Wherever you travel in the world, no matter how far you go, you can be sure of one thing—you are never further than five miles from an Australian backpacker or an Irish pub. In Peru, Paddy Flaherty's, on the corner of the Plaza de Armas, is the nexus that all are eventually drawn to.
Now, I am not a fan of Irish pubs. That's why I like Ireland—they just have pubs there, not 'Irish pubs'. However, when you are far away from home they provide a comforting atmosphere—outside it might be Manchester, Montreal, Moscow, or Mogadishu, but with a pint in your hand it all seems a very long way distant.
This Irish pub doesn't serve pints. No Guinness (not even in bottles), no stouts, no bitters. They have Cusquena in bottles, but so does everywhere else in Cusco. To be fair, they do have bottles of whisky, but for me the only saving grace of Irish pubs is the comforting feel of a pint glass in your hand.
They make an effort with the food—chips, chicken wings, even honest-to-goodness shepherd's pie. However the tables are so cramped it's quite hard to raise your elbows high enough to tuck in.
Obviously lots of people like it. It's busy with accents from all over the world. But for me I would have preferred somewhere more authentic—either Peruvian or Irish. This place sadly falls between the two stools and manages to be neither.
From journal Cusco - The Navel of the World