The journey to Peru is a simple affair, 2hrs 21 according to Google Maps, closer to 5hrs once you factor in exit and entrance for the relevant countries and the fact your are traveling in a large group on a bloody tourist bus.
Not ideal being on a special tourist bus, however there was one significant benefit.
They wait for you at customs, give you all the forms and drive you on to a final destination, which in our case was the city of Puno.
The alternative would be cheaper, but, would involve a three way trip with the middle section, physically walking across the border with all our stuff.
There is a downside to this type of travel and it isn't just seeing people wearing the exact same, silly, touristy, jumper as you.
There is an abundance of people hanging around you at all times, ready to try and sell you something.
I don't mind this too much, expecially if it is small ticket items like food, however the previously very helpful, bus attendant seemed to think that either:
A. I was completely unaware of the costs.
B. Made of money
C. An idiot
D. We are now best buddies
E. All of the above
I think the fact most travellers in this environment are generally on their own or a couple/pair must mean they see us a a potential, four ticket, cash cow.
The bus must have only been moving for about 5 mins on the Peruvian side when he sauntered over with his 'friendly smile' and his glossy flyers. The scene reminded me a bit of when you visit an Arnold Clark to peruse secondhand cars and the salesman brings over some free balloons for the kids.
So here we were, sitting back, while he delivered his, fine tuned, spiel.
He had quickly dropped his initial, big push, of a boat trip, following a few minutes.
I had let him know that we only planned to stay in Puno for one night and that the following day, needed to travel to Cusco.
Unfazed, he had just the perfect product for us, and my first thought was, rather reluctantly, 'that actually sounds quite good'.
He was proposing that a special, luxury coach, would pick us up at our hotel (we were actually staying in a hostel, however not hugely relevant) and would drive us to Cusco.
That was just the half of it though, we would stop, several times along the way.
We would see various sites of historical significance, churches, ruins and he was even throwing in a buffet lunch.
It would be an early start, but, we were planning an early start, anyway.
OK, so how much?
100 US Dollars, per person (for avoidance of doubt or confusion, that's 4 tickets needed)
Fuck Off, was my immediate reaction and I think I managed to bite my tongue and initially stay silent.
Although the guy spoke good English, I am well aware, from experience, that if I speak quickly, people can't understand a word that I am saying.
Can't understand a word, probably isn't totally true.
He probably picked up on the 'fucking expensive' part, when I turned to Jessica and said at about 200mph 'that's fucking expensive, what a rip off, does he think we are idiots or something'
That wasn't the end of it though, after he left us to think about it, I noticed, that there was an additional entrance charge to enter each site and there was even picture of Machu Pichu on the flyer!, it's not even on the route.
Obviously, we politely declined and opted to make our on way to Cusco, on a luxury coach, in posh seats, with a packed lunch and it only cost us 60 US dollars, for everyone.
So that was our journey, over the border and we arrived in Puno about 4 in the afternoon.
There isn't really much to say about Puno, we were only staying one night.
It was pishing it down, there was yet another carnival parade and although very similar to those being held in Bolivia, the music was more melodic, slightly less noisy and the shape of the women's hats were less of a bowler nature and had slightly more of a flat top.
We ate pizza, bought new SIM cards or chips as they call them here and I had an interesting conversation with a struggling artist who was selling his paintings in the street.
By 9 o clock we were all in bed and by 6am we were all back up and off to the bus station.
We were off to the city of Cusco, one of or even the most significant cities for tourism in the whole of Peru or mabye even the whole South American.
Cusco is the formal capital of the Inca empire and at an altitude of 3400mtrs there is a level of acclimatisation required for most travellers.
Not us though, The Finnies, have been there, done that and although we haven't bought the altitude acclimatisation t-shirts, we did pick up those silly jumpers in Copacabana.
So I guess what I am saying is that, 3400mtrs is a piece of piss for us we don't even notice it (well maybe a tiny bit).
Our first impression of Cusco was a bit of serious rush hour traffic and the final couple of miles was painfully slow, that aside, it is a busy, vibrant place, loads of nice architecture and not unpleasant on the eye.
Our apartment, first impressions is okay, little bit cold (they don't do central heating in Bolivia and now it seems Peru too), however this is all quickly forgotten when the wifi speed is tested and the man from delmonte says - yes.
We have been on a run of seriously shitty wifi for couple of weeks now and this means that we can stream a wee movie or two, which is a big treat for all involved.
Before any movies could be watched though there was trip to the supermarket needed. This is a regular mission that I embark on when we arrive in a self catering environment.
Although Edith likes to tag along, the first mission is always a solo mission.
I quite enjoy it, it can be exciting, I am always a bit nervous, never really have too much of an idea where I am going.
Is the area safe? will I get lost?
I actually did get a wee bit lost, once, in Cordoba, Argentina, however a wee retrace of steps and a quick look at Google Maps sorted it and I was only really worried for a few minutes.
After that day I always saved our new location in my phone, full proof, nothing could ever go wrong.
So off I went, rucksack-check, mp3 player-check, bag for life-check and headed off.
Ten minutes was all Google Maps said it would take, I was planning 8mins, 40% ahead of schedule and I pretty much did it.
Not even an unanticipated, very steep, hill could stop that.
This is where the problem with technology comes in, Google Maps got me to where it planned to take me, however when I got there...
No supermarket, there was a shop, a large upmarket off-license, some would say - result.
Yes, I did have beer on my messages list and given half a chance wine stood a good chance of being added too, however......
Where the problem lies it that I wasn't going to pickup milk, bread, eggs, cheese, ham, the standard staples and I would would be flabbergasted if they sold Zucaratis (that's what they call frosties, over here) in the off-license.
What do I do, I felt let down by Google, if they put as much effort into accuracy as they do into tax avoidance, this would never have happened.
A quick search for supermercado gave back results of a not great, but, could be a lot worse, a walk of 18min to a supermarket.
It looked like a fairly straightforward walk, with not too many turns etc.
With the exception of flagging a cab, which I didn't fancy , due to only having large notes and also the thought of interacting wasn't appealing, there wasn't really an alternative, so off I went.
On a positive note, I felt safe, the area was obviously good, it wasn't dark and I was enjoying being out on the busy streets.
Things took a positive turn about 100 mtrs down the road when I saw what appeared to be entrance to a market.
Markets as fun as they sound present a few difficulties. In an ideal world I would only shop in markets, buying local; sights and colours are all more prevalent in a market. The buzz, the smells, the atmosphere and the sense of being local and buying local is brilliant, travel writers romanticise about it, all the time.
The harsh reality is that when you are stressed out of your nut, you really could do without this and walking around a familiar looking supermarket or even better still, Aldi on Gilmerton Road, would be a far better option.
The traders are all really nice though and from a speaking Spanish perspective it is both enjoyable and great practice. The traders are all very helpful and if they don't sell what you are after, they are more than happy to point you in the direction of someone who may have what you want.
I did ask one if there was a supermarket nearby, understanding they said no.
If you were at the farmers market at Castle Terrace and you asked if there was somewhere nearby that sold Lurpak bacon, I am pretty sure that they would say no, possibly in full knowledge that there is a Sainsbury at the Pubic Triangle, or possibly not.
I was still lacking cream, frosties (Zucaratis), milk and booze, from my list, however I had done well.
Travel writers/bloggers in my position would have revelled in the atmosphere and commented on the sights, smells and noise.
I spent a bit of time selecting only the finest paltas (that's Spanish for Avacado) and smelt the atmosphere, copped a good squeeze and did my best to have my own Hairy Bikers/Rick Stein moment.
It turned out in the morning that the said avacados were a bit hard.
It is better to try and fail, than to not try at all though.
I even managed to find someone, who sold milk.
Poco Problema
They sold fresh milk ie unpasteurised, fresh, milk.
Had I been planning on making cheese and not lubricating Axel's Frosties, this would be fine, however given, unlike his sister, Axel only had one request, this simple task was becoming more troublesome.
Edith is easy, an apple followed by fried/boiled eggs on toast and she is happy as Larry. Axel on the other hand is a fan of multiple bowls of cereal and if he is still hungry a boiled egg (never eats the yolk though and Edith still hasn't cottoned on that he doesn't like it and compliments him profusely when he presents it to her as a prime example of playing a pivotal role in a 'sharing family').
On the way back home, I passed and called into the said large off licence.
I had a wee chat with the sales assistant and explained what I was after. Vino tinto (that's red wine, for anyone still not up with the program) and some beers.
I was initially a little bit worried that he was going to show me the 'good stuff', which really wasn't what I was after. Just wanted a cheap, good, bottle of red, that was all that was needed.
Fears averted, a new problem occurred.
He led me over to a corner section and started to run me through his recommendations. It was all Peruvian wine and at first looked very normal and regular. He handed me his selection.
Upon closer inspection, something grabbed my eye.
The wine was only 11.5%, he correctly read my body language and realised that I wasn't impressed, next bottle 11.5%.
My Spanish must have come on leaps and bounds as I was able to explain the issue and he even asked me if I was Portuguese, which I am definitely taking as a compliment.
He was then even able to point me in the direction of a very close by supermarket, that coincidently wasn't coming up on Google Maps.
So that's my initial experience of Cusco.
Our travel books fawn over Cusco to near boak inducing levels, one of which has dedicated a full 27 pages to the city and surrounding mass of history. Nothing as such wrong with this, however the same book only managed 25 pages (1 of which, was an advert) on the whole of Uruguay.
This seems to backup my previous hypothesis that travel writers do not always visit the country of subject and in the case of Uruguay the library was somewhat lacking on info on western Uruguay or perhaps someone forgot that it even existed.
Well, it does and has some amazing termas (hot water thermal pools).
Social Engagements
A while back we were contacted by a guy called Angus, who lives in Campbelltown, but, more importantly, his daughter lives in Cusco.
He had been following our journey through our travelmap site, was going to be in Peru for an extended period and would we like to meet up.
At the time we were in southern Bolivia, pretty far away from Peru, however we were keen and wanted to make it work and would be heading that way, anyway.
We have not been on a social engagement for about 6 months now so safe to say we were all a tad excited about this and the kids were especially thrilled to find out that there would be other children there.
Things got even better when the night before when we realised that we were in walking distance of Angus's daughter Elizabeth's flat.
So walking we did, armed with a bottle wine for the adults and cake for the kids.
We had a lovely lunch the following day and it was great chatting away to familiar accents and all things Scottish. I even got try my first taste of Inca Kola, the Peruvian equivalent of Irn Bru that although completely different in colour, Inca fluorescent yellow, Bru fluorescent orange, there a passing resemblance in taste.
Education wasn't purely on the sugary drink front, Ali, Elizabeth's husband is local and is a bit of an oracle when it comes to tourist information. Contrary to the advice in the books we had saved booking our trip to Machu Trip until the last minute and the gamble definitely paid off as he was able to explain the various options and what may be best for us.
This had all been great and we felt confident that we would make the right choices of how to get Machu Pichu, where to stay and also a sense of relief that the books were indeed talking shite, that you needed to book a week in advance.
So all that was really left for Cusco was a visit to the historic centre, book the tickets and whether or not we would sample the local gourmet delicacy.
The trip to Machu Pichu was easy enough to sort with one wee visit to the Peru Rail offices and a quick cab ride had us up to the Instituto Nacional de Cultura to buy tickets to get into the actual site itself.
Thankfully this is in a great location to set us up for a bit of sight seeing and a spot of lunch.
There is a beautiful main square and we found a lovely restaurant, well, actually the menu clad, sales guy, found us, but sometimes you just need to go with the flow, when you are hungry.
In and around the square there was the huge impressive Baroque-style cathedral with it grandiose paintings, murals, tapestries and an abundance of gold, this place was a testament to opulence.
The Catholic Church isn't perfect by any count, however nobody could question their wealth retention record that on a European Sovereign state level, only Norway could rival.
There is also the Museo Inka and the Iglesia de la Compañia de Jesus is equally as impressive as the Cathedral.
The square is also a hive of activity for local entrepreneurs, working hard to sell souvenirs, tours and even pictures.
I mentioned the struggling artist that I had a chat with in Puno, he showed me his work told his story and I really connected with him and his work and wanted to buy something, however we just don't have the space.
Imagine my surprise when some boys were trying to sell me the same pictures in a main square of a city, 6hrs away. They even had the exact same artsanal leather presentation folder.
The sole difference was the boys in Cusco had seriously crap sales patter.
That guy in Puno was good, he really had me taken in, fair play to him, it's his job, but, imagine how pissed off I would have been if I had bought one and then seen the same thing a couple of days later.
As the weegies say, I would have been pure, dead, raging.
Local Delicacies
As South America goes, Peru is famous for its cuisine, head over heals better than anymore else and from what we have experienced so far, only Bolivia comes close to rivaling it.
One dish that Peru is famous for is its cerviche, however given that Cusco is well over 500 miles from the sea and given the fact that it takes over 15hrs to drive the route, we thought it best to give that a miss for just now.
Cusco has its own dish that it is famous for though.
Cuy Al Horno - Roasted Guinea Pig
I am normally pretty up for trying anything, however this time I was a little more reluctant.
On the table next to us was a group of young Americans who it transpires were not only on 'spring break', but, were at the final stages of consuming Cuy Al Horno.
Sitting in the centre of their table was the savaged carcass of a well fired animal and had it not been for its wee head and protruding big teeth, that bore a passing resemblance to Janet Street-Porter, I may never have known what it was.
In a rare diversion from my usual, antisocial self, I engaged the post pubescent, lanky lads, in a bit of chat.
"How was the Guinea Pig?"
"Awesome", "Really Good"
I wasn't overly convinced, but, Axel was and declared "I want to have Guinea Pig please", so, no need for us to order it.
When the half Guinea Pig arrived, there was one glaring omission.
No head.
Not sure exactly what I was expecting. Suppose a straight cut, down the spine, half a head and one gnasher, would be what you would imagine was a decent half portion.
Axel wasn't put off by the fact he was being served up the arse end of the rodent and in the spirit of trying something new, got right tore in.
He and Edith both loved it, Jessica and I not so much, I found the bit I ate was a little bit slimy and Jessica found hers a bit tough.
One to put down to experience, however I think I will stick to Alpacas in future, if I am going to eat a cute animal.
After all the excitement, it was home for an early night after a nice walk home, including a visit to the very interesting Museo and Convent de San Francisco that still retains the it's original Inca walls and is a lovely space to walk around with it airy central quadrangle.
Rather strangely or not strangely, if you know our kids, Axel and Edith were both keen to get a little souvenir outside the convent.
The strange bit isn't the souvenirs, that request comes about every two seconds.
What were the souvenirs?
Only furry Guinea Pigs!
We are up at 5am tomorrow.
Next stage, Machu Pichu.
Lorne