For those Caversham (and ex-Caversham) types perusing this blog and flinching at my grammatical errors, I thought I should start this entry by describing the conditions in which I write. First of all, there is an Internet place on every corner in central Cusco, but most of them are tiny little rooms at the back of shops where 10 computers are crammed into a space that the BBC health and safety people would insist is not large enough for one. Enforced intimacy while writing a blog and how to deal with it is not covered by any of the etiquette books I have ever read, so I tend to keep my elbows firmly by my sides and my legs closed (which is the default position for every nice gal who goes travelling!)
OK, so now I´ve excused my writing, I´ll try to paint more of a picture of my daily routine here in Cusco. I have to say that it is very much an early to bed-early to rise existence here, coupled with no boozing and healthy eating - in other words, a Peruvian health boot camp for this jaded and previously somewhat debauched 40-something.
Monday to Friday I have four hours of classes a day and this week I am on mornings, which means an 8am start. I am one of those irritatingly exuberant morning people, so that does not bother me unduly, but all the schoolchildren in Peru are heading for their schools at the same time, so on my 20-minute walk to school I have to wade through hordes of the swarming creatures. They all sport immaculate uniforms, with the girls in pinafores, blazers and matching socks and the boys all suited, booted and wearing ties.
Apart from the mini-scrums outside the school gates - and believe me, there must be about 5 schools on the short stretch of road between my flat and the Spanish school - the other major hazard of the walk into school is the pollution. The minibuses which flow continuously along this main avenue are packed to the rafters and there are clearly no emissions controls on vehicles in Cusco. Some mornings the combination of pollution and altitude can leave me gasping as though I had chainsmoked 20 Gauloises before leaving the house.
Still, these are minor irritants and most of the time I enjoy wandering the streets of Cusco, people watching while sipping my coffee in one of the cafes downtown and scoring minor victories like managing to use my Spanish to change the date on my ticket to Lima without reducing the sales assistant to helpless hysterics.
Although Cusco is a tourist town, it is easy to avoid the haunts frequented by hordes of foreigners and the generally conservative and shy Cusqueños are unfailingly polite, helpful and unfazed by mad Englishwomen on a mission to learn their language.
