towering alongside as everyone inside the train battled for legroom and to stay awake. And as I arrived back at Ollantaytambo to reclaim my bed by the river, the rest of the day became about food. From the fried egg sandwiches at the train station at 50 cents a pop, so I grabbed two. My body now is used to a minimum of 2 eggs a day, be it fried, scrambled, hard bolied so who was I to refuse. My cholesterol must be kicking goals at the moment. Not that my lunch of chicken, rice and banoffi pie was gonna help. Man, the ladies at Hearts Cafe in Ollantaytambo make a mean Banoffi Pie, three helpiings in one sitting livving proof! And with all profits going to the local womans and childrens shelter in the Sacred Valley, who was I to refuse.
I awoke to my final morning in Ollantaytambo with the town shrouded in fog which made a change from the blinding sun and blue sky of the previous days. And as I made the last final walk with my pack up what seemed like an ever increasing slope it started to rain, for the first time in what felt like months. Once again, my timing was brilliant, as the cobblestoned streets had all the traction of an ice skating rink. With my bag on the roof of the bus nature called and so it was a mad dash inside before reappearing to find two identical buses leaving at the same time and me having no idea which one I was meant to be on. So with no choice but to board the bus where the ticket guy was waving at me...or the lady behind me, who knows, I headed back to Cusco not sure if my bag was above me, or headed to another Peruvian town, the contents of which would be fought over by the locals. And with bags being pulled from the roof in Cusco, left right and centre there was no sign of the "azul mochilla" from Australia. Until the last bag pulled revealed itself as mine.
My last two days in Cusco were spent catching up with Susanne who I managed to keep bumping into since Arequipa, and who had saved me a bed at another hotel in Cusco...only to find the 25 soles (about $8) a night room was really US$25 a night much to her horror. And given the fact she was only sleeping in the bed until 4am it was a waste. Not to mention the fact the lads next door had gone out and left the light on until they returned at 5am...so our room resembled a lighthouse for most of the night.
With nothing reserved for the next night and Susanne headed off to Salkantay I spent another hour trawling the streets of Cuzco trying to find "un habitacion simple" with no luck until I stumbled upon Hostal Marani in San Blas...great location, a shower just like old days (that is, not required to run around in circles to get wet) and a bed that was an orthapedic surgeons wet dream..and mine!
And with Susanne´s trip cancelled until the next day and the 4am start for nothing, we wnadered around Cuzco at night, resisting the calls for finger puppets, in my case the bag of cocaine waved in my face and the standard cries of massage, massage, you want massage. Question is, was there a happy ending to this story?
