The motley crew congregate.

 

An Aussie drinking a Mexican beer in an Irish Pub in Peru...

After my last few days spent around and on (yes ... on!) the Inca Trail to Machu Picchu, I am totally relaxed after a welcome and well-deserved  massage in an amazing day spa in Peru.

The country has not really embraced classy type massages, although there are plenty of happy ending massages, or so I am told …

I had spent a long, lazy and contented morning, hands in pockets, shuffling along the quaint cobbled streets of Cusco when I happened upon Paddy’s Irish Bar.

So here I am, an Aussie drinking a Mexican beer (yes, my beloved Corona) in an Irish pub in Peru, whilst feasting on an American cheeseburger (it doesn’t get any more multi-cultural than this).

In Paddy’s Pub the motley crew congregate at the altar (aka bar).

There’s Manuel and Pia in the corner booth. Let’s say that they are from Spain. Shoes off, fragrant or should I say pungent odour of wet socks pervades my nostrils. One of Pia’s legs drapes lazily over Manuel’s bended knee while the other shoeless toe gently rests against and massages ....

GOAL!!!

The whole pub erupts as Barcelona in the seventh minute have just scored a goal against ACM (whoever the hell they are). My eyes avert from Manuel and Pia and my gaze falls upon Paddy, Seamus and Ringo seated in the opposite corner. Two Irishmen (trust me, I heard them swearing in all their Irish glory in Barcelona ... sounded something like this ... yew fookin e-jats …) and one Brit that sounds just like Ringo Starr. My eyes avert again when I realize the lads may think that they may have made a new blonde Aussie friend!

The table of Yanks sitting in front of me, (sorry my American friends) but I am thinking if I hear one more “and I was like and she was like and we were like” I think I will ask Ringo to marry me and take me away! Bigamy is definitely more palatable than hearing the word “like” once more now.

Up near the bar are the obligatory Swedish and German tourists, whom I’ll call Inga and Heidi, with long blonde hair and legs that don’t end, who have men drooling all over them around the bar.  

Two blokes sit at the bar dressed head to toe in black North Face outfits.

 “Fellas”, I think, “It’s Machu Picchu you’re hiking not K2”.

Glued to the game, they occasionally mutter profanities at the umpires whilst slamming their beers down on the bar, much to the annoyance of the bar girl that almost jumps out of her poncho every time they do.

And all the while in the background barely heard above the cacophony of bar room noise are the musical renderings of Culture Club followed by country and western warbles. A little electric train makes its non-stop journey around the bar – I kid you not!

Join Our Facebook Group