Kuzcotopia

June 21, 2013

Peru has been a whirlwind.
On the 18th, we arrived in Lima at three in the morning, left Lima by 6:30am, arrived at our lodgings in Cusco around four hours later, at lunch, unpacked (or as much as one can do with the anticipation of exchanging one unfamiliar bed for another the next night), and spent the remaining hours of daylight touring the Incan ruins of Saqsaywaman before a late dinner and a 4:30am wakeup call.

It's a shame we couldn't have spent more time in Cusco. The city itself is fascinating. I may be well-traveled for someone my age, but my adventures have taken me to locations like France, Spain, Basque, Scotland, Wales, Ireland, and the Bahamas, etc…all European countries and North American territories, all western-world cultures--all different and exciting in comparison to my own, but still influenced by Anglo-Saxton roots and Coca-Cola products.

(However, to be fair, Coke runs rampant in South and Central America. Someone once told me that language and religion divide people, while music and cuisine bring them all together. I'd like to take this time to amend that observation: cuisine, music, and the Coca-Cola Company unite people of every race, religion and nation)

The city square, Cusco Plaza, is marked by a giant stone and gold monument of Pachacuti ("The Transformer of Winds"), in memoriam to the king responsible for leading the fight for Incan/Andean independence from the conquistadors' occupation of the Sacred Valley. The plaza sits in the center of at least six different streets that meet head-on to create a sort of roundabout lined with storefronts--mainly jewelry and apparel, as silver ores and mining are the largest source of economic prosperity in the country, followed closely by alpaca meat and wool. Flying from every window, and even atop the monument, is a horizontally striped rainbow flag. It's the official flag of Cusco, separate from Peru's quasi-Canadian-looking flag, in which the maple leaf is traded for an eagle--and given that 90% of Peruvians identify as staunchly Catholic, I didn't have the heart to make never-ending gay pride references about their national hero and beloved revolutionary.

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What fascinates me the most about the city are the streets and building facades. Partially paved, but really about 92% worn brick and cobblestone, the streets are about one lane--including the surface area of the sidewalks.
However, this doesn't dissuade two or three lanes of traffic from forming. There aren't many traffic lights in the city center, so the rules of the road are dictated by one-way signs and stop signs. As in Lima, "dictated" really means "casually suggested," in the same way a pilot casually suggests that you put your cellphone in "airplane mode," but in actuality, it's better for you and everyone around you if turn off your iPod, forsake your winning level of Angry Birds, and just power it down completely (ie--you never do).
The roads are so steep, narrow, and rickety that it feels like you may take out a pedestrian with your side mirrors at any given moment (but only if you haven't first popped the clutch too early and rolled all the way down to the foot of the mountain, first), yet that doesn't stop all traffic at a four-way intersection from trying (and succeeding) at proceeding all at once and battling for the lead spot in line, while struggling two-by-two through throngs of people and cars approaching from the opposite direction.

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The color scheme of Peru, particularly Cusco, varies from anywhere else I've ever been. It doesn't strike me as dirty, yet all of the windows that aren't boarded over seem to be brushed with the thinnest layer of dust, as do the streets and the sides of buildings. The stucco walls, colored in pinks, yellows, teals, and orange aren't chipped or peeling--they just seem muted and tired…like a matte finish versus one that's glossy. In a U.S. city, I guess this would be considered unkempt to some extent, or more likely than not, impoverished, however, traveling amongst it, this appears to be the standard of living. While the hospital and airport were modern and pristine-looking with blue/green glass sides and uncannily crisp, clean, geometric architecture, everything else has this earthy, older feel about it. Perhaps it's because things like airports, hospitals, and wealthy neighborhoods in Lima are more multinational, and therefore expected to modernize and adopt a traditionally western flair. 

Meanwhile, these small cities are generations old and have no need to appeal to any time outside of their own, therefore, they stay authentic…a rather odd juxtaposition when you see enough locals carrying iPhones, and wearing Guess Jeans and designer sunglasses. 

The world is never immune to change, which is why I've made it my goal to find some indigenous, aboriginal people still living in some untouched corner of the globe, without even the concept of electricity and gasoline horsepower, just to appeal to my own sympathies that my world and my culture hasn't tainted and bastardized someone else's in a realm void of economic ebb and flow based in the whims of consumerism and technology.