It's market day in Pisac, and there's also some sort of festival going on. A couple of brass bands march down the narrow streets on opposite sides of the square. Also there's a rather chaotic procession with schoolgirls dancing around baskets of fruit, whilst a Daihatsu truck with lemon trees on the back follows. A lady standing by the lemon trees proceeds to pluck the lemons and throw them at the crowd, causing a scramble for the yellow fruit on the floor.

In the market itself there are lots of crafts, alpaca wool and jewellery on sale. A guinea pig hutch is located precariously close to a large wood-fired oven. As I stand in the street a shoe-shiner points to my boots and says "mucho necassario," not going for the flattery approach obviously. I politely decline before black polish stains my brown boots more than the mud already does.

Pisac is located in the Sacred Valley of the Incas. It looks up on hills covered by terraces for potato growing and glacier covered mountains in the background.

Later we head to Ollantaytambo, where I will stay for the night. It is home to a steep series of Incan terraces for crop growing and experimentation. There is evidence of a selective crop breeding programme, and all of the terraces are impressively irrigated by an ancient water system.

The small settlement near the ruins consists of mostly mudbrick houses and shops geared toward the tourist. Away from the centre is a local food market where street sellers are dishing up kebabs of undeterminable meat (much like Tottenham Court Road on a Saturday night). For dinner I opt for the last of the local wildlife species I'm yet to sample - alpaca. The restaurant doesn't appear to have electric lighting and the waiter provides candles as the sun sets. My flashlight gets an early test and comes in very handy when it's baños time.