Picking up from Machu Picchu: What It Actually Feels Like to Be There. The series starts here: Peru and Bolivia: The Andes, the Altiplano and the World’s Most Dangerous Road.

Fernando rode with us to Cusco — he lives there — which meant a detour through places the tourist buses don’t go.

The market at Urubamba was the first stop. Loud, practical, entirely local. Strawberries piled high in baskets, purple corn in heaps, flowers laid out on the footpath, the food stalls packed under a corrugated roof. Women in traditional dress, babies on backs in bright woven cloth, hats of every shape. They finished their shopping and sat around eating and gossiping. The kind of market where you see and smell the actual country.

The Life Cycle of the Guinea Pig

The next stop was a small town that specialised in cuy. A large statue of a guinea pig dressed as an Inca emperor — crown, cape, sceptre, tips jar. It set the scene.

Cuy — guinea pig roasted on a spit over an open fire — is the local speciality. Having encountered it as a tasting menu course in Lima, this was the full version. Before eating we were able to play with our food. No ceremony. Fernando had chicha, traditional. Daryl, driving, had Inca Cola. 

The feet are the best bits. Just not much meat on them.

Pisac and Saqsaywaman

Pisac archaeological site was as large as Machu Picchu, Fernando noted, just without the dramatic cliffs. The terraces sweep down the hillside in long curves, the valley floor far below. A llama had claimed the best viewpoint and showed no intention of moving. Daryl enjoyed it. Outside the entrance, as outside every attraction, women wove and knitted in the sun.

Janine required retail therapy. The market in Pisac provided it.  And a lesson in Quechua.

Then Saqsaywaman — the huge stone complex overlooking Cusco, built from blocks so large their transport remains unexplained. Standing beside one puts the question in perspective. A thunderstorm rolled in from the mountains while we were there, darkening the stones and the city below. It made the whole thing more dramatic and moody. 

Aligning with the aura of the site.

Cusco, Markets and Kiki

We were in the hotel bar sampling Pisco Sours when a woman collapsed and an ambulance was called. A reminder that we were at 3,400 metres. Having been above 3,000 metres for almost a week, we were faring better than most — but the altitude has its own schedule.

Fernando’s tour of his home city had a different quality to the standard itinerary — narrower streets, quieter plazas, the occasional pause to simply breathe. Coca tea helps. Janine’s discovery, muña tea — a mint-family herb that doesn’t smell strongly of mint — turned out to be better.

The market had books, cheese, sweets, a natural medicine counter where locals came to be diagnosed and returned each day for treatment, and a butcher section that required some preparation. The large cathedral had a torture chamber underneath it.

The hotel had a resident alpaca named Kiki, who lived in the courtyard and grazed from a small tray with the quiet dignity of someone who knew the arrangement suited him.

Janine found him charming until he bit her.