Mom and I started our six-day trip to Peru a bit unsteadily. Severe symptoms instantly set in upon arrival in Cusco; the altitudes were dizzying. The tension of mother and daughter traveling together had set in days ago; the attitudes were unraveling. We found a cab, checked in our hostel — and slept. The two hours rest and a hearty meal did some good, but it took two days for everything to settle. In the meantime, we shoved it all aside and started on our way to Machu Picchu after just one night in Cusco. We returned to the ancient city at the end of our tour of the region to really explore the capital of the Inca Empire.

We skipped most of the tourist-ready highlights and instead spent our days talking to the locals. They recommended their favorite restaurants, which we dared to try, and gave us tours through their traditional gringo-free markets. In just days, I fell in love with the tender-hearted Peruvian people and their rich culture.

A snapshot of Cusco, Peru: Ancient architecture with hand-carved details stands on 15th-century foundations in the heart of the archaeological capital of the world. Cusco, the longest continuously inhabited place on the continent, is bursting with history — in the cobblestone of maze-like streets, in the brick of towering churches that took a century to build, in the houses that still stand from the Inca’s era, in the faces of the local indigenous tribe. A clash of ancient tradition with modern tourism, the city is dazzling with colorful costumes in parades and bronze statues in plazas among the busy produce markets and souvenir sellers. A lofty 11,000 feet above sea level, Cusco holds strong as the once-capital of the Inca Empire, now-tourist mecca.

The city’s main square. Photo by Melissa Fryman

About 70 percent of the city’s population are indigenous of the Quechua tribe, or mestizo, a mix of indigenous and Spanish heritage. Quite honestly, it’s how I pictured South America, a poverty level far from what’s across the more-developed Chilean border where I live. The poverty is so widespread, other economic classes seemed non-existent.

“Over half of Peruvians live below the poverty line, and unemployment is so out-of-control it can’t be measured,” according to Lonely Planet.

Mothers peddle jewelry as they lug babies in colorful slings on their backs. The elderly, who look as if they can’t remember their last bath, beg on every corner. Others, more able yet still hunchback, haul sacks of potatoes (Peru has more than 2,000 species). Many children, dressed in ratty clothes that don’t fit, wander the streets unattended all afternoon; when asked, they simply say their parents can’t afford to send them to school because even the public institutions require a fee far too expensive. The more fortunate, dressed in matching school gear of khaki and blue, learn dance steps with their classmates in the plaza.

In spite of hard times, the entrepreneurial spirit shines through their friendly smiles. With paintings, hats and crafts, they try to woo buyers in broken English they learned solely on the streets of the tourist mecca. Their eyes glimmer with a sort-of sorrowful hope,  a longing sharp enough to break your heart.

Rosa, 28, and Jaron, 1

Sebastian, 60

Edu, 1, and Brian, 6

I think it is that care-giving culture that prompted two Peruvian police officers to point us toward the main plaza when we apparently looked out of place covering our noses from the stench of a corner meat market. When I explained that we wanted to stroll through the local market, one offered to give us a tour in what he described as a place not too many gringos venture.

Pig heads and hoofs covered tables in piles, whole chickens hung by their necks, cow intestine strips dangled from hooks and alpaca eyes glared above their lifeless tongues. It was all raw — exposed — in the afternoon heat.

Our reaction was surely a spectacle in itself: two gagging gringos with a police escort who couldn’t stop laughing. The local vendors played it up, pulling tongues out of animal heads for a more dramatic “dead” look in our photographs.

Us with our police tour guide, Reinaldo.

Who’s not eating chicken after this?

Yum!

So, what’s for dinner?

We followed some locals’ advice and headed down the road to a popular restaurant, vowing to only order vegetarian. Instead, the waitress brought us the full-course “set menu of the day” for less than $5. It was, of course, full of mystery meat. The mystery being that Peruvian foods are not on Chilean menus and are in turn Spanish words I don’t comprehend. But — it was tasty.

The main course, also served with a potato-type appetizer, soup and gelatin dessert.

In many cultures, the indigenous people are oppressed, isolated from their peers who enjoy far more rights. In Peru, the indigenous Quechua (more popularly known as Incas) are celebrated. Living in the capital of the Inca Empire, they proudly wear their heritage like a badge of honor. Peruvian and Incan flags fly in tandem, a symbol-of-sorts for strong brotherhood, acceptance and peace. There, on the streets of the little, developing Peru, I found hope for a more united world in our future.

Peruvian flags hanging next to Incan flags above every doorway.

—JDF