Flight over the Andes.



Cusco, once the capital of Inka empire, is one of the most charming places I have ever seen. Falling in love with the city started almost the moment it came in sight from the airplane: Thousands and thousands of little houses are scattered over the valley and up the hills, their colors and location making them look like a toy town some child playing in the garden has spent hours on arranging in the fresh-cut grass between molehills. Away from the busy main roads, there are labyrinths of steep little cobblestone side streets too small for a car to pass, with tiny balconies rising into them from the surrounding houses. Uncountable little corner shops offering everything you can imagine, green parks and clouds of people flocking through the main streets, locals trying to sell vegetables, paintings and homemade dolls whenever you pause for a moment.

Peruvian woman cooking something tasty in her street food place.



The Plaza de Armas has been the heart of the city since Inka times. One could spend hours here, just sitting on a park bench or lying in the grass watching people...



Peruvian woman at the Plaza de Armas; little schoolboys in their uniforms taking a rest.



I’ll upload more and higher resolution pictures when I come over a faster computer. However. Tomorrow I will get to know the Cusco off the touristy track, when I start my teaching job at a daycare centre in a poor part of the city. I’m excited, wish me luck!

I only spent one day in Lima, Peru’s hectic, mist-covered capital with a cloud of smog, sweat and humidity waving through the streets, but is has been quite an experience: Run-down areas of deepest poverty next to fancy suburban districts filled with the rich, tourists and countless places to spend money on culinary delights, shopping or entertainment. Colorful VW-sized combis, little buses speeding through the city, stopping wherever flagged down. Drivers leaning out of open doors at red traffic lights, advertising their destinations. The streets are ruled by combis, taxi-drivers and private cars. All of them have one thing in common: As long as the road is empty, they will go as fast as their rickety cars allow. Whenever there is someone in their way, they hit the horn, leaving it to the pedestrian to jump aside. Crossing a street in Lima takes some courage.
There are the luxury hotels and the beach at Miraflores, bordering on the dirty areas surrounding the airport: The poor places look like villages made of old shoe boxes, one randomly put next to or on top of the other. Contradictions. Looking out of the taxi window after driving through a poor barrido is a little like waking up, opening your eyes for the first time: We are spending heaps of money on a toothbrush for our dog, while someone might be starving around the next corner. The sad thing is not that this is what we do. The sad thing is that becoming aware of what we are doing just does not make us change a thing.



Lima has beautiful parts as well, of course. Mercedes’ family picking me up at the airport, giving me a heartily hug and making me feel like an old friend, even though we have never met before. The car’s alarm system going off two times as Vincente tries to unlock the door (I suppose it is his car, though). His help with finding another hostel for me as the one I have a reservation at claims to have never heard of me. Talking the woman in charge of the new place to give me a student discount of 30 percent they have not even on offer. It’s all about knowing the right people. Spending the evening at Miraflores at a restaurant with view on the ocean, having my first Peruvian beer, Cusqueña, looking at the garúa, sea fog, turning the sea into an off-this-world place. Though, I am happy to have left it behind. Diving through the veil of smog and garúa in the smallest airplane I have ever taken, seeing the sun again and heading for Cusco.