A warm, sunny day in Cusco and I am sitting in a cafe, out of the bright light, slowly eating some ice cream. Besides the waiters, only two other people claim space in the immensity of the empty cafe, though later it will be wall to wall people.
They are an older couple. The man’s face is gaunt and sharp, his hair closely cropped while the woman wears glasses and has her hair died a too light blond. Occasionally their conversation reaches me. It perked me up. They are speaking with Utah accents and have mentioned places like Bountiful, Park City and Farmington.
The likelihood the only three customers in this large cafe not oriented to tourists being from Utah seems remote. But there are factors that could make it much less remote.
