My story begins
in the Andes.

I'm Ramiro, creator of InfoCusco, distributor of Maras salt, Administrator of Mandor Wasi Casa de Campo in Quillabamba, and an Andean dreamer with WiFi. From technology to tourism, from Andean electro-pop beats to matches at Garcilaso Stadium, everything I do comes from the same place: Cusco.

I am a Cienciano supporter at heart, not just because of what the club represents, but because I studied at the glorious Colegio Nacional de Ciencias, a cradle of history, rebellion, and Cusco identity. I grew up in a city where pride is not inherited, it is lived, and Cienciano was always part of that: the team that taught us that history can also be made from the south. Being from Cusco is not just a geographic location; it is a way of feeling, of resisting, and of moving forward with your head held high, even when nobody believes in you. That's why everything I do—in travel, in music, in business—carries that same red energy I learned on the pitch and in the classroom.

I have always traveled through the corners of Cusco and Peru, although it is in my homeland, Cusco, where I have lost myself the most in order to find myself. I walked ancient trails, visited communities, celebrated traditional festivities, and discovered landscapes that do not appear on postcards. Today, thanks to new technologies, I take that passion further: I do live streams right from the tourist attractions, showing our customs, rituals, and traditions in real time. It is not just about traveling, but about sharing who we are with authenticity and real connection.

When I was about 10 years old, I went to the sanctuary of the Lord of Qoyllur Rit’i for the first time, accompanied by my mother and my baptism godmother. We were in a small cell near the temple. Even though I didn't fully understand what the festival meant, seeing so much faith gathered in one place left a deep impression on me. It wasn't just a procession; it was something deeper. Years later, as a teenager, I decided to go on a pilgrimage with a group of friends from the neighborhood. We set off on foot from Urcos toward the sanctuary. It was an unforgettable experience. We experienced hunger, thirst, cold, but we didn't care; we were young, we had energy, purpose. I remember that when we arrived in Mahuayani, nobody believed us that we had walked all the way from Urcos. We did it at least three times. Time passed. Later as adults, three friends and I went back in a Tico. Upon arriving in Mahuayani, we didn't know if we would find anyone at the temple. We asked, and a caretaker told us that no one had gone up for weeks; he was the one who gave us the key. We went up, and upon reaching the first cross, the landscape was covered in snow. Everything white, everything silence, and in that silence we saw fresh footprints leading toward the temple door, as if someone had entered shortly before. The strangest thing is that I don't remember anything else. I only picture myself back in Cusco. Years later I returned with my family, this time during festive dates. Then I stopped going for quite a while, but a few years ago, I returned… and alone.

And it was there, on that return, that something inside me was activated. I had a flashback: I remembered everything, I understood everything. I realized that this place—this sanctuary, this mountain—is the only place in the world where I have been, am, and will be deeply happy. Not a happiness better or greater than what one can experience with family or friends… but a different happiness. One born of silence, of freezing air, of the sound of footsteps on the snow. A peace that cannot be explained, only felt; since then, I return every year. And every time I arrive, I feel as if someone were saying to me from the sanctuary: “You came, come in, sit down, how wonderful to know you are here!” Just like that… like when you arrive at your grandparents' or parents' house, and they welcome you with warmth, without asking anything, with that warm and unconditional love; that is how I feel it, and I cannot help but be moved to tears. These past two years I have had the joy of sharing my experience with you, live streaming on TikTok. And I will keep doing it for as long as I can. Because this pilgrimage is not just a tradition: it is my most sacred moment of the year. And if one day you decide to experience it… don't take my word for it. Go up. Feel it.