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| The thousand dollar shot - Machu Picchu at opening, empty |
A sprinting finish again, as I try to get this out before we get to the Elephant Nature Park! Oh boy, what a night! I apologize for terrible grammar and spelling. Here we are in Chiang Mai, Thailand and Stephane has joined us. Now I have two terribly handsome and attentive guys here to take care of me. And they've both collapsed upstairs hours ago!
The quick and dirty for those of you with a life and no time to read a novel out there (but don't forget to look at pictures):
- Few last days in Cochabamba
- Trip to Puno and back to Isla Taquile
- Bus to Cusco and a quick stop by customs
- Amazing food in Cusco
- Seeing the ruins, walking a lot and seeing a bus accident (no one hurt, I'll save the suspense)
- The crazy road to Machu Picchu, a miserable day for weather, and finally a little luck
- Thanksgiving at an Irish Pub in Cusco
- Bus to Lima and a mudslide
- Culture shock in Lima - everything's so fancy!
- Coming home - meeting the baby, Mom's first NYC trip, spending time with the Upton/Barba clan
Our last few days were uneventful in Coch, some nice goodbyes, last foods, including last saltenas sadly and some tacos graves. My extra bag (the Buzz one) tore just as we were getting in the cab to leave.
We went to Puno and stayed two nights. Had a day trip back to the island Taquile to pick up the calendar weaving Chris hesitated to buy the first time. A cab driver thought I was Argentinian, best compliment yet. Had some jerky Brits with their iPads loudly commenting we must be bored with life to knit. So I loudly commented back they were jerks.
Loads more but I didn't write it early enough and so I'll leave it at that.
Our bus ride to Cuzco was less eventful than expected. We had problems with the company at first but ended up on a decent bus (probably because I didn´t freak out screaming like I´d seen a french guy do two days before). The bus ended up being filled with yet another class of high school students (all of whom commented on Jesus as they got on the bus).They were less well behaved than I would have hoped. There was lots of loud music and staring at Chris as they went past us to go to the bathroom. Most of the trip was spent staring out the window at the beautiful scenery (while Chris napped) but eventually they put on a movie and so we knit and intermittently watched White Chicks (in English!). I´m ashamed to say I actually laughed - but so did the rest of the bus which showed you just how unintelligent and slapstick the humor was since you didn´t need to understand it to laugh. We didn´t get to see the end though since we arrived in Cuzco before it was over. I´ll assume the good guys won.
We got into the terminal at Cuzco and were immediately attacked by a woman armed with pamphlets and flyers for hostels. By luck, Chris asked about a better area and we learned of a cheaper hostel than what she was offering us and with a private bath. She shooed us into a cab, who tried to overcharge us until Chris showed his superior knowledge of the area and got the price back to normal. He had Bowie playing in the car - nice touch. He dropped us off at Plaza San Blas and a guy from the hostel came down to help us up with the bags. He took Chris´ duffle on his back but I refused to let him take my broken bag. If it was going to break more, it would have to be my fault. It wasn´t too far but it was a straight climb up. I tasted blood by the time I collapsed on the bed. We´d make that walk dozens of times and from lower elevations but that was by far the worst.
The room was very nice. We had a TV (lots of Spanish movies), a private bathroom, and they even gave us towels and TP! It would have been perfect if it hadn´t been for the invisible bugs. I don´t like admitting it but we´ve definitely had some problems with body lice (mostly me - but it´s a misnomer anyway!), which really can´t be helped when you are around people who don´t have the means for proper hygeine. But it´s different when you suddenly start getting bites from a hotel bed. Bed bugs or body lice we´re not sure. It appears to be over now (we changed rooms when we got back from Machu Picchu) but I still can´t wait to wash all of our clothes in a washing machine when we get home.
We hadn´t eaten nearly all day because we´d expected the bus to have a lunch stop. They normally do but this one didn´t. We went to the Indian restaurant Chris remembered from when he and Stephane were here. It was the same couple and they were still importing their spices from Indian but now they only had a buffet because of such high demand for it. We weren´t going to complain. It was delicious and huge. We´d end up going there three times before we left and massively overeating each time. We´d also have really bad indigestion from overeating and the intensity of the spices. May be a preview of things to come when we get to India but still totally worth it.
Those first two days, you really already know because other than exploring the city, I spent at least half of each day writing the last blog. This will become easier with our new Christmas presents - see below.
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| Herding piglets above Tambomachay |
That Wednesday was our first real out and about day in the Cuzco and Sacred Valley area. We´d bought our boleto turistico (the ticket you need to go anywhere and everywhere – which luckily has a very decent student discount with the international student ID card) and so we were ready to get out and go do something. We took the bus up out of the town, which sits in a sort of valley, to the first few ruins that sit just above it. The plan was to do all four (Tambomachay, Pukapukara, Q`enqo, and Saqsayhuamàn) walking and then walk back down to Cusco - only about 7-8 km in total.
Unfortunately, it was a cloudy, dark day but that probably worked in our favor in terms of how many other people were out and about. Tambomachay was our first stop where we climbed a little above the path (still where you are allowed to be though) to sit and look at the ruins and the infamous waterworks. We would hear later in the day that these water paths used to fuel the beloved Cusqueña brewery but no longer do (and theat the beer doesn´t taste as good because of it).
There is a cluster of houses sitting on the hill above the ruins and we watched as a woman and man came down with a flock of sheep (and a dog of course). The woman was dressed in native garb with a baby strapped to her back with a blanket. She did all of the herding while her apparent counterpart just muddled along. I think it was Chris who noted first that the women in South America seem to be the ones who do all the work. In most of the cultures we´ve seen the women are always fully dressed head to toe in native clothes (even when it´s disgustingly hot) while the men are usually in jeans and t-shirts. The women work and shepherd and cultivate fields in these clothes with kids strapped to their backs while the men just watch. A couple days later we would be in a town called Maras, a very small place where in the center there was a group of women working on some kind of a ditch with babies attached to their backs and using pick axes while a group of men half a block away leaned against the church and chatted. The babies were not happy with the situation and frankly, it wasn´t too appealing to Chris or I either. It is amazing what the women in these countries accomplish and how hard they work - at everything.
We left Tambomachay and walked the short ways to Pukapukara - a smaller stone fortification off the side of the highway. Chris is always comparing Incan (Inca/Inka, Cuzco/Cusco ... all about the same) stonework, which is apparently the most interesting part to him. We were immediately approached by a woman who offered us a brief tour. We politely declined since we´ve not had the best experience with guides and prefer to usually just look around ourselves.
The ruins have a great view of the valley, which was only slightly less overcast than when we set off. As we rounded a corner, a couple of hooligan looking youths approached and asked to take their picture with me. I couldn´t understand why and so I said no thanks. A moment later I reasoned that they really wanted a picture with Jesus but it was easier and less obvious to ask for one with me. But then as we headed up to the top of the ruins (not terribly far or high), we were again accosted by high school kids from Brazil. They again asked for pictures with us as soon as they heard we were American (we thought we´d get a much worse reaction than that). I told them they were going to have to explain first but before I knew it I had a bouncy little teenage girl with her arm around me saying it was because I was so good-looking. I shrugged, smiled, and went with it, but let me say that we were head bandana-ed up and as scruffy as could be. Maybe we ought to start charging for this.
Chris practiced a few words of Quechua with them and gave the guide or teacher the opportunity to make fun of the group for the fact that a white, scruffy American could speak Quechua and they couldn´t.
We got up to the top and the site guard (it´s wonderful how many tourist police we´ve seen around) immediately came up after hearing Chris speaking Quechua. We quickly explained the limit to our Quechua skills but ended up talking to a while. He asked us about what the US is really like and about the twin towers movie about 9/11, which we explained we hadn´t seen because it was a little too difficult to watch (and maybe tacky though I don´t know how to say that in Spanish). We helped him a little with his English too - trying to tell him how to get the English-speaking hooligans off the ruin walls.
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| Chris and the valley of Cusco |
We walked a ways to the small town off the same of the road where we´d heard there was good juice. There was. There were also two dogs. One who ignored us completely but the other would played until she tried to playfully bite me and then I didn´t want to play anymore. There were also kitties, which is a fairly rare find from what we´ve seen of South America.
We both felt like we might have been paying for the juice the next day but really there´s no way to tell.
We continued to walk the windy road back toward the next set of ruins. We watched as a bull charged a truck as it passed on the road and waited for him to wander off so we wouldn´t be the next target. There was a side road that led off to what we thought would be the supposed Temple of the Moon (we´ve had a lot of conversations about where they come up with these names or how they can feel so certain in the specifics). We headed down the dirt road and past some teenagers making out before we finally found the site. It was a beautiful place off the road and it was still being excavated. We climbed the rocks over the site before we realized that it was actually below us. Though the rocks above obviously contributed as you could see the places where rock pieces had been carved out.
We stood at the top and looked around us. Multiple small sites in need of excavation could be seen all around. We decided you probably couldn´t walk more than a couple hundred yards in this area before stumbling into some kind of Incan ruins. Quite amazing.
We found a shortcut on a local road to the next site - Q`enqo (ask one of us sometime to pronounce the q-apostrophe, it´s quite fun). This time when someone offered a guide service, we said sure. It actually turned out to be lucky that we did. It didn´t look like much from the outside but it ended up being the most intricate of the sites we saw that day and her explanations were invaluable.
The brief version - on the outside you first encounter a large rock that was previously in the shape of a puma (Cuzco was originally laid out as a puma with the fortress of Saqsayhuaman as the head) but is now mostly formless. But on the winter solstice (when they celebrate Inti Raymi - a festival for the sun god), the shadow of the rock including two holes takes the form of a puma (or a man from a different angle). This related to the Incas as astronomers and they used the site for astronomical observations.
On the top of the site, tourists are no longer allowed to go because people where defaming the animal sculptures. But she told us that there is a part of the site up there where you pour liquid into an open hole and if it flows through one part of the canal (which is in a zigzag pattern, zigzag = Q'enqo) it is good luck but the other is bad. They used to do this for the blood of sacrifices but the locals still do it with chicha.
She told us that there are 365 wakas (sacred sites of worship) for each day of the year (there are actually more but it's still an interesting point).
She took us through the site to the room where the roof is in the shape of a llama drinking water (I'd show you a picture but I'm still not sure that I see it clearly). There they sacrificed llamas (the color of fur matching the god they were sacrificing to) or the children of a slain enemy nation on a big rock slab for the Inca.
The last interesting thing worth mentioning that she told us was that the water that flows at Tambomachay was previously used to make the Cusquena beer we like so much. She of course pointed it out that it doesn't taste the same anymore (not in a good way).
It was really worthwhile going to see the ruins with a guide. We were glad to have made the decision there since she was so knowledgeable and normally we hate tours.
After that we walked back down to the city on another old stone Incan road that ended up being the same road our hostel was on. We found a map that showed the major old Incan trails and realized it may have been the same road we walked on in Ecuador as well. We may not have taken the Incan trail into Machu Picchu but at least we can say we were on the Incan trail in three countries.
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| Fountain in Cusco's central plaza with one of many expensive cafes in the background |
Randomly inserted separate notes on Cusco, mostly in the first or second day I think:
We finally found a nice little vegetarian pension for lunch after looking for two or three restaurants from our Lonely Planet that no longer exist (that's the price you pay for having a three year old version is a place that changes rapidly). We had squash soup, fresh passion fruit juice (Chris is in love with all things passion fruit = maracuya), and sauteed veggies. The best part was at the end of the meal when a remix of my favorite song from Bolivia (played ALL over the place) came on and Chris bolted out of the restaurant. He abhors it. It's called Papa Americano. I think it's fun but it's also the most redundant song I've ever heard. But it's so damn happy! I suggest you check it out. I even played it over Skype for Mom once after her cell phone started playing a song from Snatch.
We walked around a bit in the afternoon and evening (Chris did a lot more walking while I was typing all of this and is now complaining of painful gluts). Everyone is trying to sell something - mainly meals and massages (weird), but also jewelry, cigarettes, textiles, etc. Almost every restaurant has someone ready to jump out and accost you with a menu. It gets to be a bit much but somehow it seems a little more forgivable here since you have to expect it in such a tourist mecca. I accidentally stopped a moment too long in front of a restaurant with an amusing name - Sara Huasi (that means corn house, and no my name doesn't mean house in Quechua). It meant Chris with his brown bandana and huge beard got offered weed for the fourth time down here. I pondered aloud afterward why I don't get ask too and Chris pointed out the obviousness of his appearance.
We found some wonderful paths and great views - thankfully, also some great and less expensive food so we won't always be lost and searching. The side streets and beautiful and when you climb high enough at night the city and churches are bathed in light. Despite the rather awful tourist atmosphere, I find myself quite enchanted by the city already. It just has something here in the buildings and some of the people that maybe you don't find anywhere else. There's just something special in walking down a narrow corridor of tall white wall, meters and meters high, with incan rock work at the base and exchanging evening greetings with a sweet old nun, feeling safe the entire time because of the two cops you just saw around the corner. But you'd probably feel safe without them too. It's a very different feeling and I think I'm really going to like it.
P.S. There's a McDonald's in Cusco. Yuck!
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| Cusco church at night |
The next day, Thursday, we had our first big outing. We went out to the small town of Maras to get to the ruins of Moray. The town was a few kilometers off the main road so the bus dropped us off and we walked up. At the drop off, many taxis were parked waiting for lazy tourists not willing to make the walk. They would hassle us all day along the walk (we walked from Maras to Moray as well - 20k total?), pulling off to see if we wanted a ride.
The town was incredibly small and a good little uphill climb to get to it. This was where we saw the women working with pick axes and babies on there back. It was sunny and warm and we felt awful for them.
I think we ate at the Indian buffet the night before and all the spices were doing a number on our guts. Not actually sick but just a little strong. So we stopped in the square to rest a little while. This was the first time we saw a dog that made us both say, maybe it's a good idea to get up and move away. It was really sad though because it was just a mama pup who was very preggers and probably dying in the sun. But the way she was panting and drooling was a little suspect looking. I'm sure in a small town like that she's still doing okay but it made me think of a dog we saw in the square at Rurrenabaque. It was the saddest old dog I have ever seen and the first time I had ever seen mange. He was missing part of an ear, most of his tail, couldn't use the whole of one leg, missing a lot of his fur, and just looked so old. The sight of him made me cry. It was so miserable to see a poor old creature in such a sad state.
Sad circumstances are so much harder to take in the really young and really old, no matter the species. In Bolivia, you would see so many poor old women on the road begging, crumbled into a small pile on the sidewalk looking like they hadn't moved in months. I remember seeing an old woman in Sucre standing in front of a shop window looking longingly inside. I walked up, ready to buy her whatever food she was looking at, but there was no food. It was a fancy tourist shop with art and jewelry in the display window. Sometimes it's so hard to help people, to know what they want or need.
So anyway, we walked up from Maras to Moray. The walk was beautiful and we only had to anticipate when the taxis were coming to move out of the way. They weren't very good at moving out of the way for us and sometimes they were awfully close to us, especially one very insistent driver we'd had to turn down multiple times. It was just unheard of that tourists would want to walk the entire way and apparently it insulted them. We were equally as pissed off by their reactions though. Oh well.
Otherwise the scenery was gorgeous. The mountains across the valley were tall and snow-capped while the land we walked across was cool and dry. We eventually got around to another village along the way and encountered kids getting out of school. There was a group of boys shooting stones with a slingshot at a plow or some sort of machinery in the fields. We intentionally went up to them to make friends so they wouldn't start shooting at us after we walked by.
Two or three kids were heading to Moray and walked with us the rest of the way. They were curious and shy but we talked a little and they were very cute.
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| The road from Maras to Moray |
We arrived at Moray after a short while. This is a site of multiple sets of sequential circular levels heading down to a final single platform (I'm still a little jet-lagged and this is a little hard to describe). The pictures can't possibly do it credit and it was a beautiful site. They theorize that it could have been an agricultural experiment since each level is a few degrees C cooler or that it was a worship site. The agriculture idea seems so interesting and intelligent and while we'd love to think that way, the site appeared perfect for worship to us (though we're obviously no experts).
We walked up to look for the lookout point we were told not to miss and ran into a group of construction workers who were working on another excavation and wanted to chat a bit (and really wanted to know how much construction workers make in the states). The pointed us in the right direction and we climbed up a bit for a view.
When we got up there, we met a teenage girl who was minding cattle who eagerly came down to talk to us. She was very sweet and interested in talking. Everyone was just so kind (except the crabby cab drivers of course). She also shooed one of her big bulls out of the way for us when I was a little nervous to cross its path.
We made it down into the ruins and met a middle aged couple from New York/Florida and we took turns taking pictures for each other (it's quite a climb down to the bottom on steps that are just stones jutting out the sides of the walls) and chatted a bit.
We were tired and ready to take a cab back since there was still one more site to be. We asked if they would mind us sharing their taxi back (they were driven in and waited for as usually happens). Normally I don't care to insult people's intelligence or assume it's something more than a language barrier, but man their driver was thick. I was speaking quite clearly and this guy just couldn't understand what we wanted. But one of the open drivers did and he jumped in and ruined the situation so that we weren't allowed to share a ride and were forced to pay for our own cab. I was ticked and let Chris make conversation with him on the way back.
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| Goofballs at the ruins of Moray |
When we got back, we had a quick snack in the town (the sort where you watch someone handling your food with their fingers and just pray you won't get sick) and head off for the Salineras (a salt harvesting formation). It was getting later and breezier but we wanted to give it a try. But when we realized we'd been sent on the wrong road, we accepted a ride from a family in a van after they came down on the price. It ended up being a great decision because it was a long curvy road up against a rockface where we wouldn't have had anyway to hide had a car come up while we were walking. Good decision.
The salt water sifts down through the rocks/hillside and there the towns have collectively created layers pools to filter out the salt as it travels downward. It was an amazing formation and a bit of a pain to walk through since there wasn't a real built in path. Chris dipped his hand in the water and spent the rest of the evening trying to get the white off.
We walked along a path past the Salineras to get down the canyon and back to the highway where we were told we could catch a bus back to Cusco. We got down near the town and encountered a drunk guy (surrounded by sober guys) who kept calling Chris John Lennon (there's a new one), as well as a seven or eight year old boy herding cattle with a switch. I feel like such a weakling.
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| Two weird-looking gringos in the center of Moray |
We crossed the river and made it up to the road and walked along having trouble figuring out how to hail the correct bus. We finally got some help and figured out that we were past the big city and would need to take a micro to the terminal and then catch a bus. This worked fine. We bantered with a woman with a baby and an older woman made sure they dropped us in the right spot for the terminal. It's amazing how people were always looking out for us.
Finding a bus was no big deal. We just had to run after it when it was leaving without us. Chris and I had to sit across from each other and I had a window. This came in to play only fifteen or twenty minutes up the road when our bus stopped suddenly to let someone off in the middle of the road (something they aren't supposed to do) and the microbus behind us didn't have enough room to stop. The driver in back had the choice of running into the back of us or trying to pull along side us. He chose the latter and I watched as he came up right next to me and then the bus started to roll down the hill right next to us - maybe fifteen or so feet down. I gasped and turned my head. I turned back in time to see the bus had rolled enough to right itself upright and saw people moving around inside.
I'm please to say that at least we both had the right first reaction. Chris and I immediately jumped to our feet, ready to get off and help. But our driver had the opposite reaction. Maybe feeling some sort of culpability, he stepped on the gas instead. Here is where I'm ashamed to say I hesitated. I did not know what to do. We were already moving and I could see other cars pulling off behind us to help. And then that terrible little thought creeped into my mind, what could I do to help anyway? Chris has great first aid training and plenty of unfortunate experience with rock climbing accidents but I had not. And so I thought, maybe I shouldn't if I can't actually help. We sat down and both fidgeted as my internal struggle went on for several seconds, though it felt like much longer.
Finally, after a short time, I think Chris said something and feeling the same, we both jumped up and insisted they let us off so we could run back. Chris said we were medical students (I said we were doctors, so they would take us a little more seriously) and we needed to run back to help. The few people who'd been yelling at the driver and the attendant now yelled on our behalf. They refused to let us off until the next stop (rather interesting since an unannounced stop started the whole thing to begin with), which was a single building in the middle of nowhere too far to walk back. We decided this was not a good idea. We sat back down in silence, both stewing. I apologized for my bad reaction and finally Chris said again what I felt, our consciences would not live with not going bad.
We took off and Chris and I started to organize and gear up - headlamps and a glove a piece out of Chris' mini first aid bag. We had a little prep talk and soon enough we were there. Jumping out and running down the hill, we saw the police were already there and everyone was just milling around. At first we didn't know what to do, then we found a cop and asked if everyone was okay or if we could be of help. They'd already taken two people to the hospital with what sounded like minor wounds and the rest were unharmed. It felt an enormous relief and although our frantic rush ended up unnecessary, we both felt infinitely better for having done so. And I made a promise to myself to shut up that self-doubting internal voice and always follow my first instinct to do whatever I possibly can to help.
The same driver took us back to the town of Chinchero after pushing us to leave quickly and when we arrived tried to up the price. Chris didn't understand that he was being a jerk and tipped him more than what he was asking for anyway. I didn't love it but it was very kind for Chris to give him what he called beer money.
We stood around waiting for another bus in the chilly night and realized we probably wouldn't be able to flag one down. So we talked the price down on a collectivo - a full taxi - and piled in the back with an old woman and younger woman with her daughter on her lap, while the man that would jokingly pick on us for the rest of the ride sat in front. They were all very personable and we talked for the rest of the ride until we told them the story of what happened and they spent the rest of the time debating who was responsible and saying - why didn't you get the bus' license number? Not something we thought of at the time. The driver taught me a few new words in Quechua and the women taught Chris where he could find good alpaca yarn in town.
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| The Salineras outside of Maras |
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| The white hand of having played in too much salt water |
The next morning was dedicated to finding the bus terminal for the back route to Machu Picchu before we set off for the next ruins at Pisaq. But first we had to have a big breakfast at Jack's Cafe. It was crowded and overly touristy (which of course means more expensive) but I think we'd given up on other places and finally tried it. Big and delicious food I tell you. I had huevos rancheros and refried beans and tortillas are not things you often find in South America. Man was it good.
Cusco is unlike any other city we'd been to in that it had separate bus terminals for each neighboring site. We set off to find the terminal for Santa Teresa and Santa Maria to take the back road into Aguas Calientes - the gateway to Machu Picchu. On the way, we somehow attracted a shepherd, a quite big dog. At first he made me nervous, then I thought he was cute (of course), and then he made me nervous again when he really was herding us and tried to nip at Chris' heels to steer him. When ended up taking a cab to the Pisaq terminal not only because it was late and far but to get away from the dog.
At the terminal, we found the storefronts for the minivans to Santa Teresa and were immediately accosted. I didn't realize that the groups belonged to two separate business until two of the women grabbed me and started to literally pull me and block my way to the other business. It was an easy decision after that but I had this vaguely pissed off feeling for the rest of the morning that I couldn't quite figure out. That'll happen after you're accosted trying to find transportation.
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| Ruins on the back side of Pisaq |
The ride to Pisaq was uneventful and the town itself was full of a touristy market - the same wares we'd seen everywhere else. So we immediately set off up the very, very steep steps up to the ruins. It only took about an hour (much less than predicted) but it was straight up (4k, I think?). The view was amazing and the sun was scorching. When we finally made it up, the hard work paid off. We were nearly the only people we saw or knew of who'd taken the stairs. The rest paid to be driven up to the top and work their way down to another taxi pickup - almost never going uphill. So we arrived at the usual end and worked our way back.
There were nearly five or six separate ruins - not including one of the highest that we accidentally missed the turn off for. The first was our favorite and just spectacular (after the school groups cleared out). We took our time and explored and enjoyed the views of the valley from high up.
When we made it, after a few hours, around to the vehicle drop-off site, we had the thought of paying to get down since it was getting very windy (not good with Chris' hat on) and looked a little stormy. No one would go down without coming back for the group they'd already brought up, so we would have to pay for both ways. Great for the other people but less fabulous for us. We found a school kids path and followed it down (swerving around the area used as a human toilet and moving carefully by some angry goats).
We got down quickly - though Chris quicker than I since I'm less inclined to move fast on steep stairs. We grabbed an ice cream in the town and headed back to Cusco on the bus. Being hot, exhausted, and (as usual) a little car sick, I needed a little air. But opening the window that was only slightly in front of my seat, resulted in two separate people in front of me sequentially leaning over and closing it. I even leaned forward and tried to explain to one but she just pretended to be asleep. It was ironic that the day before we'd had such bad luck traveling but met so many good people but that day did so amazingly well with the sites but had a few jerks around to season the day.
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| Old Pisaq ruins in the foreground, new city in the background - as well as the steep hike |
Saturday was finally our rest day. We went around to all the different museums on the boleto turistico (tourist ticket) and saw some of the markets and what-not. We discovered a literal hole-in-the-wall vegetarian food bar named Prasada that we'd continue to frequent the rest of our trip - really, really delicious and cheap.
It was a cloudy day but we finally made it down to the museum at the Qoricancha. Qoricancha is an Incan site where the Spaniards built a church on top of it. Some of the Incan walls have been uncovered and restored on the inside and some of the walls with their intricate stonework are still apparent on the outside. They have displays of religious (Catholic) art along with the Incan ruins (it made me think a lot of my step-grandmother), along with some modern art exhibits, which I think are fascinating and Chris says he just doesn't get. The garden outside was beautiful though and it was quite relaxing, even though it was cloudy, to just stroll around.
I believe it was the night before when we were cornered by one of the street art salesmen to talk about the famous stone in an Incan wall we passed by every day (the one where all the older tourists in safari hats and vests have to stop to get their picture take with). We both kept an eye out on the street but knew something wasn't quite right when he'd grab Chris' shoulder when he turned.
It wasn't until the next morning that I noticed the two small cuts in my bag. Nothing was missing, fortunately. I took it lightly at first until Chris started getting pissed (it was actually his bag anyway) and I started to feel the violation. He and my mom both hd the same response, what if he'd slipped and hit me instead? Chris said he would have to be able to rum very fast if he did. An unfortunate event but not bad for being our first such encounter this trip.
We went and told a street cop and recommended they actually have someone near the wall at night (that lasted at least a few days). We saw the same art guy a week later. My blood boiled every time he tried to talk to us but I knew yelling at him publically wouldn't do much.
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| Garden at Qoricancha with Incan and Spanish built walls |
We went to sleep early in preparation to get up early the next morning. 4:30 came quickly. We were supposed to be picked up by the transport company before 6am at the plaza San Blas near our hostel. It was one of their selling points. Of course it didn't happen. We waited. It was cold. They finally answered when I called the second time and said the driver hadn't shown up yet. When we got there, the driver was stretched out and relaxed in the van looking like he'd been there a long time.
Our tickets were for 6am Sunday morning to leave for Santa Teresa, from which we would ride to Santa Maria and then to the hydroelectric dam. From the dam you can walk two or three hours along the tracks to get to Aguas Calientes, the town underneath Machu Picchu. We chose to leave the earliest possible specifically so we would get in before dark. Here we were at 6am and we weren't leaving.
We fussed a little a first and then settled down realizing we weren't going to leave until they filled the van. I took to reading out of one of our medical books aloud until Chris said he was no longer paying attention. Things continued to go badly and then a group of Japanese tourists showed up. Despite saying after they got on that we would leave, this didn't happen. Another couple tourists got on and we were full. They all got a better deal than we did. I got out to talk to the woman who sold us the tickets and told her she had lied to us too much (very true, we really don't think she ever intended to send someone to pick us up) and that she should give us the same discount for waiting what ended up being two and a half hours (!!!!?!?!??!). She didn't but I was pissed and I calmly got my point across that it was wrong to lie so much. I went back and sat down. Then Chris noticed her crying. I didn't yell, I didn't swear, I didn't scream, and so it may sound terrible but I didn't feel bad. It was an awful experience and by the time we took off we both felt like Machu Picchu was more something we just wanted to get over so we could finally go home.
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| Courtyard at Qoricancha - Incan ruins beneath the first level arches |
The ride was the worst we've ever been on. Chris said when he got out of the van he wanted to punch the guy he was driving so wrecklessly and on what was yet again called a "death road." What I did see was horrifying - straight drops riding along a cliff - but I didn't see most of it because I had to keep my head down most of the time. I was in the middle of the back seat with no windows. If there'd been a window I would have vomited two or three times. I always get sick but I never vomit. I was grateful when we finally had to stop for a small landslide that had covered the road - the drivers of course weren't and they honked as if it was the construction crew's fault or this would make them get done quicker.
Once we got to the hydroelectric dam, we were ready to get out and walk (after seeing the most disgusting bathroom I think could ever exist in Santa Teresa - really). It took a little more than two hours. There were some tourists walking too but not many. The trail was more populated by locals from the town who can't afford the cost of the train ticket out and so have to walk to catch a micro or collectivo. Aguas Calientes is only accessible by the foreign-owned train company or this back route. We didn't want to give our money to an non-Peruvian company that has a bad reputation for not giving anything back to the community but neither of us felt safe using this route on the way back.
The walk was nice but wearing any amount of weight on your shoulders gets old after a while. It was cloudy and rained a little. We were able to see the back side of Machu Picchu - we would come around to the other side for the entrance. When we arrived in town, we settled buying our ticket to enter (nearly as expensive for locals as strangers), the train ticket, and our hostel. We intended to take the train out the next afternoon and had gone to the office in Cusco where we were reassured we didn't need to buy in advance. Wrong, of course. The afternoon trains of decent prices were full. We unhappily opted to take the train back the next morning and stay another night in Aguas Calientes (a tourist pit unfortunately).
We stayed at a nice place that was unfortunately right along the train tracks but very cheap and owned by a very sweet, eager lady (who thanked us for taking the back route because of how bad the train company is). All the food in town was ridiculously expensive. We were pleased to have brought yogurt and oatmeal. We ate at a Chinese restaurant with a waiter who was amazing with the use of only one arm. It was the earliest we may have ever gone to bed - before 8pm and we were exhausted.
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| The train coming on the path from the hydroelectric dam |
Waking up at 4am, again, we set off on the early hike to Machu Picchu. The ruins can be reached by bus (ten american dollars per person!!) or hiking a side road nearby. The site has more ruins around it, as all of them do, including Wayna Picchu, situated on a slightly higher peak overlooking Machu Picchu. To go to Wayna Picchu, you have to be within the first four hundred people in to get tickets (they let you in in two waves to Wayna, 7am and 10am). So we set off early to be in this group because otherwise all the buses will get there first and climbers have no chance. We didn't know unfortunately that the gates weren't even open til 5am. So after the 15-20 minute walk from town, we had to sit and wait 20-30 minutes with an eager and growing crowd in the dark before they would let us in.
When the gates did open, there was no pushing or shoving fortunately, but we all took off. People crowded a little on the path but this was only problematic in that there was eventually beautiful morning light on the trail and I nearly always had someone shining there headlamp on my feet and it got a little obnoxious. The trail was steep and wet. The light was coming up but it was still dark with a heavy mist. We hauled it up and we within the first twenty people up. I was so proud and thrilled. That was really all I needed. I'd been so nervous it would be too much or I'd be too slow but we did it in almost exactly the forty five minutes predicted and before the first bus showed up.
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| The view from Machu Picchu in the mist |
Right around the time they let us in at 6am, after the real line started to form, the heavens opened wide and the showers began. We rushed in and up and made it to a keeper's hut. That's where I rushed out and took the picture at the very top of the entry. No one else had made it in yet and using Chris' rain jacket to shelter my camera, I took a few pictures.
Being an Arizonan, I had no rain jacket (my first was waiting to be picked up for our SE Asia adventures in an REI in Conshohocken). We only had Chris' and we were soaked. The hut filled up quickly and it started pouring. I tried very hard to keep happy and optimistic but Chris was miserable. He said this was the perfect and appropriate luck for ending our trip in South America. I suggested we go back to the hostel and I'd pay to bus up later or we just shove through and go through quickly soaking wet as we were. We eventually went out of the gates to wait (coffee was way too expensive so Chris didn't get the perking he needed). We waited. Soaking more and with a cold wind, my spirits eventually dampened too. I didn't want to just sit and wait.
Finally, we decided to go in as Chris was certain that if he went back done he wouldn't be coming back up and I knew I couldn't leave without seeing it. We also had our tickets to the later entrance to Wayna Picchu but thought it would probably be too cloudy still to see the magnificent view everyone talks about. We went in and it stopped raining. We walked around in the mist and cold, still soaking wet. But it was beautiful. Such an interesting view, even if Chris was "certain" it wouldn't clear.
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| Clearing mist |
Our time came for Wayna Picchu. After the previous couple hours waiting in the cold and wet, we decided to just go. Coming up the path to Machu Picchu may have been straight up but it was much less steep than this. The entrance even had a warning sign that you must be fit and healthy to climb. It was the first site I'd seen that required a metal cable handrail. It took a half an hour or so and was an excellent work out.
The top level was full of people (even though they didn't even meet the 400 quota for the day) but we found a lower level with a better view. We perched and waited and snapped pictures as the mist allowed short, partial views of the site. An American couple came and sat nearby and we chatted a while (she works for a children's organization in Uganda where we might try to volunteer someday). And then our first luck struck, it cleared. We had beautiful views of the ruins below and it finally started to dry us out as well.
After a couple hours, we started down (very steep and slick) and went to the second, smaller peak that had a lookout point as well. We walked through and out to have a snack and bathroom break (you aren't supposed to be able to bring any food in, which we didn't but everyone else did - including a sweet old Asian woman who earlier saw our distraught, wet faces and offered us food). We brought our own food of course, and luckily given the hotel's lunch buffet was more than 35 US dollars (ouch!). Lots of old people there.
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| On Wayna Picchu with the bus path in the background |
We went back in and made the long climb to the star gate where the Inca trail comes in (a couple groups came in that day - bad luck in the morning). Yet another beautiful view. Otherwise, we walked to a wall where we sat (no climbing on it though!) to enjoy the view and wandered around. We actually got shooed out as the site closed an hour earlier than we'd thought it would. Chris was a little disappointed but it was nice to have opened and closed the place. We walked the path back down and into town.
We decided we were very glad to be staying til the next morning and not rushed to catch a train. We went to our hostel owner's little restaurant (not very well frequented and needing customers) and had pizza and beer. While we waited, her granddaughters accosted us. They were cute but grabbing for our drinks and trying continually to tickle me got a little old. The stone oven baked pizza was actually amazing and our favorite beer was the nectar of the gods after such a long day.
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| Machu Picchu in the mist from Wayna Picchu |
We again woke earlier than 4:30 and went to catch the train. The other riders near us were a British couple we'd swapped photo-taking favors with and we chatted a bit. We stayed awake and watched the light coming through the clouds on the train. They served us a little bit of breakfast with real coffee for Chris. So early, our fancy tourist car was nearly empty but staffed by two well dressed young men. Eventually I lay down and slept a bit, they stared a lot since I guess not a lot of people do that.
The train ride, which Chris loved despite himself, ended for us in Ollantaytambo. This is yet another ruin site and a favorite of Chris' when he and Stephane were there last. We were both tired but we used our boleto and went in to walk around. This is the one site where the Incans were victorious against the Spanish but they had to flood the valley to be so. Chris loves learning about the way Incans controlled water. It is certainly fascinating and the canals at Ollantaytambo were beautiful. We walked around in the town beneath, which was another example of preserved Incan buildings, before getting on the bus back to Cusco.
We had to take a collectivo to a larger city first and sat with a Brazilian man in the back row. The women who owned the restaurant we ate in were in front of us. The young guy started talking to us and showing his art. He was interested in a lot of English words but also obviously a little off. The woman in front tried to warn/protect us, making the loco/crazy sign at me. A little psychotic or maybe just manic but certainly interesting. Not wanting to tempt fate, we grabbed a different bus to Cusco.
In Cusco, despite a reservation, they of course didn't have a matrimonio bed available for us and we ended up in a room with five beds (we threw our things on all of them) and a shower that wet the whole bathroom but never evaporated because there were no windows. We went to the Indian buffet to reward ourselves for our hard work.
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| View from Wayna Picchu with Machu in the background |
Thursday was our last day to use the boleto for all the tourist sites. So we went up to Saqsayhuaman (pronounced - sax-eye-woemahn, i.e. sexy woman). This was the fortress of the city and the head of the supposed puma shape of Cusco (with rock outcroppings you can still see in the shape of teeth). This was the most densely populated site we visited (maybe even more than Machu Picchu despite all the groups that showed up in the afternoon) and much of it was closed off. This was where Chris and Stephane, by complete dumb luck, where able to see the winter solstice festival of Inti Raymi. We went to the opposite side and sat to enjoy the view. Then, we went to where Chris knew there were rocks to slide on. There are some interesting videos and pictures from that.
Thursday was also Thanksgiving and I think we were both a little sad to be away from home. We called family and then went to an Irish pub and had a pretty close to real Thanksgiving dinner - chicken breast with stuffing, mashed potatoes, veggies, and wine (no cranberries we've ever seen in Peru). It was delicious and we relaxed and watched a futbol match.
Friday was our last long day in Cuzco. We walked to the bus station and bought our tickets - a little more expensive to go with a reputable company. We spent the day eating and doing last minute shopping - as I can remember.
Saturday was our last day in Cuzco. We got up decently earlier and walked around. We of course had to stop by Chris´ favorite cafè for a coffee. And we just happened to see the tour tram on the main plaza. It had a decent student discount and went to a lot of the historic sites. We were interested in hearing more about the history of all the sites we´d seen and so we figured why not. It was only a little more than an hour ride in one of the original (1910s?) historic trolleys. Unfortunately, the guide did little more than saying the name of each place as it placed by. It was a pleasant ride though and a good opportunity to take photos. This was probably the most touristy thing we did in Cuzco, which is a little ironic if you think about it. But it involved a lot of school kids staring and waving when we passed which was pretty cute.
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| Elvis pose for my stepdad at Ollantaytambo |
We headed through a few of the Saturday markets and were disappointingly similar in their wares. Apparently Cuzco is a thriving enough tourist center that no one has any incentive to do anything original. Most of what we saw were the same machine made items over and over.
We went back to the hostel to do a quick pack so we´d be ready for our late afternoon bus to Lima. Unfortunately, despite having stayed nearly two weeks and given them great business (not to mention that the hostel was nearly empty), they didn´t like that we were trying to check out late and tried to charge us for another day. I can hear the argument both ways but as I said, it was empty and they certainly wouldn´t have lost any business to let us stay in the room a couple hours more. It was an appropriate note on which to end our customer service experience in South America.
Arriving early for the bus, we waited with the misperception that everything was under control. Despite having some of the roomiest seats on the bus and plenty of space for our extra bags, they wouldn't let us bring much on the bus and we had to pay an extra baggage fee. I fought that one tooth and nail having come all the way from Bolivia without paying more but it didn't make a difference. We were fed up and ready to get out - even more fed up when we saw the enormous bag someone was allowed to bring on and block the aisle with. Double standards abound.
The bus ride was uneventful until we got a few hours in. We'd been watching Face/Off in Spanish (not a movie you need to understand to watch anyway) and traffic came to a halt. We'd wait there, usually with the bus off (and the movie turned off fifteen minutes to the end), for another two hours before we'd move again. There'd been a mud slide and once it had finally been cleared, another bus would get stuck in the remaining mud and cost us another hour of waiting. The people on the bus were loud and fed up with waiting but somehow never seem to understand that impatience won't change the situation. So they began stomping on the floor and pounding on the windows that they wanted to go around the bus. This was not productive and Chris and I started to hate life. Eventually we started moving and they all stopped. Time for sleep.
The next morning, the attendant drove Chris mad with music videos. He eventually put on Pay it Forward and Face/Off again, from the beginning. We got a little bit of food on the bus. There was a bathroom but it was disgusting - urine literally sloshing around on the floor.
We got to Lima and took a cab to Miraflores, the nicer area of the city. We let the driver take us around to different hostels. For a decent price, we settled on a too fancy for us backpacker's hostel in the center of things. It was my first time in a dorm-style room with you guessed it, all guys. There was a young American in the bunks across from us who'd just gotten done with a few months of conservation work in the jungle and was heading home. The Australians weren't terribly friendly but they were good at turning on lights and making lots of noise when they came in and out at night. I slept through most of it. Chris didn't.
Before settling down, we (showered first of course) walked down to the shore (really a cliff overlooking the shore) where they had multiple American restaurants/fast food chains and far too many tourists. It was a huge culture shock for us, especially with so many people speaking English. But it was probably a good first step before we actually got home.
We ate Chinese and had our last Cusquena beer. We walked through an arts show in the park with ice cream for Chris (he finished mine too) and headed back for bed.
We woke up early with the plan to meet our cab driver from the day before to take us to the airport. It was chilly and misty. We waited outside and had to deal with every cab driver stopping as they passed by. We gave him half an hour. He never came, which was even more unfortunate given we figured out the night before after we'd arranged with him that our flight was actually an hour and a half later than we thought, so we could have slept in and had the free breakfast. We got a different cab and arrived more than an hour before our flight company's check-in counter even opened.
Chris was terribly excited to have Dunkin Donuts in the airport before we got on the plane. We changed planes in El Salvador, where we had to go through a separate security line to get through and had an actual pat down. We sat next to a nice, talkative El Salvador-born, native New Yorker on the plane who made me feel we didn't smell too, too bad after our adventures. The speakers didn't work but it was a chick flick anyway.
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| Uncle and Liam |
Chris was eager to get through customs at JFK quickly since his parents were waiting on the other side. We got one bag off the belt and had to wait nearly twenty minutes before the other two came - we both had to pee. We moved through customs without being stopped and set things done to reorganize. When I picked my big bag up again, I threw my back out for the first time in my life. It made the three hour ride back to Bloomsburg a bit uncomfortable.
When we exited the gates, Chris' mom was on the other side jumping and waving. Apparently, his dad had told her she shouldn't yell too. It was great meeting. The order of operations from there that I loved to tell people was that we stopped and I drank water from a public fountain, I went to the bathroom and put paper in the toilet, and then I ate an apple in the car. God I love my country.
We slept well at home and did some grocery shopping - all the things we were dying to eat (including my fake milk and fake sausage patties). Chris' dad had a long day at work (Chris brought him coffee before I woke up though). The three of us went up to Chris' brother and his wife's house that night (Dan and Meghan) to meet the baby that night. Liam was adorable, if a little fussy with us. Chris was thrilled to just get to hold him so much - and to have pizza. I was psyched to have pumpkin pie - but babies are good too. Meghan's parents came over to say hi. We watched the NYC tree lighting and then a little of the Victoria's Secret Special - for which Meghan's dad, Neil, felt the need to bring Liam in to start him in the right direction early.
The next day was devoted mainly to going to Philly (again the three of us, Chris, his mom - Wendy, and I) to pick up my mother, with a quick stop at REI on the way. We ended up in the wrong terminal but the mothers had exchanged cell numbers. I ran to the other terminal to meet her. I was that excited to see her. What, that's surprising? People should appreciate their parents more and not be afraid to be a little more affectionate.
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| Christmas tree in Rockefeller Plaza |
We went to some of the big shops, including FAO Schwarz (misspelled I'm sure) where I loved seeing the muppet workshop and Mom loved seeing the kids playing on the big piano from Big. We went on the studio tour at NBC, where I was sad to learn that 30 Rock is actually filmed in Queens. The Christmas tree and ice skating rink at Rockefeller center were very pretty, if a bit smaller than they seem on TV. We left to look for authentic NY food but never found much and ate in a chain cafe instead.
From the cafe, Mom saw that our bus (no reservations allowed) was supposed to be leaving in twenty minutes (I don't have a cell phone and she left hers at the house so time was a big problem that day). So we booked it. Mom thought I was going to kill her with traffic but we made it back to the Port Authority on foot without problems. I went to check that we were at the correct door. I'm sure I looked lost because the voice that said What you need, darlin? was our driver from that morning. Turns out the other clock was wrong and we still had half an hour before leaving after running to get there. Better early than late though. We had the same driver and Chris and his dad picked us up in Wilkes-barre.
Chris' dad took Friday off work and Dan dropped Meghan and Liam off to spend the day with us while he was at work (an ophthalmology intern). It was a nice relaxed day. Mom and I wanted to go take the dogs on a walk with Chris' dad - Mike. Turned out to be miserably cold though. Wendy went out of her way to make a lovely Thanksgiving dinner for us, for which I was so grateful, and we had ice cream with all the sweet treats Mom had brought from home. Mom took the Upton family picture in front of the tree too. Quite cute if a little too coordinated in all red and green (except Liam with reindeer ears on, so damned cute).
Oh and we did our present thing of course. I knew Mom got Chris a Kindle for his birthday - what I was hinting at about something making blog life easier - but I didn't know she'd gotten me one too. I'm typing a bit know and it should be a huge help for next time. Thanks Mom!!
Saturday we headed up to Chris' grandmother Margie's with a stop at Den and Leanne's, where we got to meet their granddaughter Eilir (that has to be spelled wrong, I'm sorry). She was gorgeous! About ten months old, I think. Such a fun age. They made their famous stromboli which Chris happily scarfed down. It was a short visit but so wonderful to see them and the girls and their beautiful house.
We made it into Doylestown and settled in for the family part on Sunday. I think there ended up being around 25 people (not too bad for the Barba clan). I think poor Mom was a little overwhelmed at first but she held her own quite well. Dan and Meghan came down with the baby of course and Chris was good about using his trump card to hold the baby. It was lovely to get to see everyone, brief though it was, and everyone was very generous to Chris and I for his birthday and Christmas (thank you!!). That night Chris had to say goodbye to his brother and the baby as well as his dad and the dogs (who always come out with them). It was a rough night.
Monday was for going to Philadelphia for some brief history and a philly cheesesteak for Mom before she had to go to the airport. Wendy and Chris were both a little stressed at the idea of driving in Philly. So Uncle Don was incredible enough to volunteer to drive us around. He was so helpful and an amazing guide (we even drove past Rocky!), plus he's such a great guy to be around anyway. We went to Independence hall and the Liberty Bell and Mom got her cheesesteak. A rushed trip but a successful one. Always hard saying bye of course.
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| Mom's first Philly cheesesteak and Chris with a big mouthfull |
We went back to Doylestown for the evening to hang out with the family - Margie, Mary, and Mike (aunt and uncle). Chris has an amazing family and they are always so welcoming to me and I'm very grateful for how welcoming they were to my mother as well.
Originally the idea had been to stay in NYC overnight but we thought better to wake early and drive in the same morning. Chris was the driver. We left at 4am and got Dunkin Donuts on the way of course. It was uneventful and we didn't hit traffic. Thankful, Wendy made it home okay too.
A few final, salient thoughts from our South American trip or a few rules/observations to live by if you will:
- It is possible to drink liquid out of a plastic bag
- The person who first said patience is a virtue was somehow related to the South American transportation/bus system
- People will never cease to be amazed by a man knitting
- Taxi drivers on the whole are relentless and maybe even a little ruthless buy individually are friendly and very helpful
- Always question motives in the tourist industry
- The people who have the least and usually those willing to give the most
- People are usually more friendly than you give them credit for
- Think hard about the stresses of living and working with people at the same time
- Salad - me hace falta. That is all
- Governments often get in the way of what their people truly need with mountains of red tape
- The moment you accept that all people are innately good and trustworthy is unfortunately the moment most likely for something bad to happen
- Everytinhg can be bright and positive when looked at in the appropriate light
- When in doubt, follow a local
- When abroad you will recognize the small things you always took for granted but cannot guarantee that you will never take them for granted again
I'm sure I had tons more to say but your brains are full and my fingers are tired. The details will come out later in all those catch-up stories we can't wait to have. Can't wait to hear all of yours too.
What a ride!!! Well now our first half is over and we are grateful to everyone we met for making it such an amazing trip and in many ways a valuable learning experience. This next bit, I think we'll doing a little less work and a little more relaxing and see how that goes. As everyone likes to point out, we'll have the medicine waiting for us for the rest of our lives. And now we're off to see the elephants.
Wishing you love and happiness with a warm and family filled holiday from southeast Asia,
With much love,
Sara and Chris
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| Your happy thought for the day - Bandit, my snuggle pup - I really need a dog when we get home!! |
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