Peru – Where tourism, history, and hippies collide

First up, let me just say that I hear I have a following out there. Where do I hear this from? Ricardo’s blog. Um, hello out there?! Where is the love?! I only ever get posts from Leslie (thanks Leslie!) and Elena and my mom. Katy? Kassia? Anyone? I have all kinds of pictures of Ricardo…

Back to the narrative. We’ve just come back to the ship after four days in the Cusco/Machu Picchu region of Peru. It was phenomenal. I laughed, I cried, I got scalded, I was rank, and I was weirded out.

Let’s begin with the journey. Trip planning was a difficult process for this leg. First off, it’s the national holiday. Which day you ask? Every day my friends. This is not a single Bastile Day, Guy Fox Day, Independence Day kind of thing. We arrived on July 24, the holiday was technically July 28, but who’d know since every single day there was a parade, celebration, or festivity. But because of this national week of celebration, hotels, buses, and trains were booked way in advance. What did this mean for us? It meant that this trip was far from luxe despite it still being fabulous. What else, you may ask? The surrealist level was far, far higher than normal.

We spent our first day in Lima where we allowed Night Guy to completely screw Day Guy. We went on a trip of Colonial Lima, which was lovely and then out to a wonderful dinner with 15 people at a fabulous restaurant in Lima called Huaca Pucllana. We brought a couple students along with us who were lovely and fun and sweet but we didn’t get back to the ship until about 11pm. This would have been fine but we had to wake up at 3:30 am the next morning. Suffice it to say, we were really tired and really not sweet. Also we learned very much the hard way that coca leaf candy and tired 8 year olds do not mix. But more about that to come.

We flew from Lima to Cusco where we met our driver who took us to a town called Ollantaytambo. From there we planned to catch the train to Aguascalientes, the town at the base of the mountains of Machu Picchu. But before we left from there we had some time to kill. We did a little shopping (The Kid began to collect instruments seriously there) and had some lunch. Then we decided to go check out the Inca ruins there in town. And that is where we learned that the Kid really did have vertigo. He’d been wigged out in Chile but we didn’t realize it was a big thing until we’d climbed up the stairs of the ruins in Olla and found that he could not with ease, climb back down. So after coaxing, begging and yelling we got him down, grabbed our stuff and headed to the train. He was tired, weepy, and angry. When we got to the station they were selling coca leaf candy. So we bought some, popped it in our mouths and offered The Kid a piece. MISTAKE! BIG MISTAKE. The candy proceeded to launch him into a series of near hysterical carryings on. Everything upset him, all the way into Aguascalientes. Crying, yelling, anger, remonstrations, and all at the same time, spewed forth from him. Thankfully, by the time we got to the town, he was just limply upset and we vowed to check in, get dinner and a shower and then get to bed.

Little did we know the many flaws in that plan.

We checked into our so-called four star hotel in Aguascalientes. It was clean and that was the best we can say for it. It was damp and dark and loud. But it was just for a couple nights, so no biggie right? We hadn’t showered that day and were looking forward to washing the travel grime from ourselves.

We went on out for dinner on the recommendation of a friend to a restaurant called Indo Feliz. They were, of course booked. So we ended up with some perfectly adequate pizza and The Kid had a cream of mushroom soup. It was overpriced for what it was and it wasn’t great, but it was dinner.

It wasn’t until we got back to the hotel when the fun really started. We piled into the bathroom to get the kid into the shower. It was an odd shower. You basically had to get into it to turn it on, so wetness ensued. It was then we realized that there was no cold water. No biggie right? Better to have hot than cold? Not really because the hot was so hot that it scalded the hell out of us. So I went down to explain we needed cold water. Thus began the saga of the Hotel El Santuario. They guy came up, toggled a switch and left. He came back, opened a tap and then left. He came, checked the tap, and then left. We decided to just put the Kid to bed and worry about his shower the next day. For the next hour and a half the guy came and went and cold water did not appear. Finally we decide to suck it up, go to sleep and worry about it the next morning.

The next morning, Machu Picchu day, we went down for breakfast and were told we could use another room to shower in. We asked to just move to that room and that was greeted with stares. After about 10 minutes we had them convinced, we grabbed our stuff and moved. A shower would be ours! But not until after the ruins.

Of course, it was pouring down rain and we had no ponchos. So on our way to get our tickets, we bought some ponchos for about $1 each which would serve us well for much of the day. We got the bus tickets, got the ruins tickets, and got in line. By then Semester @ Sea had appeared and we were no longer looking at a quiet day of ruins (were we ever? What fools are we?!). It wasn’t until we were ½ way to the ruins that Ricardo realized his glasses were no longer on his face. We scrambled and looked all around. I offered to go back. He said no, we decided to carry on and get the glasses on our way back. I can end this chapter of the story by saying that they have never been recovered.

The ruins were incredible. We got there and powered up to the Gate House and then made our way back down. The stairs were incredible and the site was a complete otherworldly experience. Ricardo has described it quite elegantly on his blog so please refer to him for the appropriate descriptions. And please enjoy the pictures throughout here. We did manage to make it to a rather sheltered, private area of the ruins which left us and the vizcachas (picture here, description in Chile) to sit and muse in peace.

Now to the hippies. Machu Picchu is the Mecca of the hippy trail. There were old hippies cum boomers in their Columbia gear and Gore-Tex. There were young hippies in dreadlocks and cotton drawstring pants. There were Brazilian hippies, German hippies, American hippies, French hippies and Latin hippies. They kissed walls. They lay their faces on the stones and cooed at the “power” of them. They stroked doorways, they sat on steps, they ignored the no food in the park rules, and they ate their fruit and drank their coca tea. They were more or less harmless compared to the huge number of Peruvians and Argentineans who were trying to prove the “Can you hear me now?” campaign of their Movistar and Claro phones by screaming at the tops of their lungs about their being on top of the ruins of Machu Picchu. Some places, phones should not go.

Now to the surreal. It seems that there are llamas who are all over this place. While the tourists struggle with the stairs, these camel cousins hop lightly from place to place. We did see one stupid American who separated a young llama from it’s parent and watched with a certain glee as the Mama Llama came up, spat at her, and then charged her. Get your pictures while you can folks. Don’t try to pose the llamas.

That night we did indeed get a shower and a decent meal. Which was good because the next morning we were headed back to Cusco.

On the train on the way to Cusco we paused at one point. It seems there was someone who needed to board. We’d been offered drinks and The Kid was happily reading his book, when the mystical sound of pan pipes began to crackle over the loudspeaker. I looked up to see a person in traditional dress with a mask on and a stuffed llama in his arms. This sort of thing would have caused the CIA and he FBI to have a conniption fit in the US. But not here. You see here, on the train, this was but a prelude. Prelude to what? An alpaca fashion show my friends! The weird guy danced through the aisles, patting his llama while the train attendants modeled high-end alpaca sweaters to the strains of “Are You Going to San Francisco” sung in French. The Kid looked up and asked what was going on. I explained it was a fashion show to sell sweaters on the train. He shrugged, said “Latin America,” and went back to his book. I think that says it all.

We got to Cusco by around 11:00 am and tried to check into the next hotel. I’d booked it (and paid for it) through Orbitz. But they had no record of us. WTF? So we sat huffing and puffing and scarfing coca tea (it’s 12000 feet elevation in Cusco) while they figured out what to do with us. They finally gave us a room right above reception. It was spacious and clean. Little could we foresee what this one would hold.

With but a few hours in Cusco we hit the town with gusto. We went to the cathedral. OMFG is all I can say. Gold and silver dripped from altars and sanctuaries. Gilt frames surrounded pictures the size of my living room. Awe was the word for it. It left me spellbound and the pinnacle for us was being in the crypt (clean, plastered, no bones) with El Inca Garcilaso’s grave and watching Ricardo be moved to tears by it.

Then we headed for the Qoricancha, a Dominican monastery built on the ruins of an Inca temple. Amazingly cool as well.

But from there we headed to the Center for Indigenous Textiles. And this proved to be the highpoint of the Cusco leg. This is a center run by the indigenous weavers of the area. All textiles are woven on backstrap looms and are made with alpaca, wool, and natural dyes. The Kid was fascinated and spoke with several of the Indians about how they worked, how long it took and their designs. The museum there was amazing and the textiles divine. Many will see them since we splurged on several.

We ran into some friends there and decided, despite it being 7pm (Oh that Night Guy!!) that we’d hit the Pre-Columbian Art museum. This we did and the silver, gold and shell rooms stood out with their delicate and intricate work. At 8pm, The Kid finally tanked and we headed across the square to a restaurant called “Fallen Angel.” This was a tremendously fabulous place with delicious food. It can only be described as a Gay Funhouse. We loved it!

Back to the hotel where the flaw of this stay revealed itself. You see this hotel offers live music in the evenings for their clientele. Where? Right below our fraking room. No sleep for me until the end of the concert. The Kid? Fell asleep like he was dead. The Mom? With earplugs I didn’t sleep till about 11 pm.

Overall, despite the complaining I know is in this, Peru was incredible. The art, the ruins, the Pre-Columbian culture, the textiles, the food, it was absolutely, massively great.

Next stop: Costa Rica!