7th September - Puno to Cuzco

Up early next morning (again), and we walked around to the train station. As usual, there was a little confusion about what exactly was happening with the baggage (it isn't immediately obvious that having entered the station to leave your luggage at the baggage check that you would need to leave the station again to go in a different door to the passenger area). Anyhow, we survived it and waited in the waiting room to be called (there was only one platform and one train at the station (I think it was the only one that left that day!) so there couldn't be too much confusion). We had suspicions that we might be onto a good thing when we spotted one train attendant in a bow tie.

We were eventually called and pointed to the Inca Class coach B. We entered to find something not unlike the Orient Express! The carriage was wood paneled, every table was set with a table cloth, linen serviettes, silver cutlery and lots of glasses. We were escorted to our bone fide armchairs and settled into the luxury of the carriage.

As it transpired, no-one else got on board the carriage and so we could be as noisy (and smelly) as we liked. We ordered lunch on the train and then set about relaxing into the trip. At about the half way point, the other train coming from Cusco passed us and we remembered that there was a bar and conservatory at the back of A carriage. We explored this and marveled at the scenery as it rattled and bounced past.

After lunch, we played some card games and there was also a stop for everyone to get out at the highest point in the journey and where I got some more presents for my family. Following this, we headed down the hill into Cusco. As dusk approached, I headed to the toilet. For some reason, the light in the toilet didn't work and, distracted with the light-switch by the door, I forgot to lock the door. Of course, some little lady from A coach then decided to use the B coach toilet and was half in before she discovered me sitting in the dark with my pants around my ankles. I'm not entirely sure which of us was more embarrassed, but I suspect she was in a much deeper state of shock!

We arrived into Cusco late, just before 7pm. Given that the SAS office was due to close at 7pm, I gave them a telephone call to let them know we were on our way. They explained that it wasn't a problem and that they would keep the office open until we arrived.

After a short stand in the rain, we retrieved our luggage and exited the station. We found a minibus with a German girl and a French Canadian girl on board and we set off to the Plaza de armas. On arrival, we stumbled around until we found the SAS office and then collapsed in a heap inside their office. We explained the problem Jamal had with his passport and they reassured us that it wasn't a problem for the trek and that they would call the embassy for us and fax through any documentation they required. They also suggested we try the Cross Keys as the guy who owned it also was the British consulate in Cusco! We decided this was a good idea but went first to the Hostel.

There was some confusion even in the plaza about where the hostel was, but the taxi driver seemed confident he knew were he was going and so we started up the hill, all 6 in one taxi again! We stopped on a road up a hill behind the plaza and it was obvious the taxi driver wasn't entirely sure of the exact location of the Hostel. He made a few enquiries over a wall with some locals and I leapt out to have a look. Convinced we weren't far away and that he was about to start down a steep road, I decided I was just as happy running alongside. Sure enough, he rolled back down the hill and then turned right down a stupidly steep little cobble-street road. He slowly let himself down the hill before trying to turn right into a side street. Unfortunately, due to the weight of the car and the sudden change from steep decline to steep incline, the car kept grinding against the road and getting stuck. Eventually, he gave up and pointed that the hostel was only just up the street. Two middle aged ladies who spoke superb English accosted us and led us to the Hostel. It transpired they worked for the said hostel and also sold tours.

The little old lady who ran the hostel seemed both deaf and senile and explained that we couldn't have a room for 6 as it was reserved. Even when we explained that we had reserved it, we still couldn't have it and we ended up in 2 rooms of 3. We made a quick pit-stop before heading back down the hill into town. After a quick glance at the Internet, we headed on down to the Cross Keys pub.

While ordering some food and drinks, we sadly learnt that the guy we were after was in England and so we ended up not seeing him, still the atmosphere was good and so we stayed for a while before returning to the Internet café for another blast on the old e-mail. Afterwards, we returned to the hostel and while Mr Croll did request that the lads move to one room and the girls another, the photographic evidence shows that this might have just been a cunning bluff to make us think that he didn't really want to be in the same bedroom as the girls...