Being a wild rover

Trip Start Sep 28, 2011
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Trip End Ongoing


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Flag of Peru  , Cusco,
Wednesday, May 16, 2012

We got back in very late last night and crashed out at our former digs.  Today we're changing to the Wild Rover, an Irish owned infamous party hostel in the centre of Cusco.  This could be very dangerous, and indeed it turns out to be just so.  And not for me.

We've arranged to meet everyone from the trek at another Irish bar in town.  For those that want to come, we'll be taking in a meal together, then party members with staying power will head out to probably go mental.  I've decided it's the perfect opportunity for the kilt and therefore to make my move on Frauline Eins.  Paddy is already one step ahead of me after receiving a kiss on the train last night underneath a jacket.  He's a classy guy.

I'm opening my kilt bag to air the garment and what should I find?  There for all to see is my really good 'stolen' camera.  There it is, just sitting in the bag on top of the Sporran.  How?  Why?  Who?  What?  Where and when?  My initial feelings of stupidity are soon over taken by elation, then by disappointment that I didn't have it for Machu Picchu.  I still managed some decent shots with the compact though, so I don't spend too long hitting my head off a brick wall.  Paddy wastes no time in calling me a twat.

After we've acclimatised back into society, pottering around doing laundry, checking facebook and other such vital things, the day is turning to night and the festivities can begin.  Unfortunately only a handful of the party turn up, enjoy a short meal together, and then low and behold it's myself, Paddy and two Germans left.  This is where it gets a bit messy.

In reality I should have kissed her in Aguas Caliente, when the more romantic moment presented itself.  I've been holding off now for a while, but with Paddy clearly enjoying himself, it's time I walked the walked instead of talking the talk.  As far as drunken kisses go, it was still a pretty damn good one, sitting in a side booth in one of Cuscos many drinking establishments.  We rarely spend time apart after that, as we move on to a well known dive called Groove.

Now I've said before that this blog-come-book will pull no punches and tell no lies when it comes to my experiences, but I think in order to protect certain individuals who shall remain nameless, I need to hold my tongue and wait once again until I'm a long way from harms reach.  Suffice to say I've heard about this kind of thing happening, but never seen it with my own eyes until tonight.  All I can say is it's wonderful everyone can laugh about it the next day, and indeed for the rest of our lives.  Every day.  Every.  Day.  For the rest of our lives.

In a totally unrelated incident...if you've ever shagged in a dark corner of a club then you've got more bottle than I.  Just sayin'.

I don't really have a lot of experience blagging a private from tight hostel doormen at 5am in the morning, but with this being The Wild Rover, it's something they are more than accustomed to.  My only problem now is checking out of two rooms before midday, which judging how woozy my head is, isn't going to happen.  Oh well my dear readers, it's been a while since I had a lazy lie in with someone I really liked, which was worth every penny. 



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