What`s in a country?
Saturday night we were back in Paddy Flaherty’s for what I think was the fourth time in three days, they do do the best coca tea. We met some very interesting Irish lads in there. One wanted to take Aisling as his wife, but it was his friend I found more interesting. This guy stood at our table for a good ten minutes and told us why the Celts were better than the Incas.
“It’s not that I wasn’t impressed with Machu Picchu, but, it’s been done”.
He then went on to say how the Celts in Ireland made Newgrange 5000 years ago, but the Incas only managed to make Machu Picchu in the last 700 years or so. He seemed to think people should be doing a four day hike up in Northern Ireland not out here in the mosquito ridden Andes.
While this guy stroked the egos of my three Belfast companions who already think Northern Ireland is better than the south, I looked around and contemplated how important nationality is in this travelling world. The first question we’re asked is ‘Where are you from?” and then people are grouped accordingly. We’re expected to drink til dawn, because we’re Irish. There’s loads of French people here but no one seems to talk to them, or else they don’t talk. Everyone loves people from Australia and New Zealand. The British all seem to be on package tours, I’ve yet to meet one out on their own. There must have been a sale on those in London recently. Every time a Peruvian walks in they’re pounced on. Talking to a real life Peruvian is a bit of a novelty up here in Cusco, there seem to be more tourist than locals. The Americans get the worst time of it. Every time a tourist with a massive camera, lightweight fleece and zip off pants walks past someone whispers “American”. And all anyone seems to want to talk about is the war.
Well that’s what we found ourselves talking about the following day at a post-white water rafting dinner, but seeing as it’s the dry season here it should be renamed ‘Quiet stroll down the river rafting’. At our table there were 3 Israeli guys, two US marines, a Peruvian, a Dutch man, a New Zealander, us four Irish, and a lot of English people I unfortunately didn’t spot sooner. I made myself instantly unpopular by being a little too over enthusiastic with my ‘No!’ when asked by the New Zealand guy if I was British. He became person No. 348 on this trip to hear about Ireland’s bid for independence, and why Jenny has a British passport but calls herself Irish.
A little further north of the Irish/New Zealand contingent the US marines and the Israeli’s were having a chat about what else but the war. Nothing too crazy seemed to be happening in what was just inside my ear shot, they all seemed to be agreeing on something which must be a good sign.
On the bus home that evening the war talk continued. Jenny was grilling one of the marines on why Peruvians are fighting for the US in Iraq. He was very willing to tell us all about it and how their families get $25,000 if they die so a lot of them are signing up. He said he didn’t know too much though because they’re not allowed socialise with them. But the poor lad was on his holidays so we all forgot our day jobs and just enjoyed the trip back to Cusco.
The rest of the week was spent lounging around, looking at colourdy hats. The other three headed to Machu Pichhu on the Monday and I became part of a very tiny group of tourists who visit Cusco but not the ‘lost city’ of Machu Pichhu. I did learn from them, however, that if one is not hiking the trail, a good way to see the sunset up there is to stay in Aguas Calientes and get the first bus up. They also missed the busy tourist time in the afternoon and didn’t waste time listening to a tour, just occasionally eavesdropped on other peoples!
I spent those two days practicing for my solo travelling by heading back to the Irish bar and making conversation with people. Damn it’s hard! I eventually retreated to my Harry Potter book and wrote in my diary, eagerly awaiting the return of the Belfastians.
Tags: 2 - Peru
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