Qosqo, Qosqo
ombligo del mundo
ancient Inca capital
red bricks and whitewashed alleys
hidden backyards filled with flowers and parked motorcycles
the garbage truck’s bell as it bends around the corner
the sounds of Radio Felicidad coming through open windows
the morning wake-up call of water kettles and «licuadoras»
constant honking
taxi drivers slowing down in search of customers
buses and cars racing around corners, nearly running over pedestrians
car alarms going off every once in a while
cute vintage VW beetles and buses
«masaje, masaje!»
tourists’ chit-chat
«mamita, ¡ricos tamales por un sol!»
smell of «canchitas», the small carts parked at intersections
suntanned faces and braided hair
snatches of a conversation in Runa Simi
the language of the people
the train’s horn that sounds more like a boat
planes rising out of the city, criss-crossing the sky
sidewalks strewn with garbage
the stench making passersby hold their noses
stray dogs rummaging through the scraps
cute little coffeeshops inviting you to stay for a while
friendly faces and pleasant chats
picaflores making their way from flower to flower
salsa rhythms tempting the listener to dance
fiestas, danzas
feet tapping, skirts flying
flowers in their hair
streets crowded with fascinated onlookers
the colours of the rainbow
festivities that attract thousands of spectators
in a city with a small town feeling
Y en estas calles me pierdo, me busco, me encuentro, me enamoro, me redefino y me quedo mirando, siempre mirando…
Cusco, mi querido Cusco
Dear Amy!
So well written! I always enjoy reading about all your adventures… brings back so many memories of my own travels…. Not in S-America, but nevertheless!
Enjoy all you do, it sounds wonderful and inspiring!
Love, Andrea
Thanks a lot, Andrea! Well, you’ve experienced lots of adventures too, no? 😉
Hope all is well back in Switzerland, sending muchos saludos to Willy and the girls too!