This morning we left Cusco and our luggage at Gran Hotel Machu Picchu again, after a phonecall to the UK to argue with my bank to allow me withdraw my own money outside the UK (mental note, let the bastards know in advance next time!). We took a colectivo for a hair-raising drive to Ollantaytambo with the world’s most time-conscious colectivo driver, who overtook all comers and hurtled around hairpin bends as if evading the law.
We quickly found a modest place to stay, owned by an elderly Quechan man who entertained us for ages explaining local myths and features in the cliff-faces and ruins which surrounded his family-run hostel (complete with bed bugs). After the rain eased, we ventured out to explore the lush and peaceful Ollantaytambo village, built next to towering Inca ruins and terraces.
flowering catcus in Ollanta
After our walk we had dinner with some locals, who were glued to a b-grade horror film hilariously dubbed into Spanish. I had my first taste of the ubiquitous chicken broaster, which went down well at the time but left me with a rumbling tum afterwards. We ended the vening at the Hearts Cafe - a great project started by a 76-year old british woman to help the local children and old people in dire poverty.
Glorious Ollantaytamba Village and fortress ruins
Good luck offerings on the roofs in Ollanta
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