Despite the fact that it is only a 5 hour ride we opted to take the more expensive Cruz Del Sur bus from Puno to Arequipa. It was an extra 10 soles ($3) but our previous experiences with this bus operator had been excellent. Comfortable buses. Secure, reliable, and on schedule service. They even have a steward on board who presides over "in-flight" entertainment (bingo, kareoke, and movies) and you get refreshments. For a long haul the advantages are obvious and almost necessary. For the ride from Puno to Arequipa it was purely for luxury. The bus was not scheduled to leave until 3pm so we had a few hours to kill in Puno before our departure...
which was a good thing as the people of Puno were celebrating The Virgin De La Candalaria fiesta with processions of folk music and dance all day at the local football stadium. We checked out of our room and made for the stadium that morning. Unfortunately the weather was less than ideal. Wind was blowing in off the lake and rain clouds were gathering in the sky. Before we could make a decision on what to do, it started to rain. Amy, with her umbrella in tow, still wanted to take part in the fiesta. I was ready to find the nearest internet shop and blog off. So, we agreed to meet up at 1130 for lunch and I headed off in search of a connection while Mo bared the ques of people and the elements to celebrate some virgin who was likely never a virgin. While I was surfing the cyber waves the weather improved and, eventually the sun made an appearance. When I met up with Amy I decided to join her back at the stadium and fiesta. It was all quite confusing but entertaining at the same time and I am glad that the weather improved enough to encourage me attend the festivities. All good things must come to an end and we eventually made our way out to the terminal terrestre to catch our bus.
As per usual the Cruz Del Sur bus was right on schedule and we left Lake Titicaca and the city of Puno just after 3pm. We passed through some beautiful green Andean countryside as the bus purred on towards Arequipa 5 hours away. After some crazy Chris Rock movie-I forget he title-dubbed in Spanish (with English subtitles) we played a round of bingo, with the winner getting a free ride for the day. It was a long game of blackout with several interuptions for kareoke* and dancing in the aisles. The game finally ended with two winners. There was more dancing in the aisles as the cards were collected. Bus rides are not supposed to be this much fun, right? Right! The next thing I know there is a bang and the bus engine cuts out while we are climbing a pretty steep hill. We pull over and the drivers/mechanics manage to get the bus running again but it does not sound healthy and there is a thick, black smoke billowing out. When the driver put the bus in gear he had to redline it just to get us rolling forward. Not good. At this point, our situation is desparate as we are on a steep incline and a curve. Cars, buses and trucks are whizzing by us with their horns blaring. After several attempts to go forward the drivers decide, in their infinite wisdom, that it is no use. We start to coast backwards down the hill to a flat part of the road. Not pleasant. After about another half hour another bus-much smaller-shows up and we are told that this will be our coach the rest of the way. Swell. Next, we are told that we will have to pay the driver of the new bus 10 soles each in order to get to Arequipa. Not so swell. Arguments break out in Castellano (Spanish). People are not happy, some people have connections to make to Lima. The situation is deteriorating. Finally everyone climbs off the Cruz Del Sur bus and with the peril of being smacked by passing traffic collects their luggage and drags it over to the mini bus. We all pile in with luggage stacked to the ceiling and barely enough room for a beer fart-that doesnīt stop the guy in front of us, who is dropping bombs like US airships over Laos in 1968. The good thing is that we are back under way. As the sun sets everyone settles in for the long cold haul to Arequipa.
In our new bus we pass some high Andean lakes just as the sun dips below the horizan and darkness settles in. As we approach Arequipa and the volcanos that surround the city the fog settled down and visability dropped to about 2 meters. We crawled along the road and our 5 hour trip was turning into a marethon adventure. Finally at 10pm we made our way into Arequipa and the terminal terrestre there. Great! After we collected our bags it was time to collect our 10 soles refund. Good luck. We went to the Cruz Del Sur desk where an indignant desk jockey basically told us-Peruvians, Aussies, English, and Americans alike-to piss off. Tempers flared, things were being said that could not be taken back. I am playing the sidelines unable to understand the angry Spanish arguments-but I know I am going to have to fight for my 10 soles.
In the mean time Mo is calling guesthouses and learning that our late arrival means a 20 soles increase in prices for a bed!
Back at the Cruz Del Sur counter the argument rages on. Finally the steward from our bus who promised everyone refunds shows up and talks with the prick behind the desk. He capitulates and asks the first Peruvian lady to provide her receipt for the 10 Soles ride we received from the alternate bus. Of course, no such receipt was issued, the driver just collected 10 Soles from each of us. The Cruz Del Sur jackass refuses to give refunds if we can not provide receipt for our ride. Fucking hell! This really gets them going. At this point I am ready to write off my 10 Soles but Mo is still on the phone so I figure I may as well stick it out and see if this guy gets the beating that is coming to him (several people have become physically threatening). Finally the English girl rips the guy a new one (in Spanish) and demands her money. He gives it to her. I step up with a look to kill in my eye and he gives me 20 soles without a word. G-R-A-C-I-ASs!
Amy had no luck finding a room at a reasonable rate and so we made our way to a hostel listed in the guide book, unannounced at 11pm. Our taxi driver got us there in a hurry and agreed to wait for us to see if we could get a room. Amy buzzed the hostel and after about 5 minutes someone answered. The hostel was a family run affair and the lady who greeted Amy was about 80 years old. She was a sweet old lady and was not to upset about the hour of our arrival. In the end we took a double room with attached bath for 40 soles/night, 20 soles less than anywhere else was offering-at the time. Grand. It was all we could do to brush our teeth and collapse into our beds. It was one of those days when you wonder why the hell you bother at all. Anyway, welcome to Arequipa, goodnight.
The next morning I woke up refreshed and was able to reflect on the comical aspects of the previous days debaucle. All cleaned up and ready to tackle the city, we left our hostal in search of a morning meal, locating a tour company to take us to the Colca Canyon, and exploring the city. Satiated with a breakfast in our belly we set our aim on tour companies. As Arequipa is the gateway to two of the worldīs deepest (argueably) canyons , countless trekking trails and several adventure sport activities-volcano climbing, white water rafting, and even bungy jumping-tour operators are a dime a dozen. Of course not all tour operators were created equally and despite the fact that all tours for Colca are formulated the same it pays to shop around. After interviewing about 5 operators we decided on a 3-day tour and hike option. This would allow us to take in the bus tour and have the added opportunity to hike the canyon. With that settled we finally started to explore the city.
Arequipa is a beautiful city situated on the pampa with several dominating Andean volcanos near by. Weather permitting the volcanos-particularly El Misti at 5800 M-provide a picturesque backdrop to the city. The wonderful tree lined Plaza De Armas is the center of activity in the city and there are spectacular views of the impressive cathedral framed by the snow covered summit of El Misti (unfortunately if you want to know what it looks like you will have to visit another website or buy a postcard because it was never clear enough for us to see El Misti and thus the picture is not in our photo gallery). The city has many classic colonial buildings, several monastaries and convents, churches galore, and in general the architecture is interesting. That all makes exploring the city all the more rewarding. We spent the afternoon wondering about the cloisters of the huge Santa Catalina Convent. The convent-opened to the public in 1970-was once home to 200 nuns and now houses around 30. The cloisters are one of Peruīs most interesting Christian structures with courtyards, living quarters, etc. open to exploration. It was pretty interesting stuff. Other than that we just wondered around the main part of the city near the Plaza (Arequipa is Peruīs second largest city and as such is huge and sprawling). The next day we continued our exploration of the city and Tyler was happy to find a locals pub with 3 22oz beers (cold, or helada in Spanish) for just 10 soles ($3). Just down the street from said pub was a Mexican food restaurant called Tacos y Tequilla that made authentic Mexican food at reasonable prices. You have to love Arequipa.
Early the next day we started out on our 3 day tour to the Colca Canyon. There were 10 of us on the first segment of the tour: a Peruvian couple, 2 Swiss boys, 2 Chilean students, a Canadien woman, a girl from Seattle and MoWenck. Sqeeze in our tour guide Gonzalo and the driver and our minivan was pretty tightly packed. Anyway, it is about a 4 hour drive to the village of Chivay at the Eastern end of the Canyon where we would spend our first night. We climbed up out of the fog of Arequipa through a National Park where we stopped to spot Vicuna, Al pacca, and llamas. The ride was pleasant. The Swiss boys were yacking away with th Chilean girls at the back of the bus. I had to bite my tongue when the one Swiss boy (oblivious to the fact that there were 3 USA citizens on board) started laughing and saying, "Americans!?! They have no culture. They have no taste for food, wine, or music." and he continued to laugh. The rest of the van was pretty damn quiet. When one of the Chilean girls asked him what music he listened to he admitted that he did not care for music and generally liked whatever was on. That was when I realized he was ignorant and ignorance is not a crim. I let it go**. He soon managed to insult the Chilean girls by telling them their chocolate was crap, their country too expensive, etc. and I then realized he was not just ignorant but arrogant also. Ignorance is not a crime. Arrogance is not a crime. The two combined should be a crime. We finally arrived in the pueblo of Chivay in time to find lunch and check into our hostel. After lunch we were off to the hot springs that make Chivay a desireable place to spend a night. An hour or two soaking in the aguas calientes and sucking down some pisco sours made me forget the long bus journey.
For dinner that night we were lassoed into a meal and "free" cultural performance. The meal was over priced. The cultural show consisted of live folk music and dancing and was not entirely without merit. I even got selected to dance with the little Peruvian girl who led me around the floor. I managed not to step on her toes or fall on my arse so that was a good thing. After the dinner and show our tour group made for the local Irish Pub happy hour (of course there is an Irish Pub in Chivay!). We had a really good time drinking and talking, although at one point the girl from Seattle tried o get me into an argument. It was all quite silly but she accused me ob being arrogant. Fair enough but for all the wrong reasons. Basically, I mentioned how I always say that I am from California (when asked) and not the USA. For some reason-jealousy? but why, Washington is a beautiful state without all the crap Cali has-this put her into a frenzy. One of the Chileans asked why I said California and before I could answer she said "because he is like a typical Califonian, arrogant. He expects everyone to know where California is." or something to that effect. Interesting. I thought, "I have really pushed some buttons here, but she has me all wrong." I was about to respond but realized it would only result in an argument. So as a digression I will respond here. I do not say I am from California because I am arrogant or that I think everyone knows where California is-that just happens to be the case. I mean, isnīt it a bit arrogant to think everyone knows where the USA is? Shit, probably 25% of 15 year olds in California donīt know where the USA is on a map, let alone California. No. No. No. I do not say I am American because that is insulting to Canadians, Mexicans, Chileans, etc. I do not say the USA because I am from Kansas like I am from Delaware like I am from the moon. I am not from there! I am from Califi-fuckin-fornia (sorry)! When you ask a Spaniard, "where are you from?" does he respod with "The EU" or "Europe"? Hell no! He is from Spain, just like I am from California, not Washington, wherever the hell that is. But I digress.
So I am arrogant but I am not ignorant. One of the Swiss boys says to the Aussie guy who joined us for a drink, I bet no one here knows who the president of Australia is. Before the Aussie can respond I say that Australia has a Prime Minister and that his name is John Howard. Oooh, ahhh. Tyler you so smart! (not really). Then I proceed to cover my bases with other foreign heads of obsure places like Bolivia (Morales). The Swiss boy says yeah well do you know who is president of Switzerland? I sensed a trap but not before thinking about everything I knew about Switzerland: capital is Bern. Biggest city is Zurich. Food is fondue. Cheese and chocolat. Several national languages including French, German, Italian. Neutral and non-member of EU. Provides protection for the pope. Nice mountains and lakes. Launders money for any criminal from Hitler to Pinochet to Bin Ladin to Kenneth Ley. All this ran through my mind and I realized I was completely ignorant of Switzerland. I told the Swiss boy as much and he learned me that Switzerland has no PM, no president but is governed by a committee of 7 leaders representing each of the parties involved in Swiss politics. You learn something new everyday. Brownie points to the Swiss boy, kudos to Tyler. Enough already.
Early the next morning we continued on our tour out to the Colca Canyon. We made several stops along the way at miradors (viewpoints) that overlook the canyon and the extensive terraces of the valley. We also stopped in a village to check out a church. Finally we arrived at the Cruz Del Condor mirador where on a clear day you have the opportunity to see Peruvian condors in all their aerial majesty. However it was not a clear day. The fog was so thick you could not see 10 meters into the canyon. Crushing! Not for us but for everyone else on our tour because they had to turn around and leave without seeing the condors or the full depth of the canyon. Amy and I were scheduled to hike down the canyon and spend the night at the bottom before climbing back up the next day. We met up with our new guide (Marcel) who promptly promised that we would see condors on the hike down. We said good bye to the rest of our group and joined our new group comprised of us, a Brazilian couple and a French couple.
We hopped a local bus headed towards the village of Cabanaconde but we got off before reaching the village in order to start our decent into the valley. I was relieved to discover that Marcel, our guide, spoke really good English-they had told us for the hike into the canyon it would be a local guide with limited English. Not only did Marcel speak excellent English he also really knew his shit having grown up in one of the village we would eventually walk through down in the canyon. Along the way we would come across Marcelīs siblings and other relatives returning from the week long Virgin of Candalaria celebrations held in the villages below. Indeed before we started the trek Marcel changed from his regular shoes into the local sandals made from used automobile tires. He explained that the locals would give him crap if they saw him in Western shoes. That is how local Marcel was. The walk down the canyon was awesome. After about half an hour the sun broke through and the condors were constantly over our heads. Marcel it seemed could call them to us. It was really cool o see these huge birds soaring above our heads like DC10s. Along the way Marcel explained about the flora and fauna and proved to be a wealth of knowledge. We had lunch in one of the villages and then continued on down the valley towards our accomodation for the night at a place called the Oasis. To get there we had to cross one crazy improvised bridge (the regular bridge had been washed away 3 days earlier) over rushing whitewater. We passed through the village where Marcel was raised by his grandmother-whom we did not visit because we were short for time. The Colca Canyon is impressive and hiking to the villages that cling to the walls of the canyon was a great experience. There is no other way to do it. There are no roads there, the villages do not have electricity (coming in 3 months though). It was peaceful. We made it to the Oasis where I had a swim in the warm water pool before dinner and an early night of sleep. It was a long day that involved a 6 hour hike and the next day was the hard hike out.
We departed the oasis at 0600 the next morning and I blazed a trail up towards the village of Cabanaconde where they were still celebrating the Virgin. The Brazilians, wiped out from the previous day hike, hire taxis (donkeys) to carry them out. I made it to the top in about 2.5 hours and then had to wait for everyone else to catch up, including the donkeys. After a quick breakfast in Cabanaconde we were off, back to Chivay and eventually Arequipa. What a great tour.
Back in Arequipa we still had some unfinished business. We needed to arrange forward transport, we needed to find a guide book for Chile, we wanted to try the local delicacy (guinea pig or cuy) and we wanted to visit another convent called Santa Teresa. We realized that we did not need to make reservations for the bus and instead just determined departure times for buses to Moquegua. The guide book was proving to be a real pain in the arse as we could not find anything for less than $50 US. Ouch! We decided to hold out. We managed to try the guinea pig on the same day we visited the convent. Santa Teresa has only recently been opened to the public and it houses some of the finest Christian Art work in all of Peru. We only had access to one of the cloisters and the church but the art contained in these cloisters was amazing. My favorite was the nativity scene that could be folded up into a giant box and carried all over the land. It was apparently used to teach the story of the life of Christ (as it contained not only the birth but other biblical stories as well) to the natives. The cuy was not so good. Now, Amy will tell you that it tasted like chicken but that is not really accurate. It tasted like chicken like frogs legs taste like chicken. That is, it didnīt taste like chicken at all but it is white meat with a similar texture. No, guinea pig has a strange taste that comes from the oils in the meat. It is very greasy and oily. It is more like a cross between rabbit and chicken (IMHO). The smell is strong and nasty and in general it was not a good culinary experience for Tyler. The only redeeming thing was the presentation on the plate: the cuy comes whole with head attached (little teeth protruding from the mouth) and some organs still inside (you know, liver and kidneys and such). There is not much meat to the little buggers and so you literally tear the thing limb from limb trying to get some meat off the little bones. Appetizing, eh? Anyway, chalk that up to experience.
The next day we were off towards the far South of Peru and the bodegas of Moquegua. But before we left we managed to locate a used copy of a Footprint guide for Chile. Not the greatest but it should suffice. We only planned to spend a day in Moquegua before making for the Chilean frontier and the city of Arica. Unfortunately for us, when we got to Moquegua the bodegas were closed because it was a Sunday and so we just kicked about the dirty litle town a little disapointed about not having more pisco before we left Peru. Oh well. The next morning we caught a share taxi (15 soles after some argument and a change of taxi) to the boarder. The ride to the boarder involves more desert but the scenery is different given the contrast between the green valley of Moqueguas bodegas and the blond-brown sand dunes and volcanic mountains that make up the desert. The only relief is the clear blue sky above and even that is only a small reprieve as the sun glares away baking everything in its radiant waves. Needless to say we made it to the boarder and managed to arrange yet another share taxi into Arica and Chile. That afternoon we bid adieu to Peru.^
NOTES:
* Kareoke on Peruvian buses is not nearly as annoying as kareoke on Vietnamese buses. First of all the volume is modulated. Second, Lionel Richie is not popular. Third, people sing in their native language and are generally vocally mildly talented. No unwilling person is forced to sing.
** The travel tested Tyler realizes there is no point in arguing with ignorance. The poor Swiss boy was probably just spouting nonsense he had probably heard from a friend who knew a person whose brother once went to Mississippi for two weeks. There is no pointing out to a Swiss boy that American food is every type of food in the world: Vietnamese, Chinese, Thai, Middle Eastern, creole even fondue. That Californian wine is some of the finest in the world. That American folk music (jazz, bluegrass, blues) is argueably the greatest folk music in the world. Blah Blah Blah. If you know me, you know I am not the great defender of things Americana. I am hardly patriotic. I am far from Nationalistic. But I am also tired of misconceived notions of the good ole USA.
^ Just thought I would end with a rhyme time!
After flying over the Nazca lines and grabbing a bite to eat we still had about 5 hours to kill until our 16 hour night bus cruise to Cuzco. We narrowed our choices down to 2 options. We could spend the time exploring Nazca and its surroundings on foot. This would involve a 4 hour hike in the mid day sun to some "near by" pre-Incan ruins on the pampa and a visit to some air vents for a vast underwater canal system built by the Incas and still in use today (500 years of service!). Our other option was to find a nice cafe cum bar and drink pisco sours until my liver quit or my bladder burst. Consider the 16 hour bus ride in our future we decided on the latter...
Thus we killed our time in Nazca by killing a few brain cells. A pisco sour is a blended Peruvian concoction (also available in Chile) of pisco, lime juice, sugar, and egg whites. Yummy. Fortefied with a few pisco sours we were ready to grab our gear and make for the bus to Cuzco. We had opted for the cheap seats on a local bus paying half the price of a ticket on the plush Cruz Del Sur touring bus-probably not the wisest decision considering the length of the trip-but we figured what the hell, we have done 16 hour rides in Myanmar, no problem.
The bus was about a half hour behind schedule and I took the time to find a cold Coca Cola, no small challenge. My thirst quenched the bus finally arrived, well technically it pulled into the petrol station down the road, and so, while the driver filled her up we dragged our bags down to the bus and managed to stowe them in the luggage hold. Not an auspicious beginning to the trip. We climbed on board and found our seats and settled in for the long haul. The seats were reasonably comfortable but as we climbed up off the pampa and out of Nazca I could not help but notice the smell. It is that third world locals bus smell-a certain salty sweet and yet very sour scent. Human perspiration makes up the base of the odor. Stale smoke, dried tears, and excrement of undetermined origins are added with a pinch of pure BO to complete the scent. No matter how long the exposure, you never seem to sensitize to the smell, it just becomes nauseating. So, there we were on the bus to Cuzco climbing into the Andes as the sunset on Peru. The views were fantastic as the sky went from blue to yellow to orange to red to purple and finally darkness.
I sat back and did my best to enjoy the ride. As a somewhat seasoned traveler I have learned it is not wise to build up expectations about a destination-it usually results in disappointment-but under these circumstances I could not do anything but think about Cuzco and the Incan ruins we were about to explore. I found my mind was filled with ideas about Incan Civilization from history classes and texts, from fictional stories like Redfield`s The Cellestine Prophecy, from guide books, and from my recent experiences in Peru. I was disoriented and knew I needed a disconnect and so I set about clearing my head of preconceived and/or misconceived ideas of the long lost Incan world. I wanted to have a go with a clean slate. It was a long, mostly restless ride and I was happy when we finally reached the city.
We made a few calls to some hostals before we ventured out of the terminal terestre (bus terminal) into the city. We managed to get a cab to the San Blas district (part of the historic district) where we had a few accomodation options. We took a room at a hostel for 40 Soles a night and promptly took a rest. That afternoon we managed to wonder down to the wonderful Plaza De Armas and we bought our Cuzco City Tourist Pass (good for entry to many of the local Incan ruins and a few of the cities museums-70 Soles). Just wondering the narrow streets of the historic district gives you a sense of what Cuzco must have been like 500 years ago. Many of the modern buildings have been built on the foundations of former Incan structures-quite simply because the Spanish were unable to come up with better foundations that would survive earthquakes. Indeed, many of the Incan ruins that remain standing today are there because the Spanish just plain couldnīt knock them down (of course, they couldnīt build structures that could survive earthquakes either; that is why so many churches have had to been rebuilt). There is one Incan foundation found near San Blas that has a huge stone with 12 angles. It is a marvel of engineering. Walking around the city I just closed my eyes and could imagine the glory of this city. Pizzaro probably shat himself when he came upon all that Incan gold, what a dickhead. Over dinner we discussed our options for exploring the region. We decided that we would not be joining any of the Sacred Valley or Cuzco City tours as we figured that we should be able to do them more thoroughly and cheaper on our own (a soon to be justified decision). Then there was the question of Machu Picchu-should we do the 3-day Inca Trail hike to the ruins or just train and bus it up there on our own? I can not tell you how many people have told us, "you absolutely HAVE to do the Inca Trail hike to Machu Picchu." and I am also aware that it is considered one of the top 5 treks in the world. The trek visits many Incan ruins along the way to MP and follows a 500 year old, at least, road paved with stone by the Incas. The trek also involves 2 passes of over 4000 M above sea level. Neither Amy nor I have ever shyed away from a challenging trek (see Anapurna or take your arse out and climb New Army Pass in the California Sierra/Nevadas). However, there were other things to conseider: the cost of doing the trek was rather expensive-and not just for Peru-at over $200 (without porters). It was the rainy season and we would likely have rain all three days of the hike. We had both recently been very ill and we were both still not 100%. Any one of these factors I would normally dismiss and not allow to prevent me from hiking but when combined I had to admit they were rather prohibitive. Reluctantly MoWenck decided that we would skip the Inca Trail and visit the ruins independently.
After a good nights rest we were determined the next day to visit the Incan ruins in the valley above Cuzco. First we had to make the necessary arrangements for our plans to visit MP. We purchased train tickets to Aguas Calientes-the gateway city to MP, for the following Monday. Train tickets secured we then headed to the bus stop to catch a Pisac bound bus only we planned top get off at Tambo Machay about 8 KM up the valley from Cuzco. The bus cost 2 soles and dropped us off on a dirt path that led to the ruins. Tambo Machay is believed to have been a sacred bathing ground for Incan Royalty and priests from Cuzco. The ruins are typically Incan with fine stone work, running water and of course terraces. Tambo Machay is a great introduction to Incan architecture and worship of water. Just a little way down the valley from Tambo Machay are the ruins of the Incan Royal hunting lodge known as Puca Pucara or the Red Fort. The structure-often compared to small European castles although it is nothing like-is supposed to have been multifunctional another typical trait of Incan architecture. The structure was used as a get away and hunting lodge for Incan Royalty and also provided a defensive possition above Cuzco and guarded the way into the Sacred Valley. After we visited Puca Pucara we continued walking down the valley towards Cuzco stopping off at the more religious Incan ruins of the Temple of the Sun/Moon caves and then Qenko. These ruins have symbolic carvings and were used by the Incan priests for cermonies that may have often involved animal sacrifices. Cool. From Qenko it is a short walk to the impressive ruins of Sacsayhuanman just above the modern day city of Cuzco. By the time we reached these ruins I was wiped out physically and headed for feverish oblivion. The fact that it was starting to rain did not improve matters and so after only about 10 minutes at these ruins we opted to head back to our hostal. I just couldnīt go any more and Amy was concerned that I might be getting sick again-so was I for that matter.
Back at the hostal and hopped up on Tylenol I managed to get some sleep and by later that evening I was already feeling better and the fever was receeding. Illness barely avoided, I was beginning to realize what a good decision we had made in regards to Machu Picchu. Another good nights rest and we found ourselves once again on a local bus for Pisac. This time we were headed all the way to Pisac for its legendary Sunday market and perhaps a stroll up to the Incan citadel ruins above the village. What can I say about the ride to Pisac from Cuzco, it is a trip into the Sacred Valley. The landscape is fantastic with sharpe mountains rising up from fertile valleys. The steep mountains have Incan terraces high up allowing for greater cultivation and control of water flow. Dropping down to the Sacred Valley floor is an awesome experience. Pisac itself is a small but modern village famous for its colorful market (as I have already mentioned). We wondered into the market and explored the many stalls. The market is like most developing world merkets, full of vivrant colors, wonderful smells and sounds, fantastic textiles and artesian crafts-not to mention the typical "local crafts" targeted directly at Western Tourists like the water bottle holders with traditional weaved textiles, jewalery, etc. Mo bought a water color, I bought an Al Pacca sweat shirt to keep warm. After lunch and a coke we headed up the hill out the back of the village towards the ruins of the Incan Citadel.
The ruins at Pisac are quite amazing in their own right and they are on par with anything you might encounter at Machu Picchu-but maybe not as impressive when taken on the whole. The ruins include a vast network of terraces, as one comes to expect with Incan ruins, and a large citadel and fortress stretched over several peaks commanding views of the entire Sacred Valley. Again, the Incans built the citadel as a multipurpose struture combining military, religious, and domestic uses into the complex. I can not express to you the magnitude of the ruins...the terraces taken alone are impressive-we would be hard pressed to build their equal even with modern engineering and mechanical methods. These terraces have survived 500 years in a land where severe earthquakes are not uncommon and yet, this is only one aspect of the impressiveness of these structures. Awesome. It started to rain and so we decended back to Pisac and the valley below to a waiting bus to take us back to Cuzco. It was a great day but we needed to get our shite together for the next two days and our visit to Machu FreakinīPicchu!
Our train from Cuzco to Aguas Calientes left at 0600 the next morning, Monday and we had to be at the station by 0545. Ouch! No matter though, when the train pulled out of the station we were both resting peacefully in our comfortable seats. By the time we climbed out of Cuzco and made it to the village of Ollantayambo in the Sacred Valley we were well rested and ready to enjoy the views from the windows of the train as we followed close to the Inca Trail on our way to Aguas Calientes or, Machu Picchu Pueblo as it is known these days. It was an awesome change of scenery as we followed a raging river into the gorge and jagged mountains that make up the geography of this region of Peru. The mountains are shrouded in cloud forest and during the rainy season clouds hang around the peaks all day. We made it to Aguas Calientes at around 1045 in the morning. Most folks on our train made immediately for the buses up to MP but Mo and I made our way leisurely over to the village where we took a room for the night. Once we had secured accomodation we found a bite to eat and then bought our ticket into the ruins for the next day ($25). We also determined when, where and for how much we could catch the first bus to the ruins (0530 for $6, one-way) the next day. After a brief nap we then made our way to the thermal hot baths of Aguas Calientes (the former name of the village means hot water-duh-and there are natural hot springs there). We spent an hour saoking in the merky hot water before we decided to go back to our hostal and have a shower and then dinner. After dinner we picked up a few snacks to sneak into the ruins-food is prohibited inside the citadel, as are backpacks etc. This is an effort to protect the ruins and while I agree with the effort I have to admit, it is not very well inforced and does limit your ability to thoroughly explore the ruins. It was early to bed that night with an early start planned for the next day.
0530 we were at the bus stop and managed to pick up a palta (avocado) sandwich or 2 for the first bus ride of the day up to the top. The road up to the ruins winds its way up a steep mountainside (see photo gallery) and drops you off at the front door to the ruins, figuratively, not literally-it is a half hour walk up the Inca Trail to the Sun Gate and official Incan entrance to the Citadel. We were told that English guides would be available, they were not. We were told maps would be available, they were not. So, we wondered into the ruins unaccompanied and without a map. It was still early and the ruins were covered with thick gray clouds. We immediately made our way up out onto the Northern Terraces (after first heading towards the Sun Gate but realizing that views from there would be obscured and not worth the effort with the cloud cover). From this vantage point is where most images of MP are taken. None of thos pictures and none of the pictures you will find in our photo gallery do the ruins justice. You have to stand there and watch the ruins appear and disappear in the early morning sun and cloud to really appreciate the vastness and beauty of this location. The tranquillity-even with the idiots who feel it is necessary to scream like an ass when they come across something peaceful and beautiful, yeah, those jerks are allowed in but you canīt bring a submarine sandwich-is brilliant. The location, the structure, the civilization, the feelings I felt are all beyond description. I do know that it was at this time that I started to feel contempt-even hatred-for Pizzaro.
I used to think Pizzaro was some great "conquistador" probably as a result of some stupid 5th grade Judeo/Christian education that praised Pizzaro as a man who brought Christianity to this backward pagan civilization. Yeah, he brought Christianity...and guns and disease and death and genocide. He took gold, and land, and anything of value in exchange for bringing his god to these people. He raped and pillaged. Just like that, all that enginuity, technology, and culture was wiped from the face of the earth. What a dumbass. I mean, the Incans could have tought the Spanish how to build churches that would withstand the winds and quakes of time but no, killem all. Sure they were pagans but they had religion, they had culture, and the Incans certainly did not deserve to be treated as Pizzaro treated them. As my hatred for Pizzaro grows, my respect for Cook blossoms. Oh well, if Pizzaro did not do it, some other Spanish bastard would have. I digress.
After a few hours exploring the ruins the bus loads of people from the daily train started to arrive and things were getting a bit crowded so we made for Huayna Picchu-the mountain behind MP with the Moon Temple and more terraces way up above MP. It is a 45 minute climb from MP to reach the top of HP and when you consider the elevation and the fact that you donīt have anything to eat, this can be rather challenging. Thank goodness for the coca leaf, I donīt think I could have made it without the power of Coca! Gets rid of hunger, provides energy and makes your mouth go numb. Oh, and it is less addictive-in its unrefined state-than the tobacco. With about 40 leaves crammed in my mouth we made the climb up to Mp for even more stunning views of the whole area. Unbelievable. After about a half hour up at the top all the people from down below started to make their way up their and so we decended back down to MP to explore some more before we started the walk back down to Aguas Calientes. I wish we had a map as we got lost in the maze that is the citadel where we managed to stumble across the Temple of the Condor and then the Temple of the Sun-both important in the Incas pagan religion. The Temple of the Sun is really cool. It has two windows. During the solstices the sun shines through one or the other window (depending on the solstice) at first light. Brilliant. Finally we found our way back to the entrance and sadly departed the most awesome ruins we have visited on this tour. It was a good walk down hill from the ruins and only took us about 45 minutes to reach Aguas Calientes where we had lunch before boarding the train back to Cuzco.
We did not get back to Cuzco until about 8pm and so we just had enough time to shower and relax for the night. The next day we visited several of the museums on our tourism ticket. It was a good day. We had decided to go to Puno and Lake Titicaca the next day and instead of going via the bus (faster and cheaper) we opted for the scenic 10 hour train ride. So the next day we woke up early (again) to catch the 0730 train to Puno. The ride was as advertised and we passed through some amazing territory enroute to Puno. We arrived in the late afternoon and our introduction to Puno included the opening ceremonies for the Fiesta De La Virgin De Candalaria. Ouch! We walked out of the Puno train station on to a street crowded with party goers. It was cool but sort of a nightmare to carry all our gear in a large crowd. Finally the band and dancers past and we made our way to the city center in search of accomodation. We found a place-after some shopping around-and settled into our new digs. That night we wondered around the city and took in some of the festivities. The celebration of the vigin takes place over 2 weeks in Puno and is no small party. The next day we arranged forward travel and a tour for the following day out to the islands of Uros and Tranquile on Lake Titicaca. Puno itself is a rather drab little city but we spent the day exploring the town and rather enjoyed ourselves. The tour on the following day out to the floating islands of Uros and then to Tranquile was brilliant. The floating islands of Uros are litterally man made floating islands built by the Uros people. The islands are made from reeds that grow on the lake and the islands usually last about 12 years before they have to be replaced. Really it is a fascinating culture to observe and visit. From Uros we made our way-on the slow boat, 3 hours-out to the island of Tranquile where native Peruvians have lived for thousands of years. It was really cool and the views from Lake Titicaqca are awesome. The whole tour was great. Our final day in Puno was a rain filled day of fiesta where Amy and then I went to the Fiesta dancing at the local futbol stadium. It was a good day but towards the end we had to leave to catch our bus to Arequipa. And that is where I will stop for today, on the road to Arequipa on the "party bus" (all will be revealed in the next blog). Until then, happy valentines day and keep it real in the field.
Our overnight Cruz Del Sur bus from Huaraz rolled into Lima ahead of schedule at about 0545. A groggy MoWenck slowly awoke to the realization that we had arrived at the bus terminal. The bus was almost empty by the time we had gathered our carry-on items and prepared to disembark. Thatīs when the bus started moving backward to alarmed shouts from baggage handlers. I stood in the aisle and watched as one of the drivers started chasing the bus. That is when I noticed no one was driving the bus, we were rolling free. Just as the driver climbed on board we slammed into a steel fence that mercifully prevented us from rolling onto one of Limaīs main highways. LOL! The driver drove us back up to the terminal where he parked and this time, set the brake. We ambled off the bus as the baggage handlers snickered at the driver for being a dumb ass.
We claimed our bags and stumbled upstairs to the waiting area at the Cruz Del Sur terminal trying to determine our next move. Originally we planned to spend a night in Lima upon our return from Huaraz before moving on to the South coast. But when we decided to take a night bus back to Lima we started to entertain thoughts of moving on immediately-there was nothing to keep us in Lima-and now we had reached a cusp. There in the empty waiting room of the bus terminal we started researching forward travel. We ruled Cruz Del Sur out as a carrier because we would have to pay full fare to Arequipa (10 hours) even if we got off in Pisco (about a three hour ride). Amy called another bus company, Ormeno, and determined we had at least two other options: there was an Ormeno bus leaving for Arquipa via Pisco at 0730. The good news was that the bus was leaving from a terminal right down the street, the bad news was that it would be first class-we could pay the fare based on Lima to Pisco (not all the way to Arequipa)-but it was still out of our budget. The alternative was the economico bus for 12 soles ($4) leaving at 0930 from a far away bus terminal. After some discussion we opted for the economico bus but decided we would hang out at the plush Cruz Del Sur terminal until about 0830.
We managed to get a taxi across town to the Ormeno Economico bus terminal and bought our seats on the bus with about 45 minutes left to kill until departure. The bus was almost on schedule and we left Lima at about 0945. Although the bus was full at departure we circled the streets of Lima in search of a few more "standing room only" passengers, and, amazingly, found some suckers. Before we even left the city limits some salesman stood in the aisle and made his pitch for some miracle snake oil. At first I thought he was an employee of the bus company giving a safety spiel (yeah, right!) so I listened carefully. When I figured out he was selling something, I blocked him out and set to reading the guide book about our destination. The ride from Lima to Pisco should take 3 hours and passes through some of the most desolate desert terrain you ever set eyes on or imagined you set eyes on. However, the economico bus stops for anyone who waves it down or stops where ever any passenger wants to get off. Surprisingly, considering the harsh surroundings, there were plenty of people to pick up and plenty of people who wanted to get off. Where the hell did they come from and where the hell were they going? I have no idea. The constant stop and go stretched our journey to about 4.5 hours and we pulled into Pisco just after 2pm. Road-weary we gathered our bags and our wits and made for accomodation.
Pisco is a dusty little port town about 8 KM off the PanAmerican Highway. The city happens to be the gateway to the nearby Paracas National Reserve and the Ballestas Islands, both teeming with wildlife, both major tourist attractions.* The city itself leaves something to be desired and so we made our way to the Plaza De Armas in search of accomodation. After viewing three places we settled into a hostal called the Catamaran for 30 Soles/night ($10). After much needed showers and naps we decided to arrange a tour for the next day to see some of the attractions. We had no difficulty finding a tour operator who was willing to slash their prices to get us on a boat to the islands and then a bus around Paracas. We paid 35 Soles each (down from 60) for a full day tour including all transfers and a guide (English and Spanish!). That night we hung out in the plaza the focus of activity in the city. The children ran wild playing tag etc. The teens hung out in cliques. The parents sat around chatting each other up, eating, drinking, laughing. There was a real sense of community in that plaza and it was beautiful. It is truely a South American experience, evenings in the plaza. Brilliant!
The next day we were up early 0730 for the tour. We hopped a bus to El Balneario where we caught our launch for the islands. Our first stop was about a 45 minute ride out to views of the Paracas Trident (El Candelabro) from the sea. The Trident is a massive candalabra carved into the desert hillside. No one knows the function or who created it (aliens?) but it is quite impressive to see from the Pacific. The location of its creation is perfect, the winds do not effect it and it never rains thus there is no natural erosion of the sight. Pretty freaking awesome. We had some great photos but unfortunately I re-formatted our memory card and deleated all the pictures from this tour. Dóh! From the Trident we made our way to the islands, covered with millions of birds, penguins, and sea lions. The smell of the bird shit as you approach the islands is unmistakebale. We spent about an hour and a half circling the islands viewing the birds and sea lions. I was a bit sceptical about how interesting this part of the tour would be but I have to admit it was quite interesting. So many flipping birds, everywhere! The male sea lions are amusing to watch as they fight for prime realestate on the beaches to sun bathe with their harem. Finally we headed back to land. There we had the opportunity to grab a quick bight to eat before we continued on a bus tour of Paracas. We paid a visit to the informative museum where we learned about the formation of the National Park, the people who have lived there for over 2000 years, and the wildlife. I must say here, that the Paracas is a barren desert with huge sand dunes and not much flora but its location near the rich Pacific Ocean makes it an ideal place for migratory birds. From the museum/information center we went out to the Cathederal Rocks with spectacular views of the Pacific Coast and the desert dunes. Then we made our way to a beach where we were able to relax and go for a swim (although the beach was a bit drab and overcrowded) before we returned to Pisco. All in all it was a swell tour worth every penny. You should have seen the pictures.
The next morning we were planning to move on to the desert oaisis of Ica just an hour bus ride South and East. Amy woke up not feeling well with acheing muscles. Uh oh! But like a trooper she decided she wanted to move on. We packed up our bags and made for the local bus to Ica. We had to wait about half an hour for the bus and in that time Amyīs condition continued to deteriorate. By the time we got on the bus she was feverish. Damn! By the time we got to Ica (about 1.5 hours) Amy was a wreck and needed to lay down. I knew what she was going through and also knew we needed to find a room and quick. The first hostal we looked at was perfect and at the right price but something got lost in translation and we ended up not taking the room. Much to Amyīs chagrin. The next place was right around the corner and was perfect. 35 soles/night, it was a cool, clean room with attached bath and cable teevee. Amy collapsed into the bed. Once I made sure Amy was comfortable (asleep) I went out in search of something to eat. I found a great little restaurant called Galindo that served up phat local dishes. After I ate I went to the bank and then found some sweet bread for Amy to eat. Back at the hostal Amy was aching all over and the fever was at 102. Yikes! Needless to say we spent the night in-only I went out to pick up some food and water. The next morning, despite all the Tylenol Amy was still a hurting unit. I had no choice but to go to the pharmacy, where with my limited Spanish, I managed to communicate the symptoms. I ended up buying some meds to treat the grippe and also some amoxcillan for Amys soar throat (11.5 Soles). Amy started on the meds immediately and by the afternoon was feeling well enough to wonder out for a bite to eat.
Amy continued to improve through the night and the next day we decided to finally have a look around the city. First we made for the excellent Museo Reginal where they have displays of pre-incan textiles, pottery, tools, etc. and an interesting section dedicated to mummies, trepanned skulls, and trophy heads. Fascinating stuff. Out back they had a scale model of the Nazca lines. Walking around zapped Amys energy and we had to return to the hostal for a pit stop and some rest. In the afternoon we headed out to the Oasis of Huacachina. It is a true desert oasis with a natural spring (although nowdays they have to pump water from external sources in addition to the spring) surrounded by huge sand dunes. We ate lunch and then decided to go sand dune surfing. It was a lot of fun and not unlike snowboarding. After the sand dune surfing we settled down near the oasis lake and watched the locals having fun in the water. Because Amy was not feeling well we never took the opportunity to visit any of the local bodegas famous for their brandy (Pisco). Oh well. By the time we were ready to leave Ica my only concern-now that Amy was feeling better-was about what mutations had occured to the virus/bacteria while incubating in Mo...would my immune system still be able to cope? Only time would tell because I was certainly exposed.
We left Ica and made our way further South and further East to a place on the desert pampa called Nazca. The area around Nazca was home to a pre-Incan society known as the Nazca people. The Nazca people were highly advanced with their agricultural practices-they had to be considering they lived in a freaking desert-and had built many aquaducts to deliver precious water from the Andes to the pampa. The people also made advanced pottery etc. Upon arrival in Nazca we were greeted by a kind gentleman who helped us find accomodation and then helped us to arrange some tours of the sights around Nazca. That afternoon, after lunch, we were whisked away out to the cemetary of Chauchilla where the Nazca people burried their dead. It was interesting to see the now open graves (robbers had come to steal the artifcats barried with the dead) with the well preserved mummies. The cemetary was huge and it gave us an idea to the extent of the Nazca civilization that prospered in the region prior to the Incas. After the tour we made arrangements to move on the next day buying bus tickets to Cusco. That eveing we enjoyed a great meal at a little restaurant called Sazon Nazquena just off the plaza de armas on Jiron Bolognesi (3 soles or <$1). After dinner we enjoyed the plaza before calling it a night as we had an early morning tour of the Nazca Lines planned.
The Nazca Lines are one of the great wonders of South America. The lines are a series of animal figures and geometric shapes carved into the bleak stony pampa de San Jose around Nazca. There are many theories as to why the lines were created, everything from alien landing pads to sign posts for shamanic outer body experiences. One thing is for certain, the lines are best viewed from the air and thus we paid about $15 for a 40 minute flight over the pampa. This tour was worth every penny we paid. It is truely amazing to see the shapes and figures from 1000' above and appreciate their detail and beauty. Anyone coming to Peru should definitely take the time to see the lines. After the tour we had a few hours to kill before our evening bus (13 hours) to Cuzco cut out. We decided the best way to kill time is by drinking pisco sours and playing cards. And so I will leave the journey to Cuzco and Machu Picchu for another time.
NOTES:
* Alcoholics may recognize the name, Pisco, as that of a famous Peruvian brandy. True enough, Pisco is brandy and it is Peruvian but the brandy does not come from Pisco it is merely shipped from the port at Pisco.