Back to Cuszco, and I remember that my sister in law Beatriz told us all that temperatures in the mountains where we will be trekking have been plunging to minus 20. And all I brought is a selection of T-Shirts. So it`s off to the shops for me, and thankfully Lawrence has a good friend called Jack who has arrived on the scene and knows Cuszco pretty well. We all jump into a taxi and head off to the poor part of town where we reckon we can haggle a decent coat. Once again the God of coats is kind to me, and while Jack is buying himself an unbelievably hideous full-body orange jumpsuit and a wife-beater, I found myself a good oiled fleecy jacket, and paid 35 soles for it. Just over a fiver. And that was still too much.
Then everyone went back to the Plaza del Armas where they have recently built a Bembos. This is a Peruvian answer to McDonalds, and sent Lawrence into paroxysms of excitement. I opted not to go, and this turned out to be the biggest mistake of the holiday. While I was vaguely wondering where to go and get a sandwich a small child nicked my wallet. And then probably went off singing to his be-mittened old singing mentor for some cold cherries and custard and pease pudding and saveloys. Leaving me totally dependent on my friends until my bank gets it´s finger out and sends me my new card.
UGH.
Failed to mention the puppets. These were finger puppets that people try and flog you in the squares. Usually the girl that is selling them speaks in a cutesy wootsy woo woo voice and pretends to cry if you refuse to buy them. Of course it just serves as a distraction for the nasty little midgets to get in under your radar.
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