Inti Raymi, or the Festival of the Sun, is the peak of Cusco’s June festivities.  An Incan ritual that was declared pagan and outright forbidden by the Catholic church in 1572, to be revived almost 400 years later, it takes place every year on June 24, the winter solstice.  On this day Inti, the Sun God, is farther away from his children than any other day of the year, and rituals are carried out to ensure his return, to bring warmth to the crops and ensure a good harvest.

Actors are chosen to portray the Inca and his court, and the action begins at 9 am in front of Qoricancha, the ancient Sun Temple on Avenida el Sol (now the convent of Santo Domingo), before winding in procession through Plaza de Armas and ending up in Sacsayhuamán, where the main ceremony is enacted.

Here’s what not to do to best enjoy the day.

1.  Don’t get to Sacsayhuamán too early

In a spectacular proof of the idea that locals don’t always know best, Gabriel decided we should leave for Sacsayhuamán at 7 am in order to stake out good (free) seats on the hill overlooking the action.  We wandered through the semi-deserted streets of early-morning Cusco, past an empty Qoricancha and Plaza de Armas (“have they already passed here?”, I wondered), and up, up, up to Sacsayhuamán where we found some 100 people camped out waiting.  Yes, the very best spots were already taken, but we found a respectable nook and I began to flick through the official script from 2009 I’d purchased on the way up.

“The hour is 1.30 pm as the performers gather in Sacsayhuamán for the main ceremony,” I quoted, glaring at Gabriel and settling in for the wait.

Get in early, yes, and mark your territory, but 8:30 am may be pushing it.

2.  Don’t forgot the sun protection

The sun may be at its furthest away, and the day short, but mountain sun is intense and June in Cusco is not known for its cloudy patches.  We huddled under Gab’s hoodie, trying to protect sensitive bits of exposed skin from the burning rays throughout the five-hour wait.

High-factor sunscreen is a must, as is a good hat, and an umbrella wouldn’t go astray either (although for the love of God put it away when the performance begins – see number 6).

If you do forget, there are plenty of vendors on the hill hawking everything from footy team branded hats to odd cone-shaped paper “caps” to protect you.  Unfortunately I refuse to shell out even 50 centimos on something ugly I’ll never put on my head again.

3.  Don’t overpack , and don’t forget the cash

Speaking of vendors, you can buy everything from ice-cream to potato crisps to pollo al horno complete with roast potato without even having to sacrifice your hard-earned vantage point.  Water and soft-drinks are also freely available.  Keep this in mind before you trudge all the way up to Sacsayhuamán with a backpack full of supplies.

Also consider how long you’ll be waiting.  I’m a boredom-eater and could have wept sitting there waiting, waiting, waiting, sandwiches long since eaten, to the constant cries of, “helados, helados,” “pollo al horno”, “papas, papas,” “chocolates, cremas”. Bring a little small change for snacks.

4.  Don’t skimp on the literature

The entire ceremony will be conducted in Quechua.  You can pick up a leaflet with the story and the script for a mere sol and the experience will be much more interesting if you’re privy to the meaning behind the speechifying, dancing, and stylised gesturing going on below you.

5.  Don’t forget your binoculars

Even if you get in quite early, you’ll probably be a distance from the action and binoculars will make everything a little clearer – you’ll probably also be able to catch the trick in the simulated llama sacrifice towards the end.  I was fairly confident I caught a not-so-butchered wiggle even as they hurled the bleeding “heart” into the sacred fire, but I overheard a few traumatised tourists on the way out who hadn’t been so eagle-eyed.

If you don’t have binoculars, you can buy them up on the hill if so inclined (I didn’t catch the price).  If you have a pair, bring them!  I have now officially carried my pair through Asia and Latin America without once having them handy when I wanted them.

6.  Don’t try to leave early

The atmosphere among the locals on the hill is a blast.  As excitement built while we waited, people started Mexican waves, joked, and shared food.  It’s all fun and games unless you keep your umbrella up during the performance, stand up to take a photo or attempt to leave early.  After the sacrifice, knowing there was very little left and desperate to rub moisturiser all over burnt bodies, we attempted to make good our escape.

The crowds behind us closed in, refusing to let us pass while demanding we sat down.  Rubbish was thrown.  It was nasty.  We managed to find a passage way, hewn by a crowd of people exiting, but just as we approached a middle-aged couple made preparations to settle themselves right in the pathway.

“Please, señora, could we pass before you sit down?”

“No!”

She planted herself in my path, glared at me, and directed her attention firmly towards the dancing below, ignoring my look of shock.

We did eventually make it out, but it wasn’t a lot of fun.

7.  Consider reserved seating?

You can, if you wish to avoid the sunburn and thrown rubbish, book ringside seats.  It’s still hot, and you’ll still need a good hat and some sunscreen, but if you’re willing to shell out US$80 (in 2010) you can avoid the wait, take in the action in Qoricancha and Plaza de Armas, and make your leisurely way to your seat mere minutes before the show starts.

You will, however, be surrounded only by other tourists, but perhaps “authenticity” isn’t that important when viewing the re-enactment of a long-suppressed tradition?

OK, I’ll duck now.