Weeks 23 & 24: Peru and some quick hops
Kick, kick, kick. Pause. Kick, kick, kick. Throaty cough. Kick. Pause. Kick, kick.
This was my constant rhythm for our overnight journey from Northern Bolivia into Peru. At 10pm, after 4 hours on-board, the bus stopped in Puno and on came 20 or 30 cholita women with their bags and poofy skirts and bully mentality. She was amongst them, the one who would try my patience.
From the start, we were never going to be friends. I, near sleep with my seat reclined at the identical angle to every other passenger on the bus. She, large and indignant at my presumptuousness; not interested in accepting my presence nor the angle of my chair.
For eight wearisome hours we battled. She, kicking, huffing, coughing on me and muttering mean things about me in Quechua. Me, clinching my fists, holding my ground and thinking mean thoughts about her in English.
It was around 4am, I believe, when the strap of her bag went over my seat and around my throat. My abrupt reaction didn’t even seem to fade her. So, the rest of the ride was fraught with tension, not knowing how she would try to kill me next.
Finally, as the sun rose over Cusco, the least favorite bus-ride of my life graciously came to a close. Rachel had mostly slept, occasionally glaring at me, me… thinking I was the instigator of all the commotion.
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From this inglorious beginning, we started our time in the Incan Empire. Cusco (particularly the San Blas neighborhood and historic center) is a majestic city. Cobblestone streets, colonial architecture, Incan stonework everywhere, the Sacred Valley (home to famed Machu Picchu) just over the next ridge. It is, in many ways, the quintessential lovely South American town.
Perhaps for that reason it is decidedly, 100% infested, over-run and spilling over the brim with tourists. We came in ‘low’ season which simply meant that the countless touts — — whose calls of ‘hey lady masaje, massage’ ‘tour now Machu Picchu’ ‘cocaita, marijuana, wha-chu need?’ and ‘I am Pablo Picasso, look my art’ — were just that much more aggressive.
A new one for us was the continuous crow of ‘Sexy Woman, Sexy Woman’ filling the air. I thought this was a bit bold and began to get my protective instinct up when it seemed like this cat call was headed Rachel’s direction. However, we soon found out that ‘sexy woman’ was actually just the name of nearby beautiful Incan ruins — Sacsayhuaman — in existence since before the dawn of English as a language.
There is one upside we’ve found to those places on the road where the local culture has been so totally over-run by an incentive to suck money from the pockets of tourists in any way possible: Breakfast. You’ve got to give it to tourist industry folk, they know their market. Americans love a good greasy spoon and we are no exception. In Cusco, it was Jack’s. During our 5 days in the city, we sampled their delicious OJ, huevos rancheros, pancakes, and smoothies at least 6 times. We also did some good market shopping and wandering around through the once idyllic streets.
Cusco and the Sacred Valley were by far the most unapologetically touristy places we encountered on the trip. They were also amongst the most lovely. Go figure.
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Once we’d had enough, we decided to go ahead, bite the bullet, and take on that most famous of all Latin America tourist hotspots: Machu Picchu.
Aguas Calientes (the town right at the base of Machu Picchu is the epicenter of Sacred Valley tourism and is, in many ways, the very definition of a tourist trap. There are no roads leading to Aguas, only tours. Truly, the only way you can arrive is via a 6-hour, winding, nauseating collectivo ride and then a 6-mile hike (the cheap way); a 2-hour luxury train ride (the fast way); or the 4 day Inca Trail (the sucker’s way, perhaps the most expensive, overcrowded hike in the world). We opted for a combo: fast in, cheap out.
We boarded our train in the lovely, picturesque (yet also wildly touristy) village of Ollantaytambo. The train ride lived up to the hype. If you come to Machu Picchu it is worth the extra expense (at least one way).
Machu Picchu itself also lived up to the hype. It’s hard to imagine being ‘blown away’ by an image you’ve probably seen thousands of times throughout your life. However, for all the hype, for all the built up expectations, Machu Picchu did not disappoint.
Since we didn’t have time or desire for the crowded Inca Trail hike, we did our own abbreviated version in a single day, taking in as much of the famous ruins as possible — alongside our 5,000 closest friends. We left our hotel at 4:30am for the steep 1.5 hour walk up to the park entrance. Then, we entered the park in a wave of humanity, very glad to have purchased the extra ‘Machu Picchu mountain’ experience — only open to a few hundred people per day.
Around 8:30am, we made it to the top in a total cloud. Not more than 200 feet of visibility during our first few hours in the park. However, after more than 4,500 ft of climbing, we soon received a stunning reward. For over two hours, we watched in awe as the clouds lifted — first to reveal the surrounding mountains, then the valley, and finally the coup de gras.
Quietly above all the noise; above the dirty capitalism and corrupt special interests which keep prices to this natural, historical treasure sky high; above the thousands of other tourists here to check this thing off their list of must visit tourist grinds; above the gritty, colonial debasement of the great culture to whom this place was once sacred…we had our moment. The Peruvian sun rising, softly melting away clouds over Machu Picchu was one of the most inspiring and surreal vistas we’ve ever encountered. All the smuck and overcrowding and loud visitors and tourist extortion in the world couldn’t detract from it. And believe us, it tried.
Finally, we came down from our perch and walked the ruins with the masses. By 11:30 or so, the place had cleared out significantly and our experience in Machu Picchu ended up quite lovely. There was even a pack of extremely tame llamas roaming through the ruins — cheaper and quieter than lawnmowers, I suppose. We made friends with them and I took a lovely little nap right in the heart of the once Sacred Valley.
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The top of Machu Picchu was the last ‘outward bound’ journey of the trip. Though ‘the journey north’ began in Patagonia, this felt like a real turning point. The next day, we walked out and bused back to Ollantaytambo, the cheap way. We passed a few days there and another in neighboring Urubamba (apparently the only village in the Sacred Valley with any sort of economy and culture beyond tourism). We worked, updated our budget, wrote a bit, hiked, and bought a car — yep that’s right. Pickin ‘er up today in Dallas.
Back in Cusco for a few nights, Rachel introduced me to This is Us, a touching, funny, and relatable show and the first one I’ve gotten hooked on in years. Rachel also, with less than 3 days to go, broke our perfect streak. The first and — fingers crossed — only puke of the trip came around 3:30am in our San Blas apartment.
Like the trooper she is, she rallied quickly. On Friday, we got our laundry done for the last time of the trip, ate at Jack’s one last time, and boarded a plane for Lima.
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To say our expectations for Lima were low would be a significant understatement. We’ve had a blast exploring the continent, but have found her great cities — Bogotá, Quito, Buenos Aires, Santiago, etc. — a bit underwhelming. Dirty, smoggy, and terrible traffic tend to sum things up nicely.
Lima certainly followed these stereotypes. However, we found the coastal neighborhood of Miraflores to be, hands down, the most livable neighborhood in a large city, maybe anywhere we’ve visited.
We enjoyed a late lunch of cebiche and pisco sours; watched parasailers jumping from the coastal cliffs above surfers lazily rolling in the waves; wandered the (generally quiet and clean streets); and ate delicious crepes as we watched our last sunset over the vast Pacific.
I wrote most of the above on the bumpy flight to Bogotá. Saturday night we picked up another pile from Lily’s house in the city. Yesterday, we barely beat the infamous Colombian filas inefeciencia and flew to Mexico City for a taco pit stop.
In a few hours we board for Dallas where in this particular order we will: 1) eat Chik-fil-a; 2) pick up Janie (our new car); 3) head for Target to pick up all the normal personal hygiene products we have lacked for a long time; and 4) drive to Abilene for Thanksgiving week.
And just like that, Latin America is a wrap. USA here we come.
