Escuela cusqueña

As previously posted, I thought I might write about many things at the start of this blog but religious art wasn't one of them. In fact, even two days ago, as I was lonely planeting Cusco on the long and boring bus ride from Puno, I resolutely sneered at the idea of visiting the Museo del Arte Religioso, dismissing it as boring and altogether too churchy for my liking. I ticked the modern art museum instead.

But as things stand in this temple of tourism that is Cusco, if you do happen to do one or two churchy things here, like visit the impressive cathedral or the quirky church of San Blas, (which features a skull at the top of its pulpit), it pays to get a boleto religioso, which also grants you access to the religious art museum in the Archbishop's palace.

The building itself is very impressive but what is most fascinating is the blend of cultures and influences. The ceilings and doors are familiarly Arabic. The paintings are adorned in gold leaf embroidery, with saints towering in triangular formations like the Andean mountain gods that their shape alludes to. Snippets of Inka culture creep into the icons, such as coca leaves and farming tools. The colours are peaceful, cheerful even, and quite unlike the sombre Byzantine palette that (unknowingly) I have got so used to. I am mesmerised.

Perhaps I should not pre-judge so easily.

Malabar

Ever since I started reading the extraordinarily lavish and complimentary descriptions of Peruvian cuisine and the gastro scene in Lima in the lonely planet (ie on my 12 hour flight here) I got a bee in my bonnet and wanted to try one of the city's celebrated restaurants.

Unfortunately there s one thing I don't like about Limeños' food habits and that's that they generally skip dinner. So getting last minute dinner reservations at the few restaurants that are actually open for dinner can be quite a challenge. My perseverance paid off and my broken Spanish to my astonishment got us a table at one of Lima's most experimental joints: Malabar.

We started with cocktails that were subject to multiple tastings by the ever discerning barman. They were worth the wait. As was the scallop ceviche in cucumber broth - how can cucumber taste so interesting? Cono's corn tamales was like the distant posh cousin of a mexican appetiser, while dessert woke me up with an explosion of passion fruit ice cream hidden underneath a dark chocolate shell that melted away as the waiter poured hot caramel sauce infused with pisco (the local liquor of choice). And the damage? £30 a head.

This is why I've been obsessing about the worthiness of food calories to be consumed. With so many exquisite choices (and I suddenly find myself using that word a lot in the context of food) where should one eat in such limited time?

Postscript: You must be wondering how chocolate or ceviche ended up looking like that. The amazing duck above was actually consumed at the lovely Museo Larco in Lima. Unfortunately I failed to capture the food at Malabar. I blame the taste explosion.

Mr Jernando

After rejecting a taxi for the benefit of a cheaper fare, we saved ourselves 3 soles (60p) but also had the good fortune of meeting who is to be surely remembered as the first memorable character of our trip - Mr Jernando, the taxi driver. In a 15 minute ride across Lima he took it upon himself to teach us the ins and outs of the city's main thoroughfares and traffic patterns. Fiercely proud of his city and eager to inform and educate the hapless tourist he extracted out of us every last inch of Spanish we could utter. He even managed to communicate to us that he was once a ministerial chauffeur (part of his 28-year stint as a taxi driver); prior to that he was a technician on a Peruvian submarine.

We didn't appreciate at the time what a rare character he'd be, for although taxi drivers and people generally have been very friendly, noone has put in so much effort to make conversation with us and make us feel welcome as the enthusiastic Mr Jernando.