Trains, planes and… Hangovers: Cusco and Machu Picchu

As I write this, I’m midway through a day of three flights. Cusco to Lima, Lima to Guayaquil, Guayaquil to Quito. Having left Cusco at 6am, and having been awake since 2, I spent the duration of the first flight perfecting the art of sleeping, balanced, propped up on one arm. It seems the key to success here lies in having enough jumper below you elbow and between face-and-hand to ensure comfort, without having too much and thus compromising the stability of the overall arrangement.

Cusco has been my favourite city on this trip so far; smaller and more concentrated than Buenos Aires and La Paz (at least seemingly so), and dissected by cobbled streets that from the main square disappear uphill to nowhere, the city feels warm and friendly. I stayed at a hostel near the centre of town, and following a 22 hour slog on the bus from La Paz I spent the first day exploring the city on foot, buying more alpaca clothing and generally just eating too much, before crashing.

On Sunday I took the train from Poroy to Aguas Calientes, where I connected for Machu Picchu. Given more time I would’ve liked to do the four day hike, but I settled for the hideously expensive ‘Vistadome’ train option, which came complete with a meal and amazing views across the Sacred Valley. Machu Picchu was amazing, but I feel anyone who visits there has to say that. The story behind the place is beguiling and it’s an incredible feat of engineering and construction, even by today’s standards. The first hour of being up there was an absolute washout – the weather closed in and there was scant to be seen for the mist. By midday it lifted and we managed to get just enough sun for the typical ‘money shot’ of the ruins, which you’ll all be pleased about, I’m sure (cf: my Instagram, shameless self-promoter.)

After a few hours of ambling around it was time to head off – I’m really pleased to have seen it, but didn’t feel as overwhelmed as I’d expected. Whelmed seems more appropriate – perhaps I’m still spoiled from the salt flats in Uyuni. Aguas Calientes is a great little town – nestled amongst the rainforest and with the river running in Rapids through the middle of it. Again though, as with Uyuni, it serves as little more than a means of shoehorning tourists into the bottle neck of The Wonder.

The rest of my time in Cusco was spent walking and walking and walking and walking. A great tour guide took us round the Bohemian quarter of the city, where a famous Luthier treated us to a private performance on a number of indigenous instruments, and then we headed to a restaurant where three courses of local food costed a mere £4, including Pisqo. And of course, that brings me to drinking and drinking and drinking. I lead my flip-pong (like beer pong) team to a miserable loss in the hostel bar (I say ‘lead’ mainly because I shouted ‘this is Sparta!’ a lot and gave everyone nicknames) and checked out the local night life, which was limited but good fun. Turns out the term “hangover” has a different meaning at 3,400m above. Evil.

I’m excited to reach Quito, and to visit Cotopaxi Volcano & National Park. More to follow…

R xo