So we decided once in Cusco to crack on with booking our Machu Picchu tour as we know it may sell out and we wouldn't want to be caught short of the ultimate landmark in the whole continent. The "jewel" of South America. And a jewel it was, a bloody diamond by the price of it! Yes, an 'arm and a leg' later we were booked on a tour next day and were to be picked up at 4am. Passports, water and snacks, but not too many as they may get taken off us on entry.
Then we were given a t-shirt, now this is tragic - it's not like we are mad souvenir t-shirt collectors but one claiming that we had actually been there and seen this amazing landmark, a receipt, if you like, was given to us along with our ticket. We saw it and thought 'great, yeah, ladies fit, good colour, black, yep, there's the picture of MP...' and then bang, right accross the front in red lettering,
"I WOZ THERE"
Kill me now. Straight in the bin. Fuck sake. Why go to the effort to spell it like that?!
So we got picked up at 4am, our eyes bleeding from tiredness. Of course, Organized Dennis was ready by the door at 3.45am.
I donned my Lotitas, the trusty (but gay as fuck) hi top trainers I bought from Argentina, for one last cultural outing (sensible footwear was recommended) and we set off.
We sat in the front of a minivan and drove through the empty streets of Cusco, the driver pointing out nightclubs emptying the local wronguns heading to the Peruvian version of KFC, a woman on the corner selling chicken on a stick with a potato on the end and as we got out of town we started falling asleep. It was only when the music suddenly changed from soothing Peruvian folk music to Bangarang by Skrillex that we appreciated just how surreal the situation was panning out to be and at the same time how diverse the driver's music taste was, the dark 'orse. But there's nothing like a bit of commercial dub step at 4.30am on a Peruvian back street driving deep into the pitch-black, winding mountainous roads, with a van full of sleeping Asians to get you in the mood for a day out, is there?!
We arrived at the train station at 5.30am in time for the nicest train in the world with ceiling windows and the best bathrooms to chug us on our way. We were seated and, shortly after, the Peruvian David Walliams pranced down the carriage with coffee and treats for all. We slurped the coffee and tried to force-feed ourselves the massive bag of dried fruit and nuts we had bought from the market because we knew food was going to be expensive and we had that parent mentality of "we had better eat these because we've paid for them" in our heads. Sigh. I never want to actually be that person.
100 Brazil nuts later, the train docked and an army of Japanese grandparents got to their feet, grabbed their hiking sticks and diaembarked to do the inka trail. They must have had an octopus each for breakfast and had less wrinkles than Kerri and me combined.
A character from mortal kombat collected us to get our Machu Picchu ticket and transferred us into safe hands with mr "don't worry be happy", our tour guide. Yes that was his genuine advice when we expressed our concerns over some of the slightly less courteous members of the public.
We had to queue to get on a bus and there was a gaggle of Israelis (still don't know the collective term) and they were acting like naughty foreign kids (our activity leader mode had been activated as they were not waiting in a single file line as they had been instructed to do so). A vein popped in our necks and we told them to WAIT NICELY.
Again we were actually in the clouds. It's like someone's just put a stick up, with a hook on the end (a bit like a shepards hook or one you use to open a loft) and has pulled the clouds down really low. Fear of heights officially eradicated, thank you very much.
Noble city of 400 people. 'Nuff history.
So we took loads of photos and then looked at some llamas and laughed then a woman was standing behind me and going "oh wow" and Kerri was laughing so I asked (in a slightly mocking tone) "What are you wowing at?", and she replied "there's a Llama charging down the road behind you" so I moved, fast.
The tour was done by 10.45am giving us 8 hours til our train. It was raining hard so we decided a quick dash to the bus back would be a good option because the forecast was torrential rain, the road up was worse than the death road in terms of sheer drops, and there were lots of landslides and lots of tourists who would be wanting to go the same way. On the bus I curled up next to a Japanese grandma and was tired enough to have a quick dream about a boy with a bible asking me what to do.
We got to the little town, Aguas Calientes, and had time (did I mention 8 hours) to have Trout ceviche with free pisco sours and then went into a reggae shack which had a full size snooker table with not enough balls for the home-made triangle, no real floor but ironically had rugs and carpets hanging on the wall for sale. Then the owner went out for a spiff then came in and cronked up the volume of the tunes which included "don't worry be happy". Haha! Explains everything.
We finally got our train back which seemed to take forever, and at this point we were super super ruined after being up since 3.30am! Yeah another poorly organized tour (cheap tho!) and on the bus ride back, It was my turn to have a Chinese woman asleep on my shoulder in the van. I wonder if she had a dream. 
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