The Incas laid Cuzco out in the shape of a puma, they say, with the fortress of Sacsayhuamán as the head and the Tullumayo stream running along the spine, and while archaeologists argue about how literally to take the story, the city's plan still shows how seriously they took their capital. The name Qosqo means navel in Quechua, a statement of cosmology as much as geography: from here the empire's four quarters, the Tawantinsuyu, spread out in all directions.
At the heart of that world stood the Qorikancha, the Temple of the Sun, whose walls were covered, according to Spanish chroniclers, in sheets of gold. The conquistadors stripped the gold, and the Dominicans built the church and convent of Santo Domingo on the same walls. The result is a curious sight: Baroque cloisters sitting on a base of polished Inca masonry so precise that you cannot slide a blade between the stones. When the 1950 earthquake brought down much of the Spanish building, the Inca foundations barely moved.
For a motorcycle the city is a puzzle. The centre is a maze of steep lanes, one-way streets and cobbles, some of which narrow to a single bike's width, with the added hazards of buses, taxis, wandering dogs and the occasional herd of llamas. Altitude affects riders as well as engines; expect to feel slow at first. Parking near the old centre is tight, so look for a guarded lot and ask your hotel. Rain makes the cobbles greasy, and the dry months between May and September are by far the best.
Fuel is easy to find on the larger avenues that ring the centre, and a city of this size has any spare part or service you are likely to need. Food and coffee are good and cheap; the San Pedro market, a short walk from the plaza, sells fruit juices, bread and local cheese in a big, noisy hall.
Come at dawn if you can, when the stone is still cold, the streets are quiet and the sunlight reaches the high walls of the old town before the crowds do.