Cusco, 2010

¡Aieeee Cuenca! ¡Increible! Que una experiencia positiva this has started to be. This timely place is like no other I have seen, visited, or lived within. Once the heart of the Inca empire it still holds close to that heritage despite the efforts of Spanish conquest and dominion to erase and displace. So instead, Cusco presents a strange, sometimes shameful, sometimes embarassing, mostly wonderful mixture (mezcla) of Inca ans spanish. The Inca language of Quechua is as present as espanol, adding to my confused attempt at learning spanish. Where the spanish came they destroyed virtually every Inca structure in their path. But, what is found in this wonderful place is spanish structure over partially destroyed Inca foundation. It is easily seen where Catholic cathedral or church stuctures rise from the walls of Inca temples. Religion itself has often united the multiple deity worship of the Inca into the Catholic ritual and practice.

It is almost too easy to get lost here. There is a slight patchwork of street placement. However, there are almost as many incoherent, almost invisible, pathways diverting to unknown intersections, many using the very Incan rock roaks laid out between temple sites. Way too narrow for vehicles you have to follow as young Judy Garland walked and sang up that yellow brick road. Not too far fetched an idea either as on Temple of the Sun, its blank walls still visible, once had gold on those walls, that reflected the fullness of the sun down the Avenida del Sol toward another distant and massive defensive structure, Saqsaywaman (pronounced in a drunken drawl as Sexy Woman). If you squint your eyes you can easily imagine the mirrowed rays of gold bouncing off the stone avenue from the temple walls. Of course the spanish took the gold and ran.

People are everywhere, Peruvian and turistica. Even on these strange side streets you often will find a Quechuan woman sitting against the walls weaving some textile creation from llama or alpaca. And, most expectedly wanting to sell her products. I have yet to see any signs of affluence, so all are in constant wait to sell good or service, artwork, craft, shoeshine, food, photo. Some Andeans dress in full cultural attire, bring their youngest also so attired, and even llama or alpaca, themselves often decorated, expecting turisticas to take photos, for a cost of one sol, or about thirty cents. Why not? And, these children´s faces could change the heart of the coldest and most greedy on Wall Street. Certainly memories and photos to have and share.

Since few read this far, I will come back next week with tails of Inca ruins.

I hate graveyards and old pawnshops
For they always bring me tears.
Can´t forgive the way the rob me
Of my childhood souvenirs.

Memories they can´t be boughten
They can´t be won at carnivals for free
Well it took me years to get these souvenirs
And I don´t know how they slipped away from me.
(S. Goodman)