I thought that title might grab people's attention... the fact is that I have developed a new vice here in Cusco. As anyone who knows me is well aware, I do have a bit of a girly thang for buying lots of shoes. Unfortunately, this is not something I can do very easily on this trip because shoes are heavy to lug around and there really isn't much room left in my rucksack for impulse buys. I have, however, found the perfect solution... this week I have treated myself to a colourful and impressive range of Peruvian hats.
The excuse I am offering is that when I reach my next stop, New Zealand, it is going to be winter so I'll need some warm headgear and that is how the whole thing started. Having invested in a woolly pixie hat with protective earflaps and a jolly llama design, I found I just couldn't stop myself. The next hat was a multi-coloured confection with a jaunty brim which looks as though it was knitted by a colour-blind, arthritic grandma, but I love it... Well, the people I meet on this trip don't live in Reading so if they think I have to be surgically separated from inappropriate headgear, it doesn't really matter very much, does it?
My other new vice is a serious addiction to the mad artist I met at the weekend. Although it was with some reluctance that I took him up on his offer to adopt me and show me Cusco, I have not regretted my decision for one instant. El Ultimo Inka, as he insists on calling himself, has not only helped to improve my Spanish by gently correcting my stumbling and error-strewn speech but he has also shown me little corners of Cusco which have managed to resist the surging tide of gentrification in a bid to appeal to the swarms of tourists.
I think I can sum him up best by describing what happened the other evening when we were walking back to the "arty" squalor of his flat. He insisted we made a slight detour to see a friend of his so I dutifully trotted behind until we came to a church. In the dusky gloom of a little square in front of the church was a tiny garden surrounded by a white fence and a number of benches where several courting couples embraced against the cold. I looked around in vain for his friend, hoping we were not about to break up one of those embraces, but instead he ignored the benches and led me to the garden. Right in the middle of the overgrown little plot was one brave marijuana plant, which he had planted a short time before. Apparently, Cusco is a bit cold for marijuana, but he decided to see if this one symbolic plant could survive and he goes on a daily pilgrimage to check on his progress. Something in that really appealed to me - I don't know if it was the cheeky defiance of the church or the touching faith in the triumph of hope over adversity - but that was what convinced me I had found a kindred spirit here in Cusco.
This last week has been quite emotional. Although my six weeks have passed quickly, I feel as though I have lived here for ages and the friendships I have formed, particularly with Palmyra in my house and with El Ultimo Inka, have become important. It has also been madly hectic as I have been enjoying some of the events of the week-long festival of artists against capitalism. I don't know if my Spanish is to blame, but the political significance of some of these events went whooshing over my head but still, it has been fun and I genuinely believe that the only thing which could have improved it would have been if I had had the power to transport some of my crusty Telegraph-reading friends here to see how they would cope with all this earnest Peruvian idealism. Oh well...
