My last post left off right as we were about to head out to the famous Incan complex of Machu Picchu, but before I headed out I had to try the infamous Peruvian delicacy known as Cuy. In the states we call them guinea pigs, and here they´ve been on the dinner table for millenia. While many tourists fork out a hefty penny to have a nice guinea pig fillet from a proper restaurant, I decided to try the endemic version at the local market. While I had been mentally prepared for the sight of the little creature on my plate, I have to say that the topping of uncooked seawead and fish eggs caught me a little by surprise. At this point I had already struck up a convesation with some locals at the same table, so to save face I had to force down a bit of everything. I was pleasantly surprised by the taste of the cuy, and at the risk of breaking the cliché, I would relate the flavor much more to that of pork than of chicken.
With my belly full of giant hamster meat Viviana and I hopped on the 8pm bus to sart our alternative approach to Macchu Piccu. As I mentioned before, the typical route is far too expensive for our stretched out travel budget, so our new plan was to take the overnight bus from Cusco to Santa Maria, arriving at 2AM. From there we hop in a collectivo (shared van) to the small town of Santa Theresa, arriving at 3AM. At this point we lay out the sleeping mats in the middle of the main plaza and take a nap until 5AM, when we catch a ride with some workers out to the hydroelectric plant. From the hydroelectric plant we walk along railroad tracks for 3 hours until we reach the town of Aguas Calientes, the typical starting point for the final climb to Machu Picchu. Despite our haphazardly planning and a few horrifying cliff-side bus rides, our plan worked flawlessly and only set us back about $12 each. However, arriving at Aguas Calientes was only part of the battle, and the next hurdle would be getting to the gate early enough to be able to climb Wayna Picchu, the photogenic mountain in the background of every Machu Picchu photo worth bragging about. The lucratively popular ruins receive an average of 2500 people per day and only the first 400 are allowed to climb Wayna Piccu. In order to make it in this group without staying at the $600/night hotel or taking an equally overpriced tour, you have to line up at the main gate at 5AM and then hike up 1600 odd-shaped stone steps to an office where you get your ticket stamped. Of course this was our plan, and when we arrived at the gate we were surprised to see that not only were there about 40 other people waiting, but a number of them were decked out in shiny new jogging shoes and spandex pants, ready to race to the top. At 4:50 the gate opened and we all started the ascent. After a couple flights I realized I was in the lead, and the people behind me were starting to pant heavily. Then suddenly I heard Viviana yell out from a half flight of stairs below ´Go Alex Go!´ At this point my competitive spirit kicked in and I decided to try and go for the gold. Employing my disgruntled teenager hiking style (jacket dangling from wrists, arms flopping around randomly) I quickly beat everyone to the top, only to find another 20 people from the hotel already waiting. Viviana came up soon after with a respectable 6th place and after another 30 minutes in line we started into the much anticipated Incan metropolis. At this point it was difficult to believe that anything could live up to the hype that precedes Machu Picchu, but as soon as the city unfolded before us we were completely astonished. The complexity of the buildings and sheer area it consumes is impressive, but what really sets it apart is the location. The ancient university, temples, houses, terraces, and other stone structures are just perfectly perched on the top of a mountain that drops steeply away on all sides. Upon our arrival there was a mist floating through the area that added a touch of mysticism to the experience. Soon after walking through the main gate we flashed our stamps and started climbing Wayna Picchu. An hour more of steep stone steps and we found ourselves on the top of the mountain, which is also covered in ruins and feels like a fortress in the sky, looking down onto the main ruins below. We passed the day exploring the various temples, astronomical observatories, and ceremonial fountains before finally returning to the real world below in Aguas Calientes. A short dip in the local hotsprings followed by a good nights sleep prepared us for the return journey along the railroad tracks, back to Cuzco and the Sacred Valley.
Macchu Piccu is by far the most famous leftover city in Peru, but there is a plethora of other astonishing ruins all around Cuzco known as the Sacred Valley. Unfortunately to see these ruins you also have to pay a hefty sum of around $50 for
a tourist pass. Thanks to a tip from our Spanish traveling companions, we found a way to drop this price in half, and hopefully save a bundle more on other sights down the road. All we had to do was make a few ´modified´ academic transcripts to show that we are still students, slap on Michael Jackson´s signature in place of the school registrar, and apply for a local ID card at the Cuzco office. With the new golden ID card in hand we swept through the valley, stopping at the ancient city of Ollantaytambo, the massive walls of Saqsaywaman, the intricate caverns of Q´enqo, and the royal tombs of Pisaq. Soon our heads were packed full of Incan history, and we felt ready to slip over toward our next destination on the shores of Lake Titicaca.
Before heading into Bolivia, we stopped briefly at the town of Puno to see the floating islands of the Uros people. This tribe has lived for centuries on the
waters of Lake Titicaca, constructing their own islands out of the totora reed, a fast growing plant found in abundance near the lake shores. In addition to the land istself, they also build their boats, houses, furniture, and just about everything else out of this reed. Despite the immense impact that tourism has had on their culture, it was incredible to see such a perfect use of renewable, locally available resources. A short visit to the lake got my mind moving in new directions, and on our way to Bolivia I started formulating plans for a little free-style island hopping.
Upon arriving in Copacabana I quickly set out researching a way to row out to the nearby Isla del Sol. I spoke with a local about renting a canoe, but he quickly convinced me that the proper way to get around on the ´highest navegable lake in the world´ was with a sail. He showed me his boat, which was tiny and had a mast and other crucial elements made out of logs and used horseshoes. Although I was a bit nervous about the quality of the craft, and the fact that I had no previous sailing experience, Bolivians can be very convincing, and after a half hour sailing lesson we were hashing out the details of the ship rental. That night we stocked up on provisions and the next day Viviana and I headed out for our three day sailing trip. We started off at 6AM, and the first hour the wind was at our backs and we were cruising along. Another hour later and we were sitting in one spot in the middle of the lake, catching a sunburn and praying for wind. I tried the oars for a bit to help us along, but this quickly filled my palms with tons of little splinters as only a couple inches of each handmade oar had been sanded down. Eventually the wind did pick up, but this time it came right at our faces. Using the zig-zag pattern we slowly made our way toward the island, arriving at 5PM, only 7 hours later than the locals had promised us. The next day we lowered our aim and decided to sail around to the other side of the island, instead of all the way to the north. In just a few hours fighting the wind we arrived. With the help of 5 locals we pulled the boat on shore and hauled our gear up to a small hostal with a humongous view. We cooked our rice and had a couple beers at sunset, then passed out to rest for another long day returning to the mainland. The next morning we recruited a few locals and one other tourist to help push the boat back in. The tourist turned out to be from Washington state, and liked fishing, so we offered him a ride back to Copacabana. This time we made it back in a swift 4 hours. The sailboat trip was truly an adventure, and when we got back all we wanted to do was relax and play it safe.
So now we are here in La Paz, the dense Bolivian capital built in a steep valley. Our arrival was hectic, but now we are starting to unwind, passing the day eating delicious local salteñas and touring the many plazas. My hands have begun the healing process and today I may even search out a barber. Of course no matter what temporary improvements are made the trip goes on, and the real rest won´t come until sometime next spring when we finally get back to our native land.
