Machu Picchu

On Aug. 1st my Mom and Knox Turner arrived for a two week visit. Finally, after almost 2 years, I’d have the opportunity to visit Cusco and Peru’s most famous attraction- Machu Picchu. We decided to leave one week for Cusco in the south and the second week for the north- Trujillo and Carata. Mom claimed if she were to make the trip all the way to Perú she couldn’t miss out on seeing Carata.

I met the two at Aeropuerto Internacional-Jorge Chávez and we stayed overnight in a hotel nearby. Only looks were deceiving. From the website, ¨Hotel Victor¨ appeared impressive, clean and comfortable. Fortunately for us the place was locked into a gated cul-de-sac, because the surrounding neighborhood was a real slum. Imagine dirt streets, condemned buildings, broken down cars on every corner, and garbage burning on the side of the road. It made the Bronx seem like Beverly Hills. Just when Perú defined poverty, the slums of Lima redefined it again.

PC has wanted to place more PCV´s in the outskirts of greater metropolitan Lima, but in almost every case of site development they couldn’t even find suitable homes that met safety standards. Straw mat lean to's just don’t cut it. Some say there is more poverty in Lima than any other region of the country.

The following morning we awoke and went back to the airport to fly to Cusco. A 50 minute flight or a 30 hour bus ride. With those kinds of options who wouldn’t fly? There’s word of a new train from Lima to Cusco, but I think it’s just wishful thinking. Cusco was everything I imagined, excellent food, a clean, colonial atmosphere, and more history to absorb than any other Peruvian city I’ve visited. Everything was going as planned until my Mom came down with a paralyzing pain in the back of her head. She said she could feel it moving from behind her ears, wrapping itself around to the front. When the pain didn’t cease, we got worried and rushed to a hospital.

Surprisingly, we were quickly attended and the bilingual staff made us feel more at ease. The Doc seemed to think it was only stress related, and wanted to admit her just to err on the side of caution. What a frightening experience though, especially for Mom to loose even more of her independence in another country, in a different language with a bizarre health care system. She agreed to stay overnight and physical therapy scheduled three visits. An IV was started to relieve residual pain.
The hospital tour wasn’t part of the itinerary but at least Mom was in the city when this happened. We were scheduled to start an expedition with Q´ente Tours (Q´ente= Hummingbird in Quechua) that Sunday, which meant camping in the sacred valley on the way to Machu Picchu. We wouldn’t recommend the hospital, but rather, the Dutch run Niño’s Hotel. http://www.ninoshotel.com/

Sunday morning began early with a hotel pickup by Q´ente. Carlos introduced himself as our young, humble guide for the next four days. We drove out of Cusco heading west to the town of Izcuchaca than to Huarocondo and finally to Socma. Adobe homes whipped by in the van window, farmers attended to their cattle and the bright warm sun rose above the green mountain tops. Our group was small, just five in total, two babes from Wales, Jennifer and Anna, and the three of us. Our staff on the other hand consisted of 5-6 men, various horses, food and equipment.

That first day we hiked slowly, as Carlos stopped to teach us about culture, history, geography, politics (and everything else under the sun really). As we winded up the switchbacks, we came across a beautiful waterfall. An archaeological site was pointed out to the left, former Incan ruins I suppose. Lunch was served picnic style. We ate and rested and hiked another 20 minutes to the unofficial campsite. (The first choice campsite, farther ahead, didn’t have water) The sun set, and as darkness fell upon us, it got cold! We were at 3,400m. Carlos taught us about the southern hemisphere’s solar system. Fascinating.

Breakfast was served and we took off for the second full day of hiking. We left the village of Perolyniyoc and huffed up to Arrayan sweating. Breaks were necessary. I felt like we had reached the highest elevation at that point. From this pass we were confronted by neighboring snow capped mountains. I had read about Mt. Ausangate and had been thinking about a trek through that part of southern Perú. At 6384m it’s the highest Mt. in southern Peru. Carlos pointed it out as the third peak to the left. As we made our decent I thought about how sacred this region was, and allowed the Incan concept of respecting nature to set in.

What a unique experience, to walk the same route that an ancient civilization had inhabited. This was even more meaningful than last weeks trip on Santa Cruz in Ancash. Mom was holding her own, actually I was very proud. Considering she was a recent hospital patient 2 days before and presently scaling 10,000ft mountains with little difficulty. Knox was up for the adventure, as long as he didn’t have to sleep by the tent door.

The third day was easily the hardest-75% of the trek was hiking downhill on very slippery terrain. Fortunately we stopped to see a quarry and a burial tomb along the way. In an effort to descend faster, Mom rode one of the horses for a minute but quickly dismounted, exclaiming, “It was the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life”.

We passed some aqueducts and spotted the train tracks to Machu Picchu in the distance. Ollantaytambo became visible in the valley below. After lunch by the river, we thanked the staff and took off in a van to the town of Ollantaytambo to catch the train. I took my boots off and slipped on my Reefs. Heaven. Our feet were badly blistered and bruised at that point.

If only we had more time, I would have loved to wander those ancient streets. This unique village was bustling with tourists but maintained an inviting, comforting feeling. It occurred to me that one could easily spend 2-4 weeks in the entire sacred valley region, sightseeing between Cusco and Aguas Calientes before even seeing the trophy site-Machu Picchu.

The train was a welcomed change of transport, since walking the past 2.5 days. We desperately needed to shower. Carlos claimed the hotel in Aguas Calientes was casi 5 estrellas- laughing under his breath as any seasoned Peruvian guide would do. Clearly there are no 5 star hotels south of Texas.

So I just laughed when my mom stood naked in the shower, waiting for water. We called the reception (by shouting down the hall-mind you) and they sent “some guy” who accidentally pulled the knobs right off the shower wall-spraying water everywhere. We changed rooms two more times before actually taking hot showers. This town is known as Hot Waters for heavens sake. 5 stars….Riggggght.

Dinner at a Thai restaurant made up for the substandard hotel and a quick dip in the hot thermal baths encouraged a good night’s sleep. That next morning (Wednesday) we’d leave for Machu Picchu early, before the big crowds.

Wake up! Here’s the moment you’ve been waiting for! MP! The surrounding green mountains were a lush green, even during the dry season. Actually the periphery is better described not as mountainous but as towering tropical peaks. The Urubamba Valley is breathtaking. These peaks protected the fortress from intruders. Although our time was limited, Carlos took the five of us to the most popular sites, explaining in detail the current theories behind this mysterious site. We had the chance to wander- And although I would have liked to climb Huayna Picchu (A tall peak across the ruins) for lack of time, we walked to an Incan bridge. It was time to head back to Aguas Calientes and eat lunch before catching the train. I had head about the “chaskys” (sp?) from other PC volunteers who have been to MP but had forgotten until I saw little boys running the switchbacks down the mountain, chasing our bus, screaming their way down. Dressed in traditional Incan gowns, these little messengers recreate the traditional message relaying system for present day tourists. Impressed, with their “skills to pay the bills” I easily gave them a tip when one boy boarded our bus. It was surely more impressive than the musicians on city buses, or the Maca/anti-parasite/vitamin/teethwhitening salesmen on buses to my site.

I hated to leave Cusco, but it was time to head north to La Libertad and pay Trujillo and Carata a visit. From Cusco we flew to Lima. To pass the time between flights we played a rather enjoyable 2 hour long game of world geography. The flight to Trujillo is short- a mere 50 minutes compared to the 9 hour bus ride. For the first time in Peru’s history TIME MENT MONEY. I love traveling with rich gringos-spend a little extra to save time. What a concept. My Peruvian host family would op for a painful 20 hour ride-above a tractor trailer to save a few bucks. Not the Lindsleys.

That next day we toured the city by means of errands-the bank, post office, laundry, etc. In the afternoon we drove out to Salaverry a port town, to visit some fellow Americans. A US navel ship (USS Comfort) was anchored out at sea and two groups of health personnel had been split between two public schools. One in Salaverry and the other in Trujillo. For a full week the floating hospital provided free health care to the public. We caught them on a Thursday, at the end of their week, but managed to get a tour and learn about the program. The ship had been on tour for a number of months through Central/South America. They saw patients for dental/vision problems, cleft lip/palate surgeries and more. I was very impressed with the organization and leadership by our military. We were guided through the large school with a sergeant whom was happy to have Peace Corps volunteers helping with translation. Unfortunately we didn’t get to physically help, nor translate because they were finishing up for the day. However, I enjoyed just watching the Peruvian Army and the US military join forces to offer health services and build classrooms.

That night we visited my host family-the extended family that is. The neighborhood is called La Rinconada and it’s one of the poorer regions of the city but certainly not the poorest. When I come into town from my site, the family makes room for me to stay. I’ve saved a lot of money that way (instead of on hotels, restaurants) but usually there’s no water, nor toilet seats, average food, hard beds, rats, cockroaches, and lots of screaming babies and/or children. In spite of all that, the chaotic atmosphere is exciting and definitely a different environment than home. For example, one morning I awoke early and found the baby, Fernando sitting on the kitchen floor eating a tub of butter. Grinning, he looked up at me and I thought, there’s a breakfast of champions.

Mom was down with the house though, she meet Gladis, Melva, Jhonny, Jesus, Anel, and Fernando. Knox was a great translator between the group and we told them all about Cusco, the hospital and Machu Picchu. It’s sad to think that they may never have the opportunity to go, due to economic strains and this “World Wonder” is in their own country. Than on the way back to our hotel I lost my wallet. It fell off my lap onto the floor of the taxi as we got out. It was one of those forgettable moments of realization in the middle of the street. MY WALLET! NOOOOO!!! I patted my sides down instinctively for the next hour hoping it would suddenly appear, but it was gone. I called our safety and security director, Enrique Navarro, and he talked me through the process of canceling the cards, and filing a police report the next morning. My wallet contained S/.100 (Nuevos Soles) which is roughly $30.00. Only a PCV would make such a fuss over such a small amount of cash.

So instead of heading up to Carata, we went on another unplanned tour of the police headquarters (La comisaria) to file a complaint. While in line I could hear the officer behind his cardboard thin wall, chicken pecking on a typewriter. And I thought, “Wow, This could take a while…” Finally, I walked into his office and immediately noticed the enormous crucifix of Christ on the wall, and to the left of it, an X-rated poster of a topless gringa. What a dichotomy. The entire country has these sharp differences-opposing one another. Que raro.

Saturday morning we left for Carata, but we only reached the town of Poroto, 25km from the city when the radiator on Johnny’s taxi pooped out. We could either wait on the side of the road and hitchhike up to Carata (3 hours away), or turn back so he could get it fixed and than leave in the morning. Driving at night was not an option. Way too dangerous, especially the way he drove. So we turned back and stayed in La Rinconada another night. Slightly depressed, but getting used to disappointment, we decided to see a movie. Usually that’s a foolproof means of entertainment. Although one time the volume went out and the whole theatre began screaming at the film operator. Lucky, we had no such problem.

The hotel in La Rinconada was laughable. You could designate it- Ghetto Hotel #3. Although it’s known as “THE SWEET LIFE” (La Dulce Vida) to locals. I began to think Knox and Mom were beginning to either give up on Peru, or settle right into the insanity. The speeding taxis, begging children, public urination, missing shower curtains and toilet seats, feral dogs, trash piles, endless waiting, contaminated water (when available), gnarly food, rock hard pillows, and destitute poor were just too much for one vacation. The past 24 hours had been hell, a hell that was the nadir to all previous months of preparation.

At last we arrived in Carata, we had missed yesterdays meeting with health promoters, who wanted to meet my fam. It was irrelevant at that point. We could count all of our limbs and that was more important. I sleep like a dead horse that night. I’d bet that Mom enjoyed Carata, we took her up to the Cruz, and to the reservoir, to see the water project. Knox and her dispersed gifts to the family. They even brought some sand dollars (surprisingly intact) from the ocean, and we told them the story of the doves inside. They had never seen such a thing. It was a gift from our family to yours, Knox explained.

In the end Mom finally saw Carata, and spent two nights in my site. The electricity when out the second night, but we didn’t even care, at least we had each other. The morning they flew out of Lima a 7.5 magnitude earthquake hit southern Peru. At that point they were on their way home to Concord, NH. It sure was an unforgettable trip.

Another popular trek near Machu Picchu is called Choquequirao. Those that have been there are saying it could be bigger than MP. An online source states,

"Choquequirao (Golden Cradle) is considered the Sister City of Machu Picchu, because of several similarities, it hangs 1,500 meters above the Apurimac Canyon, and Machupicchu hangs above the Urubamba canyon. It was a religious and administrative center. It is at the same latitude and it is a large citadel with more of 8 hectares, only one third has been uncovered and every day archeologists are finding new things."