You can't do that

After a walk around the hotel square, I found a cafe serving a 'menu economica', under £2 for a 2 course meal - ceviche with sweet potato, and chicken drumstick and rice. This also included a free drink which I initially thought tasted like cooled down Lemsip, but, on a second tasting, decided may be lemon tea. However, being a much more seasoned traveller, having spent a whole week in Cusco and having survived an earthquake, I now know this to be a 'delicious' drink, mmm, made from maize. That was lunch. For my evening meal I had a 'postre' or pudding, a word I knew confidently enough to say, on its own, albeit with a questioning tone, to a man in a snack bar, who then accompanied me around the corner, leaving his counter and leading me to a tiny coffee shop playing Carpenters tunes where I was served with a piece of cake the size of Peru and a cappuccino. This was all very lovely and I felt proud that I had ventured out after dark on my own, but now I was tired and it was getting very close to my bedtime...

You may not be aware, but Peruvian drivers honk their horns. Peruvian police blow whistles to control the flow (or should I say chaotic deluge) of traffic. Peruvian people in the street make an Amazon Rainforest's variety of bird calls. However, I had come prepared; the earplugs and the sleep mask (a scarf) were more than sufficient to drown out the street noise and the light let in by half-width curtains but, what they were unable to cope with was the live band that began playing under my window at 12.45. Jet lag and a little courage were enough to make me venture downstairs to ask reception for a room change and I was in an interior room by 1.30am. The heavy, marble light-fitting above the bed, complete with fraying rope suspension and spy hole is not worth mentioning. What's the problem? I moved the bed.

'Plaza Major and around' was the destination for Friday morning. I never found the 'well worth a visit' Palacio Torre Tagle but it did provide me with a very interesting circular walk through a bustling area, strangely, via Coalville. There was a whole street full of tailors' shops where you could choose from the assorted cloths hanging from the roofs and walls and have a new suit to wear by the end of the day. I also learnt that Peruvian children don't use pushchairs. Their mothers carry them in brightly coloured cotton blankets slung across their backs, seemingly up to the age of five, their feet the only body parts visible, sticking out sideways as they are carried vertically. A tour around the church of St Francis was entertaining and not solely because of the eccentric version of English spoken by the guide. This included a library so antique, dusty and decaying that it was reminiscent of a scene from a Harry Potter film. Outside the church, a fantastic photo opportunity was provided by a large party of school children who very kindly shouted in unison to disturb the pigeons roosting on its walls.

Demonstrations and marches are a significant feature of Peruvian life, particularly in the central squares, the Plaza Major being no exception. The local police therefore need to 'man' the barricades, especially if said demonstration involves school children, when a special breed of patrol is needed - dogs in camouflage jackets. See picture of the leader of this patrol below, an old dog if ever I saw one, Trooper Napoleon Boneypart.

My final trip was to the Mario Testino Exhibition (MATE) in Barranco, a trendy suburb of Lima, approximately half an hour's drive away and involved a well struck deal between myself, the hotel concierge and a taxi driver. My 'personal chauffeur' had agreed to wait one hour on arrival at the museum and deliver me home safely afterwards. The incredible, hyper-realistic, floor to ceiling photographs of fashion models and celebrities in the main house were well worth the visit alone. Kate Moss had her own section, and photographs of Madonna, Gisele Bundchen and Gwyneth Paltrow adorned the remainder. I felt like Brad Pitt was in the room with me, although I must admit that I've never seen him out in a dirty shirt such as the one he was wearing here. Group photographs of the models with all the arty folk of note, Paul Smith, Tracey Emin and Leigh Bowery were in the final alcove. There was also, (the reason I spotted the exhibition) a small room containing photographs of people from Cusco, in traditional dress. The final photographs however, had the most dramatic effect. In her own separate 'house', on dove grey walls, lives the Princess of Wales, as she was in those famous last photos, just weeks before her death, smiling, barefoot, no jewels, just gorgeous gowns, including the one donated by Gianni Versace which was displayed in a glass case in the centre of the room.

Next stop Cusco, flight time 11.15 am...Read more