Returning to Hotel Rumi Punku again felt like coming home.

They even gave us our same rooms. (Our bags were waiting for us to boot.)

Walking up to the third floor? No problems with the altitude now! Only with soreness...

My vivid, intense (and tiring) dreams about hiking the Inca trail continued. And I kept having them until the Tuesday after we got back home! I must have been processing a lot about this trip.

Showered and gloriously clean again, we set out for a final day of sightseeing. Close to our hotel was one of the most famous historical sites in the area: Saqsaywaman.

The pronunciation is similar enough to "sexy woman" that we were able to easily convey to the hotel receptionist where we wanted a taxi to.

"Most people walk," the lady informed us. "It's not far."

(We knew it wasn't far. We also knew it was at the top of a very steep hill, in the same area as the white Cristo Blanco statue that overlooks the city.)

"No, we'll take the cab," we said.

At least those overpriced tourist tickets, useless for most everything else, worked for Saqsaywaman!

What is most unique and impressive about this battle site is the *size* of the stones. Not only Inca walls but GIANT INCA WALLS.

Most of the original stone at the site had been re-appropriated by the Spanish in the past. What is left still exists only because it was too heavy to carry away which makes the fact that this was constructed at all mind-blowing.

You can't help but wonder the whole time you are here: how did they do this??

It's dizzying trying to imagine how tall these structures must have once been. You wonder how the brilliant Incan culture could have ever lost to the Spanish.

One of our favorite things about Saqsaywaman, besides the random grazing llamas, was the flatness. Unlike the other ruins we'd visited, there were only a few minor, short staircases.

And every time we came upon those staircases, we looked hard at them, debating among ourselves whether it was worth the climb. I'm pretty sure my legs have never been this sore, so the long stretches of flat grass were a relief for aching muscles.

We saw a gentleman climbing the below mound, looking like each step was a major accomplishment, despite otherwise appearing to be young and healthy.

We looked at each other with knowing smiles. We knew why. He just hiked the Inca Trail.

My other favorite thing was the clean restrooms. Cusco and its surrounds win for public restrooms at tourist locations.

Our taxi driver waited, as planned, although he'd been originally confused that we weren't walking down. Even the ones who take the taxi up usually walk down. But no, not us. We'd already done a lot of down. A LOT.

After a stop at our hotel lounge to have a cup of coca tea, we went for a last walk around Cusco.

We found ourselves looking for the Choco Museum, not a surprise if you know our family. Just as we reached the corner of the small square we'd boarded the Llama Path bus last week, we saw four of our hiking mates! (They looked great - amazing what a shower, a full night's sleep, and clean clothes will do!) Ironically, they'd recently come from the Choco Museum and knew about the funky side entrance through a courtyard and up the stairs. We chatted a bit before following their directions.

A tour, samples of chocolate liqueur, chocolate-making lessons (should you have the time), and plenty of delicious local organic chocolate for sale. We love this place!

After the museum, we sat at a bench at the main square, in the sun, enjoying the coca-leaf chocolates (since I assume we weren't allowed to bring those on the plane).

Then, with a few hours before we needed to leave for the airport, my brother and I had the urge to buy some stuff.

We perused the small hidden markets and the large expensive shops. Jack found gifts aplenty. I found one cool thing for myself...

(Though I did buy at least one thing for someone else, too.)

Jack bought a cool map from a lady selling her wares on the same sidewalk as the real-life Inca Wall.

Many places were not open, it being between lunch and dinner, and we did not want to venture too far.

We ended up at the Donor Kebab on the same street as our hotel and ordered four gyro pita sandwiches.

At this point, my brother realized, panicked, that he didn't have his shopping bag full of gifts and he ran back out to look for it. My dad followed a bit later, having a notion of which store he'd left it at. He'd had already started re-creating his gifts when my dad located him, bag in hand.

So my brother had a clever re-packing job to do.

We tried an Inca Cola. The irony of this was that, this being Peru, it should have coca in it. And, well, heck, then should be called Coca-Cola, right? Or at least Coca-Cola: the really original recipe! But no coca, even though it was a Coca-Cola product. Instead, we were treated to a weird, bubble-gum artificial taste. Not the best soda I've ever had.

The same taxi driver for Saqsaywaman waited for us back at the hotel to drive us to the airport. Maybe carting tourists around was more lucrative then smaller, local fares? Or he was just today's hotel taxi dude.

After we had one more last cup of tea (don't judge us!), we headed to the airport.

In Dallas, I got my Inca Wall swabbed! My brother got his map inspected. A customs official asked my mom and dad if they were carrying any coca leaves. We weren't, but man, I wish cocaine hadn't ruined the innocent little coca leaf...

Without that leaf, we might not have made it.