Cusco caught me off guard… and thank God for that

I honestly never thought I’d write this. Especially not while sitting on a worn wooden bench, sun burning the side of my face, and this weird smell of wet dirt hitting me with childhood memories — except I’m not even in the same hemisphere.

Cusco wasn’t in my plan. Or maybe it was, but definitely not like this.
You ever romanticize a place? You scroll through photos, read travel blogs, add things to some “top 10” list. And then you get there… and everything feels kind of… staged. Instagrammed. Like you’re walking into someone else’s trip.

That’s exactly how Peru felt. Until I stopped following the script.

The path I didn’t follow

I’d been in Chile and had just crossed into Tacna, Peru. The idea was to take things slow: eat good food, maybe buy a few things, keep it easy.
Then, one night, a German guy at the hostel (I think his name was Uwe?) said something weird:

“Stop Googling. The real stuff’s not online.”

I laughed.
But the next day, I listened.

Somehow I ended up on a long bus ride heading to Cusco.
No hotel booked. No tours. No pressure to “make the most of it.”
Sometimes not planning is the best kind of plan.

The moment something clicked

Cusco doesn’t rush you.
It’s like this soft background hum, half-colonial, half-Andean. Like a city that’s always almost awake — but never fully gets up.

I wandered around for hours until the altitude headache kicked in. Bought some boiled potatoes with spicy sauce (seriously, what’s with the spice levels?) and chatted with this señora selling coca leaves. She said I needed to make a homemade tea — “es bueno para el soroche,” she warned me.

After a few days, I didn’t want to leave.
I didn’t visit Machu Picchu that day. Not the next either. Not even sure I ever will.
And weirdly, I’m okay with that.

Because I found something else.

The smallest, strongest experience

There was this hand-painted wall on a random street corner. A sleeping dog. Dust. Nothing Instagram-worthy.

And a sign that read:
“We don’t sell tours. We share paths.”

I thought it was a joke. But I went in.

Inside, a guy with a Lima accent greeted me like I was a cousin or something.
He didn’t offer anything. No packages. No sales pitch.

He just asked me:

“What have you seen so far?”
“What did you like?”
“Do you know what fresh cacao smells like in Quillabamba?”

I said no.
Next morning, I was in a van with five strangers heading to a place that doesn’t even show up on Google Maps.

I’m not going to tell you everything. Some things are better left felt than explained.

But I will say this:
That day, I saw how cacao is made from scratch.
I walked knee-deep into a river with my pants still on.
And I ended the night eating rice with banana in the kitchen of a family who didn’t speak a word of my language — but somehow, we understood each other.

Why should you care?

Honestly, maybe you shouldn’t.
But if you’re planning on coming to Cusco, and you’re already kind of tired from reading the same 10 itineraries with the same 10 “must-sees”… maybe this helps.

You don’t have to do what everyone does.
It’s okay to pause. To go off-track. To talk to someone on the street. To choose something odd. Something real.
Something that doesn’t show up in search results.

If I could give you one piece of advice?
Look for people, not packages.

There are small operators here that don’t feel like agencies.
There are walks that don’t make it onto TripAdvisor.
There are nameless days that’ll stay with you forever.

That’s what I came for. And yeah, I found it.

P.S.

They told me that maybe, if I wrote about this, someone else out there like me would find them too.

So here it is, no pressure:
👉 www.inkajungletour.com

No glossy logos. No influencers. Just real people.
They’ll listen to you. And they’ll help you find your way.

Maybe you’ll need them.
Maybe you won’t.
But if you do find them — tell them J. says hi.