(Milka's photos top three, mine are the bottom three).
One night in Cuzco, Walker and I randomly stumbled upon this hole-in-the-wall community basketball court.
We meant to just take a peak, but ended up spending two or three hours watching what we affectionately dubbed the "Old Men's Basketball League of Cuzco."
We'd pick our favorite team and favorite players, grimace at the unbelievably bad shot attempts and try to blend in with cement bleachers spotted with either adorably hyper kids or these hardened gangs of old guys, true seasoned fans with their shit talk and big bottles of Cusqueña.
The sun set, we stayed through the women's game, bought a bag of popcorn from a lady for the American equivalent of ten cents and just generally soaked in the community atmosphere team sports have a unique ability of creating, whether in fancy stadiums or open fields.
It was our peaceful alcove, a welcome respite in a city that (though beautiful) can be totally touristic-ally overwhelming. Nowhere to be, nothing we had to do, just letting a night unfold in Peru.
