So where does the name "Latitude Fifty Four" come from?
The final destination for this motorcycle adventure was the city of Ushuaia located in Tierra Del Fuego, Argentina.
The latitude of this city is 54° 47' South.

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Monday, March 06, 2006

Day 121 to Day 123

March 4rd, 2006: Chalhuanca, Peru to Cuzco, Peru
March 5th, 2006: Cuzco, Peru
March 6th, 2006: Cuzco, Peru

On the 4th we did the last leg of the journey towards Cuzco. It was pretty windy again, but I think we were starting to get a bit lower in the mountains so it wasn't quite as cold as the day before. The roads were just as winding though, and no journey would be complete without a few hazards along the way. Of particular interest was the rockslide/river going across the highway combination, and the half-road-missing/overhanging-rocks/falling-into-raging-river points along the way. Despite it all we finally arrived in Cuzco safe and sound. On the 5th we decided to meander around Cuzco and see what the city had to offer. We had breakfast on a nice balcony overlooking the central square. There was a procession of university graduates who took it in good spirits when they were bombarded with water balloons. The nurses in white uniforms proved to be a favourite target of the water bombers, which sent them scurrying in every direction. The only people who were immune to the firing were the military. I suppose I wouldn't be messing with a whole fleet of men with large guns either. After the parade cleared out, tourists seemed like good targets. Out of self defense we bought three balloons for ourselves. This turned out to be a big mistake. Now we were prime targets. The balloons started coming from all directions and within a few minutes we were totally covered in spray foam. Not ones to be defeated, we promptly purchased some monster spray cans of foam and a few bags of water balloons. My dad and I had a pretty good team going until he betrayed me. While I was posing for a picture he pointed right at me and yelled "FIRE AWAY!" whereby I was attacked from all sides. Unfortunately the worst of the damage wasn't even documented since we decided to pack the camera up safely in layer upon layer of plastic bags before declaring all out war. The festivities really took on a free for all when the tourists started forking out the dough for ammo. It was about 5-8 balloons for 30 cents or a can of foam for a buck, depending upon availablity (as the ammo ran short the price went and demand economics at its finest). Eventually, in "Survivor" style, mini-alliances started forming. A pick- up truck loaded with passengers in the back drove by loaded with cauldrons of water and the passengers had buckets to throw it at you with. After one particularly bad defeat, my dad sprayed the entire windshield with foam so the truck had to stop. As soon as the truck stopped a clever kid opened the driver's door. With hoots and hollars everyone soaked the inside of the truck with buckets of water and a healthy layer of foam. They fled the truck and started to attack with any buckets and cans of foam they had left. The mess in the truck was horrendous, but it didn't keep them from coming back with reinforcements and a fire extinguisher filled with pressurized foam. We spent the entire day in the square partaking in the Carnival festivities.

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