Machu Picchu

Machu Picchu is one of those places everyone describes to you in such over the top romantic language that you can’t possibly believe that it’s true…. Until you’ve seen it. We went on a guided tour for the first two hours, with the leader of our group “Washington” explaining the discovery and design of the place. Essentially, a Peruvian boy living in the jungles outside of Cusco decided to show the incan grounds to Hiram Bingham, but as it was covered with vines, Bingham set the whole place on fire to clear it, and then paid local people 1 sole for every artifact they looted  (err, um… recovered.) Peru is still fighting it out with Yale to get all of the items back. 

                After some context, we were left to explore on our own, and we hiked up intipunku to beautiful views of MP below. It rained the whole way down, but our spirits were cheery nonetheless. We then saw the Incan bridge and some llamas (don’t tell the sloths, but llamas are coming in at a close second) before heading back down the treacherously winding road to the small town of Aguas Calientes, drifting on our day’s high all the way back to Cusco.

I should start by describing the distinct type of traveling my roommate Jacki and I are embarking on.  Cheap, unplanned, and flexible. Thus, when researching Machu Picchu late after a night of exploring Lima, we realized that the Peruvian rules have changed quite a bit since the last time my trusty guide book was published, and now entrance fees must be reserved weeks if not months ahead of time.   In the midst of searching the web for all of the possible permutations for how to get there cheaply, we had missed this rather large detail.  We had considered the taxi, bus, collective, cable car over a river, four hour walk combination to get to Machu Picchu, but not the actual entrance. Our flight to Cuzso has already been reserved for the next morning however, and we are planning for Machu Picchu the day after. (*were planning) Trying to maintain a calm façade while dear Jacki teeters on the edge of freaking out, we decide to do what we do best … figure it out tomorrow  =)  . 

         We ended up booking a combination package type deal with a  travel agency for much cheaper than we could have been able to do ourselves, and much less headache.  When we arrived in aguas calientes, in complete darkness, none of the hastily crafted signboards held by the many guides, hotels, and tour operators bore our name.  Undaunted, we hiked up and up until we found our hostel, and with hopes of early sleep, awaited the arrival of our guide, whom our receptionist assured us would soon come.  Four hours and many confused, doubting, and finally angry phonecalls to the elusive Vincente later, it became clear that two different guides had each thought the other one had been assigned to us, and so as it turned out none of them was looking for us. When that was finally straightened our and our guide sitting with us in the hostel, we expressed with naïve excitement our supreme desire to wake up at 4am and see the sunrise over the Incan city. With a rueful sigh he told us, “chicas… it’s the rainy season.  There is no sunrise.”

        After an idyllic train ride back to the midway point, we looked frantically for a bus we were told would be waiting for us, despite our lack of tickets. After asking around, we finally found “Danys bus” and took our seats, although it seemed odd there were only three other people on the bus.  Then came a hoard, lead by one of those hastily scrawled list holders, who all piled on to our bus. After checking his list, he told us we weren’t on it, and we’d have to get off. This man was ruining my perfect day, and Im afraid the tired cranky Rebecca wasn’t about to get kicked off and the end our wonderful day.  I told him his list was wrong, we were supposed to be on the bus and we were staying. Please?  That seemed to do the trick, and safe passage assured, we returned to magical bliss of our day at Machu Picchu.