We were all down for breakfast at 6am. Once again none of us ate a lot, not even me. I only had scrambled egg with what I assumed was fried cassava yet tasted like parsnip.

An hour later we all met up back in the foyer to wait for our minibus to collect us and take us to the terminal of the Cruz del Sur bus company. It wasn't far, just around the corner from the Pachacutec monument, which this morning was facing us, wishing us a bon voyage or allin purinapaq, as he would have said in Quechan.

The terminal had the look and feel of an airport gate. It even had a small cafe, where we stocked up on snacks. Ahead of us was a non-stop eight hour journey across the plains of the alto plano to Puno.

Our tickets were good value at 51 sol each, just a little over £10, for a 240 mile trip.

We were here in plenty of time so after we checked in our luggage we sat down in the waiting area. There was a small altar in the terminal for those who wanted to pray for a safe journey. I could almost hear Julie's thought process arriving at "if people feel the need to pray ... then how safe are the roads?"

With ten minutes before departure we boarded the bus. We had been given the best seats on the bus, the front four seats on the upper deck. They were super comfortable, wide, reclining with a foot rest, like business class seats, plus we had uninterrupted views of the road ahead. 

At 8am precisely we set off, turning out of the bus depot into the narrow streets of Cusco. It seemed an odd place to have put a busy bus station but after a minute we were on the main road, leaving Cusco.

The route took us past the airport. As we were passing, a plane came into land. It made us realise how the runway was literally right in the middle of the city. The proposed new airport in the town of Chinchero made complete sense.

The ever expanding city continued as we drove through several villages, Where one ended and the other began wasn't always clear.

At Choquepata we were welcomed by a life-like statue of a woman carrying a tray of vegetables. I'm not sure of its significance but in the central reservation a few market stalls had set up, selling vegetables.   

At Huacarpay, where somewhere in the vicinity was a lake and the ancient ruined citadel of Pikillacta, we saw large stone structures.

They were known as Rumicolca. It's known they were built by the Wari people, a pre-inca civilisation between 500-900AD. But the question was, why?

Legend has it, and scientific opinion concurs, that it may have been an aqueduct to carry water from the lake to the citadel. Another suggestion, and perhaps both explanations are true, that they were built as ceremonial gates to the region.

As we continued beyond the border between the North and the South of the four realms the Inca Tawantinsuyu the scenery became increasingly dramatic.  The mountain of Curi stood tall on what was already a high plain, reaching almost 4200 metres above sea level.

Despite the incredible scenery the best part was driving through the towns and villages, such as Andahuaylillas, witnessing daily life unfold.

The people watching was a joy. They had quite distinct characteristics. Being short, stocky and tough were bred into those who live at these high altitudes. They were built for this environment.

At the town of Urcos we crossed the river, over an arch bridge with steel cables holding up the suspension, and painted Golden Gate red.

To my surprise it turned out to be the Urubamba (aka the Vilcanota) river, the one that flowed down the Sacred Valley and around Machu Picchu.

We followed the river South with a glorious panoramic view from our front row seats. By now we had been on the road for 90 minutes and it had flown by. There wasn't a moment where we felt bored.

There was always something interesting. At the village of Huaraypata a small church, built in 1926, with a large enclosed cemetery caught our attention. We viewed everything with fascination. 

The bus kept on rolling, the scene kept on changing.

We drove through the village of Combapata where on the side of the road we saw this small square with a very decorative floor. There were no buildings, just this small open space, looking more like a bus stop at first.

A few local market traders had set up.  One was selling homemade chica from reused Inca Kola bottles.

It was a scene repeated often. A little further down the road, near the village of San Pablo, a pair of ladies had set up a table, selling their chica from a cool box. By their side was a wheelbarrow which they had used to carry everything to their prime location on the side of the street. 

Behind them was a mural that we saw countless times along the journey. It had the letters RC or sometimes the full name of Ricardo Cornejo, a local politician and former Mayor of the province of Canchis. He was certainly portraying himself as an Inca ruler!

Near the town of Sicuani we discovered the answer to "How many alpacas can you fit in the back of a pick-up truck?" The answer was four. It was the strangest of sights.

After three hours on the road we drove through the deserted town of Chectuyoc. It was a real ghost town, built around the success of a textile manufacturer, Fabrica de Tejidos Marangani, founded in 1871 by Antonio Lorena and Pablo Mejia Ortega.

They built a church, now ruined as if someone had cut it in half. We could see the balcony and the stained glass window inside. The belltower was still standing, its spire looking like an Alpine church. 

There was also a large well-maintained brick built mansion in the centre of the town. It looked so out of place. 

It was actually built in 1949 and the home to the Mejia family, descendants of the founder Pablo Mejia Ortega. It was now a museum to the town's former glories.

At Maringana we met the train tracks for the first time. Travelling from Cusco to Puno by train would have been an option for us also, but not only was it more expensive and took longer but we were far happier sat in the comfort of our first class seats enjoying the full 180 degree panoramic view. 

Although the couple sat at the "balcony" seats on the back of the train were also enjoying their experience. 

We kept on moving and the scenery continued to marvel as we looked East towards the peaks of Quillqa.

We soon reached Aguas Calientes, another one. Perhaps this is why the Machu Picchu Pueblo was renamed to avoid the confusion. This Aguas Calientes wasn't a town or village as such, just a resort centred around the hot springs. The steam rising from the heated waters was a surprise.

A quick check on our location highlighted a nearby point of interest. There was a lesser known "rainbow mountain" called Pullay Punchu a short hike away from Aguas Calientes. Now added to our list of places to see.

A few miles further down the road from Aguas Calientes was the source of the Vilcanota river, trickling down from the icy slopes of Khunurana mountain.

It was so utterly enthralling.

After that, the landscape changed. Pampas grass dominated the plains. It was another kind of beauty. A golden carpet covered the entire landscape as we left the high peaks behind.

It had been four hours since we left Cusco. We were more or less halfway through our journey, now travelling along the Collao plateau or Altiplano as it's also known.

As we rolled through the village of Kunurana Alto an unusually decorated building caught our attention. It was worthy of being called eye-catching, with what appeared to be two four-leafed clovers painted either side of the door.

"Surely it's not an Irish pub" I thought to myself. But it had no sign to advertise itself, no chicaria red lantern outside. 

What it actually was, remained a mystery.

Just after the town of Santa Rosa Ali Jei excitedly appeared from the back (we'd actually forgotten she was with us!) and drew our attention to some tall plants growing on the side of a hill to our left.

They were known locally as titanka or by it's botanical name Puya Raimondii or their nickname the "Queen of the Andes". 

There were in fact an endangered plant species and we were fortunate to have caught a glimpse of them. 

From there on in the landscape was flat with a long straight road that the Romans would have been proud of, it literally didn't waver for over ten miles!

Despite the monotony it never became monotonous. Everything was still fascinating.

At the end of the road, at the town of Ayaviri, we came to a few twists and turns which coincided with a meandering river of the same name.

Obviously the now awake and ready to guide Ali Jei drew our attention to the pink flamingos feeding in the shallow waters. Flamingos in the Andes? who knew?  

The Andean Flamingo is identified as a separate species and is sadly endangered. 

It wasn't long before we arrived at the town of Pucara.  It was a one street town, with a petrol station, an archaeological museum, four restaurants, three coffee shops, two hostels and a hotel.

It was quite remarkable how they packed a lot in.

As we left we saw this fabulous statue of a bull, like one of those decorative ornaments placed on the rooftops of houses we saw in Cusco. By the side of it stood the name "Pucara" in large colourful letters, offering a photo opportunity.

I thought the town  suffered from delusions of grandeur but then the penny dropped!

Those little ornamental bulls were known as Toritos de Pucara. The story originated here. So it was worthy of an Instagram post after all! 

An hour later and I got excited when I thought we had finally arrived in Puno when we reached a large city but I soon realised it was Juliaca.  

I was surprised to learn that the its population was double that of Puno. It was huge transport hub, being at a crossroads from Puno, to the South, Arequipa to the West and the Bolivian border only 75 miles to the East.

It was even home to the region's main airport.

Our first impressions weren't great. "I wouldn't like to be here after dark" said Garry. It definitely had a certain edge to it, like a frontier town.

Our tour itinerary had in the small print a mention of political unrest in the area and there was a potential for the itinerary to change if they had any safety concerns.

What they were referring to has become known as the Juliaca massacre. On the 9th January 2023 during a political protest the National Police opened fire on the demonstrators. 18 were killed and over 100 injured.

A shameful moment in Peru's history and it happened less than two years ago!

As we drove through the city we noticed several illegal petrol stations on the side of the road. Fuel in 10 gallon jerry cans were stacked up and sold at cheap prices without paying any of the duty due to the government.

One was literally sat outside the police station. They must turn a blind eye to this activity.

Almost another hour past until we eventually reached the outskirts of Puno. Arriving from the high plateau we overlooked the sprawling city on the shore of Lake Titicaca.

The tint on our window made everything look red like the earth but much of the city was actually built with the red fired-clay adobe brick.

After seven and a half hours of travelling we finally came to a stop. We all agreed that it was the best bus ride we had ever experienced but it felt good that is was over and we could stretch our legs.

Waiting for us was a minibus to take us to our hotel.

Within five minutes we arrived in the centre of Puno, a short walk from the city's main square. Our hotel, Casona Plaza, was at the start of a pedestrianised street, only they were still laying down the bricks.

Reaching the front door was a challenge with several trip hazards to cross but we made it safely.

 Sat down, on a chair in reception was a relatively young woman wearing an oxygen mask. It made us realise that we were still at a high altitude. In fact at 3836m asl, (according to the GPS on my phone) we were higher than even Cusco and that we should still be weary of suffering from the collywobbles.   

Fortunately this hotel had an elevator so without too much excursion we quickly dropped our luggage in the room, admired the classic towel display of two swans creating a heart shape, then regrouped back in the foyer.

Having been sat down for the last eight hours it was a good idea to go for a walk.

We followed Ali Jei to Plaza Mayor where there was a small green park with a fountain at its centre. The fountain looked like it had been there for centuries but it was only installed in 2019 when the city decided to improved its historic centre. They removed a statue to Colonel Francisco Bolognesi, a war hero from the War of the Pacific with Chile and replaced it with a second hand fountain bought from France.

Until recently there was also a busy road that separated the park from the cathedral Basilica San Carlos Borromeo. But now, in their improvement drive to make the square as pedestrian friendly as possible, the area to the front of the cathedral had been paved.

It certainly made for much more pleasant environment.

Sat on the steps of the cathedral were two ladies dressed with their glad rags, with colourful pleated skirts and warm shawl or cardigan. Both were wearing a traditional bowler hat, a very popular style influencing a fashion known as Cholita in neighbouring Bolivia. Interestingly one was regular issue, black and short, whilst the other was beige and much taller.

I don't know if size matters but apparently the way you wear it does. Whether its resting on the top, on the side or at the back indicates your relationship status!

The story of how the bowler hat became popular was interesting, Legend has it that in the 1920s a supplier of hats in Bolivia imported a large amount of bowler hats to sell to the British engineers working on the railways. Unfortunately they were too small. Stuck with stock that he couldn't sell, the ingenious business man then marketed the bowler hats as female attire and the fashion craze was born.

It's now worn not only as a fashion accessory but as a statement of indigenous pride by the Quechan and Aymara people of the Andes.

It reminded me of the traditional Welsh Lady costume which absolutely nobody wears anymore, not even for fun. I suspect give it another 20 years and Cholita fashion will follow suit. Another victim of globalisation.

We walked up the steps to take a closer look at the Cathedral. At first we didn't think much of it. It was just a regular colonial style catholic church, with two bell towers on either side to the entrance. Although it did have the addition of a colourful crucified Christ to the left.

And when we looked closer at the facade we became much more impressed. It was an incredibly intricate display of fine Baroque style detail.

Tucked away to the side of the cathedral was a brightly painted building known as Casa del Corredigor. It had an inner courtyard with a clothing shop, cafe bar and a museum/gallery. I think Ali Jei was hoping to show us some local artwork but it was shut.

All was not in vain however as we liked the look of the  cafe bar and were already planning a return visit later in the evening. 

We followed Ali Jei back to the Plaza Mayor, walking across the wide open space, admiring some of the older buildings along the Southern side. 

The Palace of Justice, built in 1850, stood out, not only because it was painted in a bright red but it had great stature. You could tell it was a building of importance.

On the corner of the square we came to a street vendor selling a type of alfajor, a  layered sugary biscuit.

The alfajor comes in many shapes and sizes. Even the wagon wheel, which we know and love, could be described as one. But these were two large very rustic discs of pastry, with a layer of sweet canacha sauce in the middle, and liberally covered in sugar. This variation was very typical of the region of Puno and Arequipa. 

Ali Jei could see my interest. "Would you like to try?" she asked. 

 "Ooh yes" was my eager reply.

It was really sweet and crispy. I only had one but could easily have eaten two or three.

We left the square along Jiron Lima, another pedestrianised street. They had put a lot of effort into the design of the floor tiles, with some attractive geometric patterns and at the crossroads it featured a more detailed image.

 We soon came to Parque Pino. The first thing we saw was the colourful facade of the Church of St John the Baptist and the Sanctuary of the Blessed Virgin of the Candelaria.

There has been a church here since the 16th century but it was rebuilt in 1886 (after fire damage) in this quirky gothic style.

We crossed Parque Pino, towards a military statue in the centre. It was in honour of Dr. Manuel Pina, a Puno hero of the War of the Pacific with Chile. Despite being a learned gentleman, a lawyer and a politician, he enlisted as a private in the army, even though he had been offered an administrative role. He died in the Battle of Miraflores in 1881.  

To the East of the square was the self-proclaimed "glorious" National College of San Carlos, established in 1825 by a decree from Simon Bolivar, the famous liberator of South America from Spanish rule.  

To the side of the building there was a small statue of a man in uniform, with a briefcase, a guitar, a football, and a pile of books. I'm not sure why the student was dressed like a soldier and what the four items represented?  

We followed Ali Jei into a shop selling ecclesiastical paraphernalia. I'm not sure why, other than she knew the shopkeeper very well. 

They had all sorts, from little trinkets to a large image of the Virgin Mary carrying baby Jesus. It was like one an actual church would have, and would bring out on the saint's feast day, like they do here on 2nd February for the Virgen de la Candelaria Candlemas festival.

Behind the glorious college was the Mercardo Central a large covered market place.

On the way inside there was a small shrine. Everyone who passed laid their hand on it. I'm not too sure why they were asking for a blessing whilst going shopping.  

Ali Jei suggested a few items for us to buy for our homestay family tomorrow. It made for a more interesting experience. We ended up buying some lentils, turmeric and ginger also some jam and butter.

I wanted to buy tinned tuna whose brand name was Fanny, but we decided against it. I wouldn't have been able to have kept a straight face handing that over to Ali Jei.

Once we had a bought plenty of supplies for the family tomorrow we left the market.

When we stepped outside the weather had changed. It was now raining, not heavily but enough to get wet.

We crossed the road to a small corner shop that sold all sorts of stuff. We all bought colouring pencils, notepad, a Marvel comic pencil case all for the son of the family.

It was time to head back to our hotel.

We were about to retrace our steps when we heard the thud of a beating drum and then a quick-fire melody of a brass instrument, so we went to investigate.

I was expecting to see a marching band, and to be fair, there was one. It had seven members, one big bass drum, one snare drum, two euphoniums, and three trumpets. But they were just there to provide the soundtrack to a carnival of children.

The colourful procession came in groups and each group had a different theme. Some were dressed like parrots, others were dressed traditionally with a poncho and a chullo, then carrying a random paper mâché model on the end of a stick. 

We followed the procession as they crossed Parque Pino and continued down Jiron Lima. The weather was getting worse. Some of the kids were well prepared, wearing plastic rain macks but it made no difference. They all appeared to be thoroughly miserable. 

We asked Ali Jei what was the occasion for the parade but she didn't know. I noticed one group were carrying a sign for "James Baldwin", which turned out to be a private school here in Puno. Not that it offered any clues as to why they were here on a wet Wednesday evening.

By the time we had reached the plaza all the kids had turned up towards the cathedral whilst we continued on straight towards our hotel.

The rain had made the floor tiles look super slippery, so Julie switched to shuffle mode so it took a little longer for us to reach Casona Plaza hotel. 

Despite the conditions it didn't deter her from suggesting we should head straight back out again. So we arranged to meet Ali Jei at the restaurant at 7pm.

When we returned to the plaza, day had become night. We couldn't believe how quickly it had gone dark. Literally in the space of twenty minutes.

We were on our way to the bar at Casa del Corredigor but came across this dance troupe in front of the cathedral. They were all young adults, dressed in fancy sequenced costumes. The boys were doing one routine, giving it the full shimmy, whilst the girls were line dancing.

It looked like they were having a dress rehearsal and practicing their routines, stopping and starting, repeating their steps.

We reached the yellow bar and sat inside for a quick round of refreshments. It had this very laid back atmosphere and we wished we had longer than half an hour before we moved on to join Ali Jei for supper at Mojsa restaurant.

It wasn't far, just the other side of the main square.

It was a very popular place.

The menu arrived and I struggled to find anything suitable. I literally only had one choice. But I always say, I don't mind if there's only one veggie dish as long as it's a good one.

On their menu they also had some interesting hot drinks like a hot toddy called huajsapata, which Sonya went for. I tried their Mojsa Energy, a hot cup of ground coca, honey and lime. It tasted like pond slime and will never order anything like it again! 

My choice was a quinoa soup to start, which was disappointedly bland, followed by a vegetarian pasta. It was a strange cross between an Italian cannelloni and a Chinese spring roll. It was a sorry sight on my plate. Easily had to be the worst dish of the trip.

Mojsa was the best rated restaurant in Puno on TripAdvisor. There must have been a lack of tourist friendly restaurants in the city centre. Puno was certainly behind the curve, compared to Cusco.

I was so traumatised by my bad choice that I don't even remember what Julie ate, although it was probably belly pork. It's been by far her most popular choice on this trip. Although I do remember she didn't rate hers very much either.

We left Mojsa, wished Ali Jei a good night and headed back to Casa del Corredigor, where we played Jenga until it was closing time. It was so much fun, and we were so good at it. In one round we actually removed the blocks to the point where we couldn't move another without being a supporting block. 

They served food here as well. Julie was still hungry after not enjoying her meal at Mojsa and decided to order the blueberry cheesecake. I tried a spoonful and it was delicious.

The bar closed at 10pm which was our queue to leave and return to our hotel.

We were moving on again in the morning, but we were only taking an overnight bag with us so we spent half an hour sorting our luggage out before lights out.