Back in Cusco

March 9, 2006-Revelations
(Photos:Arrival at Sun Gate,
Aguas Calientes,
Guinea pig ranch)

When we arrived at Machu Picchu at 8:30AM it was hidden behind clouds. As we walked onto the path the curtain of fog rose as if a great performance was about to occur. The star was the Incan sacred village that only had a small permanent population. It wasn’t a living city but a holy city where pilgrims came.

Jesus gave us a breathing lesson before we chose which path we wanted to take: the one to the Sun Gate or the one to the Inca bridge. He reminded us to breathe in through our nose and out through the mouth and to go slowly, slowly. I always have to remember to relax my shoulders too. After the climb, a bit too late, Delores who hikes in Colorado, told us that placing hands on hips opens the chest so the lungs can work more efficiently. Only nine chose the harder climb to the Sun Gate. Judi, David, and I were among them. I decided I didn’t want to exhaust myself to the point of not being able to complete the climb so I went at a snails pace and rested frequently.
The first twenty minutes was straight up uneven steps and a rock-encrusted path. The rocks weren’t placed there but looked as if they fell randomly into their spots. Some carrying backpacks found they were at a disadvantage and were top heavy. The path eventually widened to about five feet. Of course there were no railings of the hand or guard variety. The colors of the granite fascinated me. The most striking were the teal green and those that were the color of lapis lazuli.

This was a 1½-mile climb to the top. Halfway there I decided that the Incas were loco. Buddhists did it right. Their temples are on mountaintops but tour buses can access them. Then the tourists are only faced with climbing a few less than three-hundred steps. Somewhere along the way I went ahead of Judi and David. At that point Judi gave me her camera. I thought they’d eventually turn around and return to the main site. I knew they wouldn’t get past a huge boulder that I had to scramble up. The only way down that boulder was sliding on my tusch.

Every once in a while the path leveled out. These were teasers to make hikers think the worst was over. I met a man coming down and asked him how much farther it was. He said, “Poquito.” I was relieved. That was the first time I thought I was near the top. The second was when I reached a terrace with stone columns. There was a group settled in and I thought I’d arrived. I let out a whoop of joy then realized none of my group was there. A husky dog was settled in for a nap and I felt sorry he had such a heavy coat. Another guide told me that was the halfway point.
That’s when I started to curse the Incas. After another half hour of scrambling I saw Wendy and French from our group. They were leaning on a wall and taking pictures. I called out to them and they waved me up. It was just a rest stop for them.

As I approached what I hoped was the final flight of steps I noticed llama poo on the ground. This is their home but I couldn’t figure out why they’d want to go that high. Then the husky lapped me. As he ran past his tongue wasn’t even hanging out.

Once I got to the sun gate the view was spectacular. It’s from that spot that all the poster shots are taken. The sun gate itself was so-so. It was rocks, pillars, windows, niches. The thrill was in the climb and view. I would climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge again any day compared to this.

David and Judi had stopped at the halfway point. David didn’t go any farther. Judi walked on ten-minutes more. They’d managed to get past that boulder. Now we had to go in reverse. Going down is faster but more dangerous. I paid attention to every placement of every step I made. It was easy to be distracted since there was no more labored breathing. We all even managed to scuttle down the boulder on our feet.

As we passed climbers going up my heart went out to them and I pitied them for they were ignorant of what was ahead. This was so much harder than any stress test I’ve ever taken. I love to climb on rocks and was in hog heaven even though I didn’t like the heavy breathing on the way up. I’m selective about when I want to do heavy breathing.

David had a good point about the entire site. He said that if Disney were running it there’d be a cable car to the top with a refreshment stand waiting at the scenic overlook and maybe a t-shirt kiosk. Even the Israelis have a cable car option at Massada.

The plan was for us to individually take the bus down and meet at a restaurant at noon. As we careened around the switchback curves we saw two little boys waving at us. The driver stopped to pick one up. A few curves later we saw the second boy again. He was running down the steps through the hillside and intercepting us. Each time we’d wave and shout, “Ola” and he would too. This happened several times until the driver let him on. He stood at the front of the bus as we continued down and he let out with a chant-like greeting in Quechua then proceeded down the aisle asking for money. Most people gave him a sole so that he made out with about thirty soles the equivalent of $10. He had a good thing going. He hopped the next bus going up and started over. I don’t think he made that much on each run, but it was a creative way to solicit and it was entertainment for tourists. When we got off the bus in Aguas Calientes I did a little victory dance. Mission accomplished!

The Descent

We’d thought the view from our hotel in Aguas Calientes was of a construction site. But today we saw that people were living in it. It was bare concrete block construction with no windows and building material strewn around. The lotus in the mud was a green and red parrot enjoying the cool morning breeze. I hope he gets along with the rooster who crowed at dawn.

We had a few minutes before lunch and decided to shop. As I turned around to go up two steps to the street I tripped. How ironic would that be if I got hurt after the climb?

As we boarded the train for Cusco after lunch it began to rain. It was perfect timing. Once again our luggage was piled in front of one of the doors. Fortunately it was not the door that kept opening. At one point the train stopped. It seemed ominous but it was only to let a piece of equipment clear the tracks. While we waited a little girl came out of the hills waving and posing for photos.

We met our bus at a village called Ollantaytambo. Before we got on we had a brief walking tour. The whole town is built on Incan foundations and original Incan aqueducts are still in use. As we walked a funeral procession passed. It turned out that Jesus knew the deceased. The mourners were dressed in brightly hued traditional garb and the women had real flowers perched on top of their flat-brimmed hats. A black casket was being carried aloft on the shoulders of six pallbearers and wobbled as they made their way along the stone walkway. With each tip and tilt the lid bounced open a fraction of an inch.

We arrived at the “typical local” stone house with thatched roof, dirt floor, loft, and niches. What was atypical to us although not to the village was that in the niches were the skulls of ancestors, dried meat hung from the beams, three llama fetuses were prominently displayed on the wall (remember they bring good luck to a new home), and two dozen guinea pigs were underfoot. The other dozen pregnant females were cordoned off in a wooden mini-guinea corral.

Sidelights

On the ride to our next stop Jesus decided we needed to know the “truth” about Incas and human sacrifice. He said that in 1991 scientists found a young girl buried high on a mountaintop. Her skull had been bashed in and they declared it to be evidence that she was sacrificed. The Andean view is that pre-Incans left information about human sacrifice in the way of pictures on their ceramics and weavings. The Spanish Chronicles mention Aztec and Mayan human sacrifice. Since human sacrifice was so alien to the Spanish why did they never mention Incan sacrifice? Why did the Incas never draw about it on their ceramic-ware and weave it into their tapestries? He theorizes that the young girl with the hole in her skull could have died of natural causes after a fall. She might have been from an important family and to honor her she was buried high on the mountain.

We pulled off the road to look at a cactus. I was unimpressed until Americo (yes he is back) brought white bugs on the bus from the cactus flowers. He squeezed them and red stuff came out. Jesus told us that the bug innards were used by Andean women for lipstick. As this was going on he called to an eight year old boy to come on board. He held the bus microphone up to the child and asked him questions. The boy had no compunctions about speaking to us. He pointed to the field where his parents were working and said that he goes to school in the morning but then comes home to help in the fields.

One of the advantages of going part way by bus is that we could make all these interesting side-trips. Our next stop was at a bar. There are no signs outside that say “bar.” Instead they use a long pole with a red plastic bag attached to the end as a marker. An old Incan custom I’m sure. We had a contest in the courtyard where we played the game called Frog. There was a stand with a metal frog in it. The goal was to toss a metal disk into the frogs mouth. There were other holes in the stand where the disk could go through and drop in a drawer. Each hole had a different number of points. It was men against women. We whomped them thanks to Judi who was our high scorer. We all retired to the barroom to taste chicha a corn beer. Those who tasted it described it as vile. One woman said she heard that women used to make it and chew the corn thinking their saliva made it tastier. She remarked that it couldn’t have hurt and might have been true.

We’re back at our hotel in Cusco and settling in for the night. We had to run the gauntlet of child-vendors outside our hotel when we went to dinner. They call out their names in hopes that we will remember them. When we say, “No gracias” they call out, “Maybe later.” What are their names? One calls himself Pablo Picasso. The other is Robert de Niro. They know we won’t forget those. We wake up at 5:15AM tomorrow to catch a flight back to Lima. I can hear you all laughing. You know how late we can sleep at home.

Toby