The Cusco Incident

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I spontaneously decided to see Machu Picchu in my remaining time in Peru and packed a backpack before heading to the bus station. I arrived in Cusco at 6am Monday morning.

I intended to stay at my friend Billy’s hostel, where I stayed when I was in Cusco last year.  My taxi driver – Lenin – immediately started selling me his own hostel.  He asked how much I was paying at Billy’s place.  I answered an absurdly low number: 15 soles / night ($4.69).  He told me he would give me a private room and bathroom for that price.  I told him I’d think about it.  As we were passing Billy’s hostel, I noticed it seemed closed so I told Lenin the Taxi Driver that I’ll stay at his place.

While checking in and getting my key, I noted this hostel was a shithole.  No matter, the price was right.  Before taking a nap, I locked the deadbolt to my room with the key.  I slept for three hours or so.  I woke up and got some things together to go see Cusco and buy tickets to Machu Picchu.

When I tried to unlock the door, my key wouldn’t unlock the deadbolt.  This same key that locked the deadbolt was turning round and round but the deadbolt was not moving.  I was locked inside my room.  As I noted earlier, this hostel was a shithole and I could see that this door’s lock was also a piece of shit.  In Peru, doors have these large metal boxes for locks and door handles.  I saw that I could probably pry this metal box far enough off the door so that the deadbolt would come free from the wall.

First I banged and banged on the door in hopes someone downstairs would hear me.  I banged and banged and banged and nobody could hear me since I was on the third floor.  So I went to work on this metal box.  I pried and banged and pried and worked on the door for five minutes or so until I had bent the metal box back far enough that I could open the door.  The lock was bent into complete worthlessness.

I went downstairs with all my things to find Lenin’s little brother and sister (they manage the place while he’s driving his taxi and recruiting guests) watching TV. I told them my lock was broken and I want a new room.  The boy gave me a new room and I went out to see Cusco.  I decided that there was no way in hell I was paying for that lock and I would leave the hostel if Lenin tried to make me pay.

I took a city tour for 20 soles ($6.25).  I was skeptical that the tour could last four hours like they said at the tourist agency.  How much stuff was there to see?  The bus first brought us to Qorikancha – the Santo Domingo of Cusco Convent.  The tour guide went into long, boring explanations of absolutely everything and I realized how this tour could take four hours.  There were some cool paintings, so it was worth the 10 soles to get in.

I wondered how many more places on the tour would charge to get in.  I paid for a 20 soles tour, and that’s really all I wanted out of this tour. Next we went to Saksaywaman, which I had already seen last time I was in Cusco.  This entrance was 40 soles.  I opted to stay on the bus with the driver.  After all, Saksaywaman isn’t much more than a bunch of big rocks.

After an hour, the group came back to the bus and we drove to a different patch of rocks.  I learned that the 40 soles paid for the same ticket for these new rocks which I could clearly see from the bus.  They all went in and I asked the driver how many more of this tour’s stops cost money.  He said all the rest of the stops are included in the Saksaywaman entrance.  I asked him how I could get back down to the plaza if I want to skip the rest of the tour.  He pointed up a hill and said a taxi would eventually drop a tourist off at the entrance to Saksaywaman.  He also pointed down a hill at a forest and said I could walk.  Saksaywaman sits on top of a mountain and overlooks Cusco, seemingly quite a walk.  But that sounded cool.

I took off on foot into the forest.  I had a nice time and saw a lot more than I would’ve seen on the whack-ass tour.  I walked for five minutes through a forest of tall skinny trees and came upon the road thirty feet below a dropoff.  I spotted three peasant women sitting on a blanket and asked them how to get down.  They pointed me in the right direction and I continued my descent.  I came into a residential area with sidewalks instead of roads and passed through two or three neighborhoods until I had descended the mountain into the city.

I found my hostel.  I asked the little kids if they told Lenin about the lock.  No word.

I went back out and ate at Rosie O’Grady’s, the Irish bar that boasts the highest elevation in the world (so I’ve heard) and also owned my Maca’s family (Maca is Carlos’ baby’s mother and fiancee).  Maca’s cousin Heidi (Billy’s girlfriend) was managing.  She took me to a special office which services tourist agencies so I paid bottom dollar for my Machu Picchu tickets (about $150 altogether).

I went back to the hostel to shower before going out.  I asked the kids if Lenin had any news for me.  Nothing.  I paid the boy another fifteen soles for a second night.

After eating dinner, I bought some weed and went back to the hostel to roll it into joints.  The two front doors are always locked and a manager has to let people in and out.  I knocked and knocked and knocked.  Nobody answered the door.  I couldn’t get into my own hostel!  What a shithole.  I rolled one joint on the stoop in front, ringing the doorbell every five minutes or so.  It probably annoyed the other guests, who I could hear, but they couldn’t let me in because they don’t have a key.  I went to a restaurant and ate a second dinner just so I could inconspicuously roll joints on the table.

I smoked one on the way to the bars.  As I entered the first place, my jaw dropped as I took in the scene.  The dance floor was packed … with white people.  Wall-to-wall gringos.  Where the fuck was I?  Cusco.  I was stoned and had a beer while looking around at all these white people, which I am not at all accustomed to seeing.  Then I split because it’s not my scene.

I was out all night drinking.  I got back to my hostel around 4am.  I was supposed to wake up at 6am for Machu Picchu.

I woke up at 7:30 and panicked.  I definitely missed the train to Aguas Calientes.  I was worried I would have to buy new tickets ($150).  I packed a few things in my backpack and put on my Machu Picchu clothes.  My plan was to run to the office where I bought the tickets to see if they could do anything for me.

I ran downstairs and the two little brats said that I had to pay for that lock.  Lenin told them not to let me leave until I paid.  The girl was extremely annoying in how loud she kept yelling “Tienes que pagar por la chapa” and “Tu la rompiste.“  I told them I’m not paying for that lock and went back upstairs to get all my things.  I was activating my aforementioned plan of leaving the hostel.

I came back down and told them to let me out.  They said I had to pay for the lock first.  They called Lenin and he would be at the hostel in seven minutes.  All too familiar with Peruvian time, I set my phone alarm for exactly seven minutes.  I paced back and forth, fuming, wearing my backpack with all my things in it.

I had missed Machu Picchu. I was still quite drunk.  I only slept three hours.  And now I had to deal with this lock shit.  This all brewed a perfect storm of rage.  My plan was to stay close to the two glass doors and, when Lenin unlocked them to come in, I would push him out into the street and start yelling at him.  If he offered any resistance, I would knock him out in front of all his neighbors.

My alarm went off.  I told the little shit-sticks that seven minutes had passed and I was leaving.  They refused.  I told them I was going to throw their computer through the doors.  I grabbed the boy by his shirt and pushed him against the wall.  I obviously wasn’t going to hit a kid, but I wanted to scare him a little.  I grabbed the handle of the door while I said, “Si tu no abres esta puerta …” and I banged the door a little bit to make some noise …

And both doors shattered into hundreds of little pieces of glass (it was an accident!).  As soon as the last piece hit the ground, I leapt over the pile and sprinted down the street.  My backpack must have weighed at least 30 pounds (thanks in large part to my 965-page hardcover copy of The Snowball: Warren Buffett and Business of Life).  I turned after three blocks and sprinted two blocks uphill (Andes Mountains uphill).

I wasn’t running or jogging, but sprinting – on my toes, chin tucked, full-range arm-swinging.  Like a wide receiver after a reception in the backfield with a cornerback on his tail.  After five blocks, I slowed and started panting.  I needed water.  I needed to get off the streets.  I saw an old man sweeping the stoop of his hostel.  I asked him how much for a room.  35 soles ($10.94).  I’ll take it!

He showed me to my room, which was very nice.  This hostel was no shithole.  He even brought me a towel, toilet paper, and bar of soap.

I changed clothes and ran to the office where I bought my Machu Picchu tickets. I was super-paranoid of every police car. The lady who was supposed to meet me at the train station said she called my hostel and the kid who answered the phone said there was nobody by my name at the hostel.  Perfect!

The ladies in this office devised a way for me to change the date of the train ticket.  One of them went with me to the train station, where I was supposed to explain that I got robbed early that morning so I couldn’t travel.  I didn’t want to lie and felt nervous about it, but I pulled it off.  I acted like a dumb gringo who only speaks English.  It worked and they changed the date on my train ticket to the next day.  YES!  After leaving, I kissed the girl that accompanied me to the train station several times on the cheek and invited her and the other girl in the office to lunch later.

But now I had to worry about this whole Cusco Incident (the incident being me breaking a lock and two glass doors of a hostel and fleeing the scene).  Normally, I wouldn’t worry because I got away with all my stuff.  However, I gave my NAME and PASSPORT NUMBER when I checked in.

So Lenin had a description of me (I’m somewhat unique-looking) plus my name and passport number if he were inclined to have the authorities look for me.  While I have a good grasp about life and culture in Peru, I have no clue how police and the authorities work in Peru. Will they be looking for me?  Will they hold me at the airport if I try to leave the country?  Would they even care?  I needed to consult some Peruvians.

I emailed Carlos an abbreviated version of the story.  He replied right away saying it’s probably not a big deal but that I should get out of Cusco as soon as possible.  I met Ward in Cusco for lunch and he thought there was a good chance that Lenin didn’t even call the police.

I went back to Rose O’Grady’s and bought lunch for the two ladies who helped me.  Billy was there!  After the ladies left, I told him the story (over a few beers to calm my nerves).  Billy didn’t think it’d be a problem, but he did think that Lenin called the police and lied to them (leaving out that he was in effect detaining me illegally).  Billy said the police would probably look for me at the airport and main bus terminal over the next few days.  He recommended that I go to the Zorro Estación (the bus station for poor people) and catch a bus to Sicuani, a tiny pueblo two hours out of Cusco.  In Sicuani, there’s another terminal where I can catch a bus to Arequipa.  Billy said the police wouldn’t be looking for me at either of those stations.  A plan!

I went back to the hostel for a nap and worried that Lenin might check all the hostels in the area.  I used a fake name and no passport number at the current hostel.  But as I said, I am easily describable and my check-in time corresponds exactly with the Incident.  Then I realized I hope he does find me.  I want to knock him out just for putting me through all this.

Although I wanted to stay off the streets as much as possible, I took a long walk after my nap.  I passed through a peasant part of town, crowded with markets and poor indigenous people.  Arequipa has peasants, but nothing like Cusco.  Remember this was the Incas’ capital city.

That night I went out drinking.  I got so drunk I don’t remember much.  At one point, I was in a place with a live pseudo-rasta reggae / punk band.  I got a picture of us getting high.  At another point I told somebody trying to sell me drugs that maybe his mother’s for sale, I might be interested in that.  And then I was drinking at a table with three Germans when I didn’t like the tone from one of them.  I stood up on him, ready to scrap.  He didn’t want to.  And in some danceclub I was dancing salsa and twirling Peruvian girls, unfortunately too drunk to talk or do anything else.  When it was time for bed, I was too drunk to make the three-block walk home without stumbling and looking like a wasted idiot.  I had to sit down at a park bench in Plaza de Armas for ten minutes with my head in between my knees to muster up the energy to walk home normally.

I somehow woke up on time and went to Machu Picchu (separate post).  I’d planned to catch an overnight bus back to Arequipa afterwards but I was dead tired.  I paid for another night at the hostel and checked out the next day.

It was time to execute the plan and escape Cusco.  I ate at Rosie O’Grady’s again and talked with Maca’s cousin Paolo.  He told me about a collectivo service that goes to Sicuani.  If I took one of these shuttles, I wouldn’t even have to show my face at the Cusco bus station for poor people.

I took a taxi to the collectivo parking lot, an operation with five vans that leave once they fill up.  9 soles ($2.81) for a two-hour ride to Sicuani, and it arrives faster than the bus.

Billy was right: the authorities definitely wouldn’t be looking for me there.  Sicuani is the smallest, poorest little pueblo I’ve seen to date.  I get stared at in Arequipa, but I got stared at in Sicuani.  I imagine there are more speakers of Quechua than Spanish in this little town.  I had three hours to kill in which I ate and looked around.  I asked at five different places; none had cold beer.  Every single woman in the town had the custom pigtails, hat, dress, and blanket backpack (with or without baby inside).

The bus was just as poor and peasant as the town (but only 18 soles / $5.63 for a seven-hour bus trip!).  The family in front of me spoke in Quechua.  One woman in the family slept on the floor in the aisle, her feet directly to the right of my aisle seat.  We got to Arequipa around 3am.  I got away smooth!

Cusco Quick Facts:

  • I was originally going to call this post “You Don’t Have to See Cusco” and the Machu Picchu post “You HAVE to See Machu Picchu.”
  • Cusco is typical of tourist towns with little other industry (New Orleans pre-Katrina, Amsterdam, Las Vegas).
  • Everything is over-priced (compared to the rest of Peru).
  • There are a million and one ways to spend money and Cusquenos are good at getting you to spend it.  I was constantly hounded to buy snacks, shoeshines, massages, drugs, oil paintings, crafts, etc. etc. etc.  I said “No” no less than fifty times per day.
  • While it is over-priced, the food is EXCELLENT.
  • Saksaywaman isn’t worth it (it’s rocks!).
  • City tours aren’t worth it.  Here is a list of points of interest for you to do your own city tour:
  1. Museum of pre-Colombian Art
  2. Inka Museum
  3. Museum of Religious Art
  4. Musuem of Natural History
  5. Cathedral
  6. Triunfo Church
  7. Sacred Family Church
  8. La Merced Convent
  9. San Blas Church
  10. White Christ
  • If you went to Cusco and stayed around the plaza, briefly seeing Machu Picchu, you didn’t really see Peru.
  • If you really want to know the Cusco area / character, get back to Lima or Arequipa the same route I did (via Sicuani).

Conclusion: I think I need to give another run at sobriety.  I feel that, one of these days, I’m not going to come out on top.

Pictures

(other pics of the typical Cusco views on a different post)

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March 16, 2009 | Filed Under most popular, peru 

comments

7 Responses to “The Cusco Incident”

  1. Chris on March 16th, 2009

    Dude, haha, after reading this I think you may want to consider hopping on the wagon for a while.

    Good thing you got out of Cusco safely. Hopefully you won’t have trouble flying out of the country.

  2. Dave on March 16th, 2009

    Colin,

    You need to find yourself a good wingman!

  3. Ward Welvaert on March 18th, 2009

    Nice to know you made it “home” ok.

    I posted a few comments that might have been helpful, better late than never I guess:

    http://lifeinperu.com/2009/03/18/how-not-to-visit-cusco/

    We’ll have to meet up in Bogota some time!

  4. John in Peru on March 20th, 2009

    Yea, I got annoyed in Cuzco. I liked Trujillo best.

  5. matthew on March 21st, 2009

    this was great man!!! way to break the door jajjaja and the comment about gringos. its why im hesitant to go to cusco! i despise gringos

  6. Gavin Keaveney on March 23rd, 2009

    hahahaha.. nice move man, personally i’d be proud of trashing the dickheads hostel, but would be about as worried walking the streets!!! god i want to get back to peru… some sweet pics too!

  7. Hop Skip Jump Peru on December 27th, 2009

    High drama on the streets of Cuzco. You make some good points. Travelers who do the Lima – Cuzco – Nazca tango do not get to see the best of the country. It is worth taking the time to discover other sites in Peru. Peru is more archeologically rich than Egypt and boasts many amazing sites as well as having incredible biodiversity. Get out amongst it and spend time in other less touristy places and you will have a much better experience.

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