Celestial city in the clouds

I knew in advance that Cusco was a high altitude city and to reinforce that knowledge, the small passenger plane wobbled precariously as it descended over the Andean mountain peaks wreathed in cloud to 3,400 metres.

I knew that the air would be thinner and the minute the plane doors opened, I felt it; that slight pressure on the chest and a mild pain circling my skull.

But I hadn’t truly appreciated quite how hard my heart and lungs were going to need to work for the first few days in this low oxygen environment until I was struggling up one of Cusco’s steep, cobbled back streets, lugging a backpack and looking for the Intiquilla boarding house.

I had only gone a few steps from where the taxi dropped us before I was gasping for breath. Little old ladies scurried past me with ease carrying huge bundles as I got more and more puffed out. The Intiquilla was located near the top of the hill and by the time I arrived, I was scarlet in the face and barely able to ring the dangling brass bell.

Luckily, the Intiquilla was worth it. The cobalt blue, solid wooden door opened on a gorgeous colonial courtyard, full of flowers. Little doors led to spartan but comfortable rooms, the beds covered in traditional Peruvian blankets. It was located in the San Blas district, full of artisanal workshops and craft stores and was a great place from which to explore this intriguing Incan city.

Many tourists use this ancient town simply as a launching pad for the Inca Trail and a visit to the legendary Machu Picchu. There is no denying that this is a huge draw, but Cusco and its immediate surroundings deserve much more than a cursory visit and besides, you are likely to have to stay here for at least two days, and preferably longer, to acclimatise before you can attempt the trail.

Cusco was the centre of the Cult of the Sun in Incan times and was also a critically important Andean stronghold for the Spanish after their invasion; it was the scene of some appalling Spanish treachery in their dealings with the indigenous people and ultimately the ruin of the Incan civilisation.

Tellingly, many of the fabulous colonial buildings are built over Incan foundations.

After I had had a restorative coca tea (great for combating altitude sickness), I made my way downhill from San Blas, passing the Stone of Twelve Angles. This wall is made of huge, irregular shaped but interlinking stones, all aligned so perfectly that you can’t help but spend a few minutes admiring them.

The angles are a good introduction to the architectural feats that the Incans were capable of.

I headed on into the heart of Cusco, the Plaza de Armas. The square is dominated by the Cathedral of San Domingo and full of hustlers, tourists and the odd thief. Stone arcades built by the Spanish give the square great character; they now house the most expensive restaurants and shops.

It was nice to while away an hour here with a neon yellow Inca Cola (Peru’s answer to Coca-Cola), especially because the altitude quickly leaves you very dehydrated and grumpy unless you make a concerted effort to drink a lot.

Feeling brave, I then chanced a Pisco Sour, made with local Pisco spirit, lime, sugar and egg white.

It tasted divine and, at altitude, you only need one to get a distinctly warm and fuzzy glow – although other travellers reported that the inclusion of raw egg meant that the drink should perhaps carry a health warning.

When it came to dinner, we moved on from the square, getting better value for money in Cusco’s backstreets and trying the black corn on the cob with cheese, as well as chicha, an ancient drink brewed from the same corn.

Since South America is the home of the potato, we also had to try one of the manifold Peruvian takes on this humble root vegetable.

Papa huancaina is one of the best, consisting of boiled potatoes in a sauce made of garlic, milk, farmers’ cheese, crushed crackers and chilli. It’s the kind of dish you dream about after you get back home. I’m afraid to say that I had to avert my eyes from Cusco’s other famous speciality – guinea pig (cuy) barbecued on a stick.

The Incans did not occupy the Cusco area until after 1200 AD and the sacred Urubamba Valley just outside Cusco is dotted with fascinating ruins of former capital cities and settlements. We took a day trip to see Pisac, where the mountainside is encircled in colossal terraces, ruined buildings and squares. There are also thousands of mainly looted tombs in a cemetery.

As I got back on the bus, I was clutching the inevitable piece of tourist tat from the extensive handicrafts market here – it’s impossible to resist and a lot of the jewellery and weaving is unusual and well made here.

The walled complex of Sacsayhuaman was the next stop, a major city before Cusco was founded by the Incas in the 13th century. Unfortunately, the Spaniards used the stone from this fortress extensively to build houses and government buildings so only the stones which were too big to move remain. These are so well built, it is impossible to fit a blade of grass between them and they require no mortar.

Despite the innumerable tourists in Gore-Tex trotting around, limbering up for the epic climb to Machu Picchu, being in Cusco often felt like I was intruding on another time.

Many local women still wear the traditional Andean dress of wide black skirts, colourful shawls and small black felt bowler hats.

Even with the overlay of colonialism, I frequently found myself dwarfed by the mammoth stones of the Incan foundations of the city. Somehow, in our internet age and despite the rampant expansion of tourism, Cusco has kept a relaxed, timeless feel where the ruins of the Temples of the Sun can command your attention just as much as the mighty Catholic cathedral.

There was more than enough to entertain me for five days, before at last, like almost everyone else here, I was drawn to the jewel in the Incan crown, Machu Picchu. But that’s another story.