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Most tourists who come to Cusco do their shopping at only a few central places, such as Gato's Market, Mercado Central, Mercado San Pedro (for the slightly more adventurous), and the shops in or near the Plaza De Armas. But if you stay in Cusco for a while, the locals will soon inform you that the only real place to shop is at El Molino. It's not in Lonely Planet (not in mine, at least — ostensibly too far away and too dangerous). It's not near the city centre. But it has everything you could possibly need, from shoes to DVDs, and from seafood to sunglasses. And all at rock-bottom prices. El Molino is the black market of Cusco.

In relation to food — to meat in particular — graso means "fatty". Some meats, such as carne de vaca (beef) and pollo (chicken) are only pocito graso; others such as tocino (bacon) and cuy are muy graso. Graso is different to the word gordo, which is used to describe a person as fat or chubby. The noun grasa means "grease", "fat", or "lard" — so it's specific to animal products. Don't eat too much comida grasienta (fatty / greasy food), or you'll end up gordito y feo ("fat and ugly")!

Mareos literally means "dizziness". When you run around in circles, you might say afterwards: "tengo mareos" ("I feel dizzy"). But this word also has other interesting meanings. If someone's so drunk that they can't walk in a straight line, you could say: "es mareado" ("he's tipsy"). And here in the Andean highlands, mareos often has a special, specific meaning. It's very common for people to have altitude sickness in the mountains, and the common symptoms of dizziness and light-headedness are referred to as mareos.

Wil and Monica, two of the students that have been with me at Amigos these past two weeks, are leaving Cusco tomorrow. As such, tonight we held a little farewell get-together for them, over at Jesus's house. We had a good turnout for the farewell — of students, staff, and friends of the school — and it was a fun night of talking, reminiscing, and beveraging. Wil and Monica have both been great friends to me during their time here, and I know I'm not the only one that's going to miss them.

Buenas noticias (lit: "good news"), people: as of lunchtime today, Mario's back! Él Papá returned home at about 2:30pm this afternoon, in time for the all-important middle-of-the-day meal. He's still going to need at least another week of serious R&R at home; but he's looking happy and healthy, just like his old self. We welcomed him home with flowers, kisses, hugs, and plenty of good food (a welcome change from those hospital meals). He should be back at work within a week or so.

The literal translation of amaneciendo is "dawning" (of the day). However, en Español this word is a vivid and romantic thing to say. It alludes to the beauty of the gradual change in colour of the sky at dawn, from pitch black to dark greyish-blue, to a paler shade of misty blue, and finally to the beautiful golden orangey-blue that can be seen just before sunrise. Along with the sky, "está amaneciendo" (lit: "it's dawning") brings with it the chirping of the birds, the rustling of the leaves, and the serenity of the sea. It's a good thing to say to your girlfriend, next time you're on an ocean cruise watching the day be born.

Mario, my host father here in Cusco, has been in hospital with pneumonia for 1½ weeks now. I visited him last Sunday; and today, I paid him another visit. Man, what a change he's been through! He looks much, much better now. No more oxygen, no more IV — he's well on his way to recovery. And plenty of friends and family are visiting him regularly, lifting his spirits, and helping him get better. Fingers crossed, according to the doctors he should be coming home tomorrow.

I'd heard that you have to watch out for counterfeit money here in Peru, but I hadn't encountered any until today. I caught a taxi to the Plaza de Armas this evening; and when I handed over the two un nuevo sol coins to the cabbie as payment, he inspected them both, and handed one of them back to me. "Es un falso" (lit: "it's a fake"), he explained to me. I couldn't perceive any difference in the falso, until it was explicitly pointed out to me; but apparently, every man, woman, and child in Cusco can tell a falso a mile off. Can you?

For the remaining two weeks of Spanish school that I've got at Amigos, I've decided that each day, there's going to be a PDD, or Palabra Del Día (lit: "Word Of The Day"). For today, the inaugural PDD is: burbajas ("bubbles"). You can blow burbajas. You can live in a burbaja. And, if you want to relax and feel nice and warm, you can have a baño de burbajas (lit: "bubble bath").

This week is going to be the quietest yet at Amigos, with only 3 students (including myself) enrolled for the week's classes. As such, there's nobody for me to be in a class with, and I've had to switch to private lessons. So instead of an 8am-12pm daily class (2 hours with Merly, 2 with Ursula), this week I'm just having 3 hours straight (8am-11am) with Merly, one-on-one. Today's lesson was much more intense and personalised, but it was also a bit lonely.