Cusco

High in the Andes mountains of Peru, I rest under a brilliant blue sky. My body is made of cool, strong stones, fitted together so perfectly that you couldn't slip a piece of paper between them. For centuries, I have watched the sun rise and set over the peaks, feeling the footsteps of millions of people on my streets. They have always known I was a special place, a place of power and magic, but they had a name for me that meant 'the center of everything.' I am Cusco, the heart of the great Inca Empire, the navel of the world.

My story begins a very long time ago, around the 12th century, when the first Inca ruler, Manco Cápac, chose this valley to build his capital. For hundreds of years, I grew slowly. But then, a great leader named Pachacuti came to power around the year 1438. He was more than a ruler; he was a dreamer and a planner. He saw me not just as a city, but as a sacred animal. He rebuilt me in the shape of a mighty puma. My head was the incredible fortress of Sacsayhuamán, perched on the hill above, its zigzag walls like the teeth of the great cat. My body was filled with homes, plazas, and temples. And my heart, my beating heart, was the Qorikancha, the Temple of the Sun. Its walls were covered in sheets of pure gold, and its courtyard was a garden of golden statues that shimmered so brightly it was like having a second sun on Earth.

For nearly a century, I was the glorious center of the Inca world. But everything changed on November 15th, 1533. On that day, Spanish conquistadors led by a man named Francisco Pizarro marched into my streets. They were amazed by my golden treasures and my perfectly built stone walls. They brought new beliefs, a new language, and a new way of building. They decided to make me their city, too, but they did something interesting. Instead of tearing my strong Inca walls down, they built their own world right on top of my foundations. They built grand churches with tall bell towers where my temples once stood, and beautiful houses with red-tiled roofs and wooden balconies above my ancient stones. I became a new kind of city, a place where two different worlds learned to live together, one built upon the other.

My strength has been tested many times over the centuries. On May 21st, 1950, the earth began to tremble and shake in a powerful earthquake. Many of the Spanish-style colonial buildings crumbled and fell. But when the dust settled, my original Inca walls were still standing, as strong as the day they were built. The skill of my first builders was revealed to the modern world, a secret hidden in plain sight. In 1983, people from all over the globe agreed that my story and my stones were too important to ever be lost. They named me a UNESCO World Heritage site, a treasure for all of humanity. Today, my stone heart beats on. Children play in my plazas, colorful markets sell warm woven blankets, and travelers from every corner of the world walk my narrow streets. They come to listen to my stories before they journey to see my famous sister, Machu Picchu. I connect the past to the future, and I welcome everyone to share in my magic.