Walking Around Cusco

As I mentioned in the last post, Cusco is a beautiful place to walk around.
Doors everywhere are fantastic. Some of them look like they haven't been opened, except for the smaller door-within-a-door, for centuries.
The "cuestas," streets made of stairs, remind me of my favorite quote from "Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure" (referring to ancient Greece, not Cusco): "There were many steps and columns. It was most tranquil."
Speaking of ancientness, I've noticed in Cusco that it acts on hippies like catnip does on cats. There is a compulsion among the many hippies who gather here and stay for months or years to be near old sacred sites. And in some cases the Incan stuff--only ~600 years old--isn't ancient enough. My Russian yoga teacher Alec explained to me that the temples where he does ceremonies with the hallucinogenic cactus San Pedro were constructed 30,000 years ago. It is debated within the archaeological community whether there were even humans in South America that early. But of course Alec also told me that "under normal circumstances our DNA is only operating at six to seven percent," but certain yoga poses can increase this percentage. I think he just marches to the beat of his own drummer.

The colonial balconies and arcades around the Plaza de Armas are beautiful. I also admire the headgear of the National Police, which ranges from cowboy hats to pith helmets to little polo-style helmets.
The Municipal Police, on the other hand, are remarkable mainly for the flag of Cusco which they sport on their shoulders. I like imagining that they are the Gay Police, and will blow their whistles at you if they see you acting too hetero.
Sometimes the rich, dual architectural heritage of Cusco leads to some really shameful practices. Take this building, which juxtaposes pitiful imitations of colonial-era balconies with take-offs of Incan niches, doing neither any justice.
Here is the building's hideously schizophrenic main entrance. Cusco needs Architecture Police as well as Gay Police.
Sometimes, however, even the most homely corners have a certain quiet charm. I love these little ramshackle scenes.
And finally, I must share a photo of my favorite vegetarian hole in the wall, partly to prove that I'm not speaking metaphorically when I call it a hole in the wall. The sisters who run this place serve delicious falafel tacos, lentil hamburgers, chai, and fresh juices with an infectious bodhisattva-esque joy and calm. Sitting on the stools here I met some of the most interesting and engaging people I've talked to in Cusco, wanderers from the States, Brazil, Argentina, Hong Kong, Germany, and of course other parts of Peru. I admire the mysterious ease with which little gems like this place conjure community out of nothing.