Qosqo

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Peel away all the tchotchky souvenir shops, all the tour agencies, all the backpacker restaurants (many, oddly, attempting to entice an Israeli clientele), the massage parlors, and all the other trappings of a tourist trap, and Cuzco reveals itself as an utterly fascinating case study in colonial domination. The current city is literally built on the ruins of the original Qosqo, the imperial capital of the Inkas. (History nerd alert: it is a misnomer, actually, to call the people of the empire as a whole "inkas" - the term Inka really only applies to the kings. The Inka Empire, as we call it, was actually known as Tawantinsuyu - the "Four Regions" - in Quechua.) Churches and colonial palaces were built on the distinctive walls of the inkan temples and residences the Spaniards destroyed. You turn down a narrow alley and you are surrounded by the ghost stones of the ancient city.

But there is much of the Inka that seems alive now. There is a resurgent pride in Quechua, the language of the empire and the current language of many highland peoples (at least as a second language). Street and place names are being Quechua-ized left and right. Even the vibrant Catholic religious festivals - I happen to be in town for the Festival of the Virgen del Carmen - seem to owe much more to indigenous traditions than Christianity. Brightly clothed and masked characters dance and tumble in front of the rocking platform holding the barbie doll-esque virgin (kitted out in a mountain of an embroidered dress). Onlookers and participants both drink chicha (corn beer), either original or the new fangled strawberry flavor (a favorite of my hiking companions!). I could imagine a similar scene in the pre-Spanish days of the Inkas glory days.

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