Before I begin, do I know somebody starring in Public enemies? Wear a sweet zoot suit for me buddy!
Lenay and I took Liz to the airport at 1:30 this afternoon. I understand it will take until 2:30 TOMORROW afternoon to reach Minneapolis. I wouldn't feel bad except she and Lenay spent the last two days traveling two and from Arequipa, a department to the west of Cusco. Sixteen hours riding a bus isn't my idea of a good time. Lost second season marathon on the otherhand...
I had to bring a disc back to Molino because the dvd player wasn't reading any data. Waiting for a replacement, the vendor told me, 'espera cinco minutitos, por favor.' I was a little confused so I asked 'Why? Is another cd burning right now' In response he gave me the look. You know what look. The look of a man who is copying thousands of copyrighted dvd's and selling them for cash. Shhh Erik! Keep it down!
I mean they have guards in the black market! It's not as if anybody's trying to stop this guy, or the other ten pirate vendors from ripping off hollywood!
Catholics in Latino America don't call Easter by the same name. Here it's Lunes Santo, Viernes Santo, Domingo Santo. You get the picture. But we don't get chocolate bunnies in Peru (except from Liz, thanks). Instead we get twelve different plates for lunch. I'm told the number is based off of the Apostles during the last supper (I wonder which dish is for Judas?). It's usually two soups, two starters, two seconds and SIX desserts. That's enough food isn't it. Pati (host mom) made us five instead of the traditional twelve, but 3 desserts are enough, I guess.
1. Caldo Blanco (chicken feet soup...WITH PAPAS!) 2. Torrejas de Acelga (spinach cakes) 3. Masori Morada (warm, ultra sticky raspberry jello made with liquified corn) 4. Arroz con leche (rice pudding perhaps? The grandma's recipe) 5. Empanada de Semana Santa (crunchy cookie wrapped in paper) 6. Norseman Grog (a genuinely local peruvian coffee)
The next day the more ambitious catholics fast, or ayunar. My host mom told me she tried this, but fainted last year. Thank God. I love to eat.
During this time of year mothers would traditionally whip their children, to castigate for the past year's sins. I'm all for immersion, so I asked to be included in this tradition. Fiorela humbly obliged.
I was woken up to the sound of rain pattering on the corrugated roof tops of Aguas Calientes. I looked at my watch, 5 AM is too early a morning with the price of Cristal in Peru. Oh well. We all scrambled to pack our bags, and hurry out the door of Hostal Tumi by 5:30. Ok, if I had an alarm clock, the snooze button would have been broken by this point. But I did wake up eventually. Dashing down the cobblestone streets toward the bus station, I was careful not to slip on the rain water following me down the hill. We had forgotten to pack ponchos, so Lenay bought a few from one of the more ambitious vendors at 5:40 in the morning. Fortunately, I never had to use mine, as this particular monday cleared up and gave us sunshine for the wonder about to be witnessed.
At the station, small coach buses were already heading out to the sacred city as Liz, Lenay and I filed into the line, waiting to board the next bus. 20 minutes later our driver was following the 13 scars in the mountainside (otherwise known as the Hiram Bingham highway), bringing us to Machu Picchu. I debarked at the visitor center, and joined up with group Kosmos. It was made up of Koreans, Americans, English, Dutch, a fair representation of the daily patronage that it's caretakers see. We assembled at the end of the Inca trail, a rock where all cliche pictures are taken (note:title picture). This rock is perpetually clogged by tourists wanting that once in a lifetime snapshot. I've got my own, who can talk?
What immediately stood out to me was how the agricultural and urban sectors are seperated. Our guide informed us that because a fault line running through Putukusi and past Machu Piccu, the cities architects foresaw integrity problems, and seperated the city based on local geology. How incredible! What you might also notice is the difference in construction practices in the city. The builders cut the stones in no less than 13 different ways. The more pragmatic practice was to use small stones and mortar. The larger, more ceremonial buildings, such as the three windows temple were made by cutting large stones and fitting them together perfectly. This obviously took far more time and skill, though to see it is absolutely stunning. Furthermore, at the Temple of the Sun, there lies a large rock that exactly points to the cardinal directions. What is special about the rock, is that the priests carved a point that leads to magnetic north. How could the Inca's have known of the difference? What wisdom?
The rest of our two hour tour was spent focusing on the rooms for the princesses, where they would spend their menstrual cycle looking at the moon through stone pools in the floor. The mausoleum has a sort of surrealist stone condor, the spiritual animal that brings the dead to the afterlife. This carrion eater, one of the largest birds in the western hemisphere, is so important to the Inca that the city was built in it's shape, as old Cusco is in the form of a puma. Upon seeing llamas grazing in the main courtyard, the tour guide explained that besides ambient purposes, the iconic mammal is a very effective lawnmower for the lost city.
At the end of our tour, our guide told us about Wayna Picchu, the mountain sitting behind Machu Picchu. At an altitude of 2634 meters at it's peak, he told us the only way to Summit Wayna Picchu is to hear the spirit of the mountain calling you. Otherwise it will be impossible. Additionally the mountain only calls four hundred people daily (park rules) Once called, it takes fifteen minutes Inca time, or one hour tourist time. Although skeptical of the challenge, we nevertheless heard the call of the mountain at 11 AM that morning. forty five minutes later, after climbing thopusands of stairs on an ancient Incan pathway, I was lounging in the sun at it's summit. The rocks at it's peak gave me a commanding view of the surrounding region and a bird's eye shot of Machu Picchu. I imagine that in case of invasion, the Inca could have held off invaders indefinitely. With the fortifications of the natural geography, coupled with a steady water supply and hardy agricultural capabilities, the city must have represented a strong point in the region, superior to most castles in far off medieval Europe.
Staggering down Wayna Picchu, admiring the UNESCO site and chasing some llamas, we left Machu Picchu, after nine hours. Taking the switchback road back down the mountain, I returned to hostal Tumi to retrieve my pack, which they had graciously stored for the duration. The locals were creating sand paintings on the streets when we returned, to celebrate Semana Santa.
Short on cash, but having only eaten bread and a banana that day, Liz and I retraced our steps from the night before to a tiny fast food joint on the other side of Aguas Calientes. I feasted on a three sol hamburger, complete with fresh cucumber and lettuce. Unfortunately my disregard for produce germs would come back to haunt me in future days, but that is a different story.
At 5 PM our train left Aguas Calientes, leaving me exhausted, staring out the window, pondering on all that I'd seen today.
Sunday, March 17, 2008 Aguas Calientes, Sacred Valley of the Incas Lenay woke us up at 7.45 this morning at the Hostal Las Portadas. We had a train to catch at 9, but I'm usually following Lenay off of the beaten track. Wandering down the narrow cobblestone side streets of Ollantaytambo, nothing but further appreciation for the city grew as I was greeted by the village locals. After 45 minutes of this, We hurried down to the train station, where dozens of vendors were busy selling food and souvenirs to the backpackers making their way toward Machu Picchu. I found a beloved basset hound, but his owner wouldn't sell him.
At a quarter past 9 the train lurched away from Ollantaytambo, and our anticipation grew as we closed on the sacred city, kilometer by kilometer. We sat next to an elderly Chilean and her daughter, and some English students, on their year off. Over an hour later the train puiled into it's destination, Aguas Calientes. This town was built after Hiram Bingham stumbled upon the ruins in 1911. It's caharacterized by dozens of artesan tents, with t shirts, knick knacks, fake Incan statues and whatever else. the town seems to be dominated by hostals and restaurants. Tough it's buried deep within the sacred valley, I counted no less than five internet cafes. we found lodging at the hostal Tumi, down a side steet in upper Aguas.
After dining on fried trout for lunch at Keros, we explored this commercial oddity. Lenay heard about a path leading to an overlook near the town, so she paid a local to take us to the entrance. A sixty year old vendor led us out of the town, along the rail road tracks, to an opening of the Mountain Putukusi. Setting off, it took us an hour and a half to reach the top of the mountain, climbing 100 foot wooden ladders, navigating 3 foot wide paths, and struggling with oxygen at 2400 meters. I honestly didn't expect much to be at the top. My shock though, was palpable.
After spending a half hour gaping at the sacred city, we made the return journey,hoping our fatigued knees would not give out one the climb down. We did make it though, and reflected on our discovery. The rest of the evening was spent wondering Machu Piccu would really be like. However, these thoughts didn't stop Liz and I from enjoying Cristal, and exploring the night life. We visited every bar and dicoteca in town, though all were empty, save the local drunks who would grab Liz for a quick salsa dance. Wiped out from the long day, and afraid of a hangover in the sacred city, I found my excedrin bottle and fell asleep.
Today marked the end of my two week respite since arriving in Cusco. Or rather, I will no longer be spending my afternoons watching pirated movies and drinking Inca cola. It's got to go. It was a great change from the chaotic schedule Lenay and I had in Ecuador, but I've got to see all that is Peru. Why not start with the big one?
Lenay's good friend Liz flew into Cusco this morning. With her came two cases of red bull to satisfy my friend the aficionado, along with some grog, candy, and socks. I have never had warmer feet at night. Liz told me she barely made the weight limit. What she also came to share is the cornerstone of our stay in Peru. Machu Picchu, or 'Old Mountain' in Quechua is what has been weighing down my mind for days. The flagship of Peruvian heritage (and it's tourism industry), it's what all the tour guides have been hounding me about. Lenay set up a trip through Dos Manos, the sister business to our Amauta Spanish school. One hundred and seventy dollars will get us into the ruins, and pay for our train ride to and from the Sacred valley of the Incas. But who can put a price on one of the new seven wonders of the world?
After getting bus tickets at Amauta at 10 AM saturday morning, we all took a taxi ride to a bus station in Cusco, a few short blocks off of the Avenida de la Cultura. As we drove up the hills surrounding the city of Cusco, Liz got her first look at the Peruvian countryside, as varied as it is. Dried brick houses, centuries-old terraces, and breathtaking Andean vistas showed us how beautiful was the land that the Incas once ruled over.
After over an hour of watching the mountains roll by us, we descended upon the town of Pisac, the first leg of our Sacred Valley tour. Though definitely not a large town, Pisac displays the signs of a steady tourism industry, as it lies between Cusco and Machu Picchu. Gringos were present here, and restauranteurs were busy herding them into the many spaces that Pisac has to eat. Taxis lined the main drag, where a driver named Carolina greeted us. She told us of the famous ruins of Pisac, hundreds of meters above the town, that were once inhabited by the ubiquitous empire. She charged us five soles a piece to drive us up there.
The Ruins of Pisac sat at the top of the Andes in this area. Dozens of terraces scarred the mountain side below the abandoned town. To reach it though, Lenay, Liz and I had to follow a narrow path amid the heights, sometimes climbing 500 year old staircases, inches from a violent fall to our deaths (not to sound overdramatic, but it was really high!). At the end of it all we found the ruins of Pisac, with a restored water system still churning it out.
We hung around in Pisac for a while, exploring the market and grabbing some lunch (fried chicken sandwich, just bread and chicken, creative) from a very pushy owner, and caught a bus to Ollantaytambo. The town seemed memorable for several features. First, it sits below a massive ruin site. Secondly, the construction of the village is notable for it's stone and mortar walls, and inlayed drainage ditches. We spent the night here, after getting a light dinner and being serenaded by a local music group.
