I arrived in Cusco at 5 in the morning. I took a cab to the train station to stand in line to buy a ticket to Machu Picchu Pueblo, the town closest to the ruins. I think I was about the 10th person in line. When the gates opened, everyone, very orderly, stands in line and waits for their turn. And we wait. And we wait. And we wait. It turns out that all the people in front of me were buying for other people, be it as a travel agent or someone who had just approached them. The people behind me who could speak Spanish started complaining. Then they started shouting. Then they started chanting. “One for one!” (meaning one ticket per person). Pretty soon the police were called and decided that, starting from me, everyone had to be buying for themselves. From what I could tell, the guy in front of me was the last “travel agent” anyways, so really it was just to calm the masses. And really, if they were all travel agents, and they booked the tickets the day before, the availability of the seats would be exactly the same. I was quite amused. Until it came to it being my turn. I asked for a one-way ticket because I wanted to stay in the town and enjoy the hot springs there. The lady sold me a return ticket for the same day. Now, not staying wasn’t my main concern. Not having enough time to explore the ruins really upset me. The tickets were expensive and I would be here probably only once in my life. I would have gotten it changed but the frenzy of the crowd behind me told me I should just go. I complained but she told me to wait. The train was leaving very soon and who knows how long it I would have had to wait for it. So, I just decided to make the best of it.
Really Drunk Chain-smoking English Guy in his Late 40’s or Even 50’s.
I get on the train and I got the extreme luck of sitting next to Mike. Conversation with him consisted of him asking me the same questions about 4 times and me answering them over the course of 4 hours. Except for “What’s your name?” He remembered that. He knew less Spanish than me so he hung around at each point where Spanish was needed. He told me that he buys and sells books for a living. Then he started to ask a whole bunch of stupid questions about Canada. I told him to buy a book on Canada and read it. Nice enough chap though. We hung out for the next day and a half. I made sure I sat upwind from him though. I don’t think he had showered for a few days.
Hotel room for $20 Soles
There were blood specks on the walls. I had bites on my body in the morning. There was plenty of hot water but, no cold water. Think drug and sex orgy room in Boogie Nights minus any of the glamour. I didn’t even wash up the next morning. I packed up, checked out and found a new hostel. Why did I pick it in the first place? It was dark and raining. It was late. I was exhausted and all other places I went to were full. Except for the place for $70 USD/night, which is way overpriced.
Machu Picchu
I can’t even think of how I can describe this. Would being there, standing in front of these Incan ruins be comparable to standing in front of the Pyramids in Egypt? Or how about the Great Wall of China? Or the Taj Mahal? Or when I stood in Atlantic waters for the first time when I was 29? Yes, this feeling could be closely described like that.
First of all, this place is huge. At the top of a mountain, scores and scores of rocks makeup the structures that were once homes, temples, farms of people. The next mountain over is a vertical green jagged pillar, with clouds hovering almost at the top. It took me (and Mike) about 2.5 hours to move between all the vertical steps ad explore every room. There was another part, even higher, and from what I was told, was Stairmaster uphill for 2 hours, to another part of the ruins. I took a picture from the bottom and continued to explore.
I first went up a hill to the Caretaker’s hut (I think). From there, I got an overview of the whole complex and of the steep drop to the rivers WAY below. This is the classic view from all the pictures you see. But it was much better. You really get the feeling of how small you are in the midst of this place. Clambering down and tying to avoid the tour groups and llamas on the paths, we made our way to the ceremonial site. There was a big rock cut to cast shadows at every equinox (or something like that – excuse my bad understanding of Spanish). When you place you hands over it (no touching) you’re supposed to feel energy radiate from it. Or, because it’s a rock out in the sun…
After that we made our way to the residential area, the prison, the ceremonial/ sacrificial rock and the baths. As much as I don’t want to take the glamour away from this place, I wouldn’t have been able to discern the differences from each of the rooms as they were all stone walls. Mike had a map of the place. I knew I kept him around for something :-). The baths were the only thing that was obvious. Spring water, tapped by the Incas so many years ago still runs down the various channels of rock and spouts constructed in the area.
I wish I could say more but, I feel that if I do, I will not do this place justice. Please have a peak for yourselves.
http://www.ifip.com/Machupijchu1.htm
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