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.
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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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