Best Things to Do in Cusco
Just the other day, I was sipping a pretty steep coffee — honestly, more like a shot of adrenaline than a warm pick-me-up — trying to organize my memories of Cusco. That city is one of those rare places that hits you differently; I mean, it really knows how to pull at your heartstrings. If you're curious about the best things to do in Cusco, settle in, because this is going to be more of a ramble through my experiences than a polished guide.
This spot? Total surprise.
So, here's the weird thing: I didn't really plan well for this trip. Like, at all. You know when you think you've got it sorted and then you find yourself wandering around with zero sense of direction? Yeah, that was me. I'll admit, at first, I was a bit overwhelmed by the traditions and the sheer thrill of the place. I remember landing in Cusco, the altitude like a slap in the face, making me question my life's choices — like, who thought it was a good idea to fly at such an elevation? But then, I stumbled upon this tiny, hole-in-the-wall café called La Bodega 138.
I don't know why I ended up there. Maybe it's because I was too dazed to realize I had missed my original destination. But honestly? Best mistake ever. The moment I walked in, the scent of fresh bread and cinnamon hit me like a hug from an old friend. The rustic décor, mismatched chairs, and locals chatting away made me feel at home instantly. I ordered a slice of their cinnamon roll, which might've been the lightest most divine thing I ever tasted. Sometimes you just find magic in places where you least expect it. That sweet, sticky roll was the highlight of my first day and a surprising kick-off to exploring the best things to do in Cusco.
The afternoon that changed my whole mood
And then there was that one afternoon. I had planned to visit Sacsayhuamán, you know, the impressive Incan ruins that everyone raves about. I was all set with my camera, feeling a little glamorous, ready to capture the historical grandeur. But guess what? The hike up was brutal, and about halfway, I felt like my legs might just take a revolt. I sat down on a rock, fistful of coca leaves in one hand and my phone in the other, totally ready to throw in the towel.
But then something unexpected happened. While I was sitting there panting and questioning my entire fitness regime, I struck up a conversation with a couple of local teens who were also taking a break. They were so friendly, bursting with enthusiasm for their culture and history. Honestly, I wasn't expecting much from my little detour, but they ended up sharing incredible stories about the ruins and their own fascination with the place. And before I knew it, my doubts faded away. I found myself laughing as they playfully argued about which one of them could run faster to the top.
This sort of connection, this tangible exchange of energy — it turned a really hard part of my day into something reminiscent of wandering down memory lane with old pals. When we finally decided to tackle the hill again, we raced to the top like a bunch of kids—and in that moment, I was a kid again, full of laughter and exhilaration.
I almost missed this, no thanks to my bad sense of direction
But then again, not everything went as planned. One day, I thought I would take a leisurely stroll to the Plaza de Armas. Sounds simple enough, right? Wrong. My sense of direction isn't even remotely reliable. Somehow, I ended up wandering through the back alleys of San Blas. At first, I felt that familiar tinge of anxiety creeping in. Was I lost? Was I going to end up in a sketchy neighborhood? But instead of despair, the narrow streets began to unveil this unexpected charm. There were vibrant murals, artisan shops, and locals selling handmade jewelry. All these little treasures I wouldn't have encountered if I had just stuck to the tourist paths.
I found this one shop selling handmade textiles — every piece seemed to tell a story of its own. I ended up chatting with the owner, an older woman whose fingers were quick and nimble as she weaved. She had that warmth about her, like a grandparent, and we talked about her family's legacy in textile-making. I didn't intend to, but I walked out with a beautiful blanket that seems to carry a piece of her spirit. It was one of those accidental finds I'll cherish forever.
A meal that left a strong impression
Now, let's talk about food because wow, the culinary adventure! I had this rather adventurous evening at a restaurant called Chicha, owned by celebrity chef Gastón Acurio. I went in thinking I'd grab a standard meal, but oh man, I couldn't have been more wrong. I ended up ordering a dish called cuy chactado — which, yeah, is roasted guinea pig. I honestly had no idea what I was getting into.
When it arrived, I nearly gasped. There it was, whole and beautifully laid out. After a moment of hesitation (and a tiny bit of moral questioning), I dove in. I don't know how to describe it; it was like this insane mashup of crispiness and tenderness, seasoned in flavors I couldn't pinpoint but embraced all the same. It was weirdly enlightening, pushing me to explore my own comfort zones. Plus, I had this incredible side of pachamanca potatoes that just stole my heart.
Wrapping Up My Thoughts
So, as I'm sitting here with my coffee and reflecting back, Cusco certainly wasn't what I expected. It was messy, chaotic, beautiful, and profoundly moving. The best things to do in Cusco, for me, were the unexpected moments. I didn't just visit a city; I connected with it, felt its pulse, and discovered a side of myself I didn't know was missing.
Eventually, all my travels become stories that I carry with me, like warm stones in my pocket. And Cusco? It handed me stones I never wanted to let go. I find myself sipping this last bit of coffee, caught in the fuzz of nostalgia already, but hey, isn't that the beauty of travel?
