Inca Power

It’s 8pm, and the streets lined with rocks that fit together like jigsaw pieces, are also filled with tourists from every nation around the world. The soft orange glow from the street lamps illuminates each hostel and restaurant archway, as well as the person underneath calling out menu descriptions and beckoning your entrance. Artisans haggle over the prices of their many creations neatly laid out on sidewalk display. And highly mobile foot vendors try to convince you that smoking is good, as they shove a pack of cigarettes in your face. The army of young shoe shining boys run around the romantic plaza, playing more than they are working. You could be in any Latin American city really, until you here the one word chorus echoing around every corner, “Massage?!” Its now confirmed, you can only be in one place – Cuzco.