Christmas in Cusco is strange. There are the panettone, but there smell of Christmas. There are Santas hanging terraces, but you do not feel observed and not makes you want to be good. There are Christmas trees, but the red balls of Coca Cola, which can also leave the sponsored by Santa on red, but not on the balls, of which, of grace, we are equipped to be long before you came. A Cusco Christmas is strange because there is no midnight mass with the bells of St. Marti no to that tripped Brozzi happy, but there are several during the afternoon and the bells nobody does cas o.
A Cusco Christmas is weird because 24 people are on the road until late, and one of the Italic urban phenomena that takes place just upsets me most during the afternoon on Christmas Eve and is emptying the streets, highways, the state of Streets, the streets, the squares, the alleyways, shops, offices, all in a range that goes from 15 to 18. The cities and their vacuum. with us at Christmas everyone seems to have a home and family where to run. With us, more generally, on Christmas it is recommended ntano a lot of nonsense and ears, the sound of bells rintontite flying reindeer, and eyes, dazzled by the colorful wrapping paper and cabinets full of glitter and lights are particularly pr or think believe everything they hear and see. Without asking any questions.
In Cusco, however, we said, no leaks, no Racing, nothing vu oto, nothing. In Cusco the day, so 24 is a rather strange beginning on 23.
On 23 ago, in fact, starting from Marcavalle, in the southeast of the city, about 10 minutes drive from downtown, find a taxi to take you to the Plaza de Armas is a business. Find a standard rate (3 soles), is pure utopia. Even if you have no one stops and MasterCard are a saint when you fa'r please bring at least in the neighborhood do not know that in return you will be the cagotto for your birthday. But that's another story ia
. On 23 afternoon, the taxi does not take you to the center because everything is closed. Small groups of men and women armed with paint brush and draw small rectangles on the pavement of the Plaza de Armas to assign - no one knows what the second criterion - the open for the market the next day.
Meanwhile it comes and peeps in the square. Exactly. The market of 24 arrived in Cusco on 23. Down from the mountains, comes from the valley, already has his feet s pigs and scratched for the Gio and some travel rta loads on the shoulders of children quiet and full of tupperware soup, corn, corn toasted in various forms, some blankets for the night and of course, c hiss where to place the goods the next day.
The market for the Eve of the Plaza de Armas is one of the greatest attractions of Cusco Navideño. Tourists are fascinated and Cusqueño yourselves and most of the time do not allow to escape their clutches a crib in style Arequipeño ( funny figurines chubby where the ox and ass are often replaced the more typical llama and alpaca), herbs various types of vegetation to create imaginative across Nascimientos, candles, fires fireworks, matasuegras (these parts of our rauda are called "killer "...) in-law and a missed bag Palo Santo incense disturbing sold as logs typically smell the smoke fills the streets and the interiors of the city during the Christmas ceremonies.
So, to such an event is necessary for adequate preparation and merchants coming from outside is not the case and it is safer to delay arriving in town the night before. The Plaza de Armas, said, however, is closed. Therefore, those who come from the countryside, with their loads of herbs, dolls, posts, must approach the sides of the square, huddled quietly somewhere (when it goes well below the last free corner of a porch is not haunted by some zealous police batons) and wait, and rude under the curious eyes of passersby.
And if the wait is annoying by nature, it is much more than the spending the night in the Andes at 3500 m eters sea level, during what er Caliph comment " and call it summer, "and because of ical picture has really only the name anagrafe. A Cusco Christmas is weird because in accordance with any other weirdness you'd expect to pass at least in the company of the sun vertical Equatoria, whereas cold as in Italy, epporcamiseriaporca.
And there are those who pass on the street. This cold and unromantic Andean night. No, no. No paseo among trendy clubs. No tour mohito Los Angelitos 7, no detour to the Roots or Mama Africa. No hippies who waits for the Yankees ahead in the arms of the Andes. Nothing. Only ice and little sleep. Just silence and expectation. Wait and hope. I hope. But then, I think, behind the eyes of someone who has cold is not so easy to read. His hopes are not your expectations and when ever coincide?
The good thing is though that the night passes veil
there in Cusco and the market rises early to sist 
EMARS in this day of grace, effort and money, in this installment of a routine that when you walk in the middle seems so exotic, but only because you still blocked nose from Christmases past and just can not contemplate that this little ssa be the normal simplification of formalities. U na normal. The market rises and finally starts to do his duty, to carry out its task of croc Evia, d
the bass drum, a comedor, a meeting place and exchanges of smiles and disappointment, began to scream and not stop, light up the stakes saints incense permeates the air already dall'indecente rarefied height, the "right mami with p Romis " rise to the sky and are almost a cry, almost a liberation, as a pre Inti Raimi, a celebration of the sun god who blesses the open after a night spent in the same way the good will and vague, the hopeful and routine, the resigned and the jerks, the hungry and sleepy, the Quechua and the gringos, and sharp operators tricking idiots. All there in the same turbine, to make this long tour ahead, all together to not feel alone anymore nor far away, to remember and to banish the memories and laugh and wipe away some tears fraudulent, towards fulfilling the commitments for friends secrets, TARE to expect a bed, or dinner, or a hug, or a stove, or only 20 soles to put more in his pocket, that after such a grind, it would seem the least. 
By day, then, also the eve of the feast grease retires reluctantly and few hours of breathing the apparent also gives the strange atmosphere of the Na vidad cusqueña . But it is a false truce, because the real triumph is boiling in the bowels of the houses, ready to explode an hour before midnight, and finally give a place in high society event Navideño also elusive matasuegras their relatives and fireworks.
So, an hour from midnight Cusco catches fire: every barrio starts to shine its light, the city resume de screamed as before and more than before, while fireworks worthy the most magnificent court Mandarin illuminate each of the mountains that wrap not the ancient Inca capital. While supplies last, until the rocket matasuegra matato enough and did not, until the Christmas marathon is not long enough to be called finished and you can finally take a breath on this new, ordinary and crazy feliz Navidad.
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