4/17/08 9:15am:I forgot to write in the blog last night before going to sleep but it’s probably better since otherwise, I would’ve had about two hours of sleep. In this case I got about five hours.
To recap yesterday (the 16th), I slept in until around 9am or so, had breakfast with Lucia and then called Dad at work. Lucia and I then went for a walk to the Municipilidad to buy tickets for the Mirabus and to visit the Indian Market. I’m waiting till after the trail to buy most of my gifts since I want to make sure I space out expenses. That being said, I did buy a nice present yesterday that I’m pretty excited about giving. :)
We got back from the Indian Market in time for Lucia to make it to her reunion. Camila came back around 2:30 and we had lunch (causa). We then ran some errands at Vivanda (the local grocery store – I had to buy storage bags, candy and travel Kleenex for the trip) and then we went for postre at Larcomar. I went back to the apartment where I packed my backpack for the first time (that day, not ever). Tia Rocio came over around 5:15 and then Tio Lucho picked us up from the apartment to go to Larcomar for more postre. Called the Marriott ladies while there to see if they wanted to come along for lonche. My phone then ran out of minutes in the middle of the call so I called them from Lucho’s phone. They ended up being tired and dirty from their day spent in the center of Lima so they stayed to pack in the hotel. I had a triple for lonche (my favorite sandwich in the world – palta, tomate, and huevo con mayonesa) and Inca Kola. Rico.
At lonche, we got to talking about the terremoto. Everyone has their own story of where they were during the quake. Tio Lucho and family were moving into their new house that day so they were with around 30 movers. Rocio was at work and if not for the fact that the elevator was taking too long, would have been in an elevator at the time the quake hit. They say the ground moved like jello and the sky lit up.
After lonche, I got dropped off at the apartment again. Five minutes later, the girls came over to pay my aunt the money for the Mirabus. (50 soles/person). We sat around talking for a bit but a ½ hour later, we said goodbye and Lucia and I climbed into her car so she could drop me off at Kuno’s office. From there, he and I went to the airport to pick up Diana. She had just gotten out as we were walking in and was standing in line to use the phone. After a few unsuccessful attempts at making calls, the three of us climbed into the car. One of the roads through San Miguel was blocked off so we had to take a detour of sorts. Found our way back to the Costa Verde, made a stop at the gas station and pharmacy and then unloaded the car at the apartment. Ate some food. Took our soroche pills. Finished packing. Went to bed around 12:30am. Kuno stayed up a couple more hours to do work.
He woke us up at 5:40am this morning. Twenty minutes later, the van, already full of the Marriott crew, was outside ready to pick us up. We got to the airport a half hour later. I had a pocket knife in my backpack, so I had to check the bags in. Went through securit
y. Got pulled aside for carrying a small pair of scissors in my backpack. Dammit. Forgot to transfer those over. Bye bye scissors.
When we got to the gate, Camilo was already there waiting for us. Finally, the seven of us in one place!
We’re on the plane to Cusco right now and they’ve just made the announcement that we’re about to land. Diana accidentally booked the 9am flight instead of the 8:55am flight so she’s a few minutes behind us. We’ve just broken through the clouds.
Going to go to the hotel, (they’re picking us up from the airport) and from there, to sleep!
3pm: I’m currently seated in a fluffy cushion in the balcony in front of my room. The balcony opens up into a courtyard. When we arrived at the hotel we were promptly given mate de coca, which is supposed to help in adjusting to the altitude. Diana and I are sharing a double, ie. a loft with a twin bed and a full bed on the lower level. Camilo and Kuno are two doors down in 212. Jen, Caitlin and Janet are sharing the triple downstairs. The rooms at the Hostal Amaru are clean, but basic. Perfect for what we need.
11pm:We’re at the end of our first day in Cusco. I’m feeling a little short of breath but for the most part, ok, just really tired. I just took another soroche pill so that should support the adjustment even more. The first day in Cusco was fine. After getting in from the airport, we spent the morning napping and then woke up around 1:30pm to go out for lunch up the street at a place called Pacha Papa. I ordered papa a la huancaina and anticuchos de alpaca (which was actually quite tasty). We then spent a couple of hours walking around the Plaza de Armas. Sat down at a café around 5pm for more mate de coca.
At 6pm, Nicolas from Tanit Trails came to the Hostal with our guide, Juan Carlos, to brief us on the trail. It was great to get the day to day details and know what to expect. We got a lot of questions out and I think now, each one of us, despite our preparation, has something else we need to buy before Saturday’s 4am pick-up.
After the briefing, we went out to find some dinner. We meant to go to Chicholina, but when we got there we found that everything was reserved. The waiter told us that they could find us a spot though. The “spot” ended up being a four block walk to their sister restaurant “Baco”. The waitress that served our table was from New Mexico. Que barbaridad. I promised myself I’d try cuy (guinea pig) while in Cusco so I ended up ordering a cuy-stuffed calzone. I can now say that cuy tastes like turkey and stuffing.
The night ended with Janet succumbing to altitude sickness and the group walking back to the hotel to pass out.
I’m excited about the trail but part of me is already excited about being able to say I finished. And to go back to Lima where there is more oxygen and a climate suited for flip flops.
4/18/08
Kuno, having been to Cusco a few times already, opted out of the morning’s tourist activities. Janet, also not feeling particularly interested in seeing the sites given her previous night, also decided to stay behind at the hotel and relax. The rest of the group hopped into a cab to go to Sacsayhuaman, one of the local ruins. The taxi driver charged us 8 soles (about 3 bucks). The entrance fee ended up being a little more expensive than we’d expected, so we opted for the partial entrance fee that granted access to four of the ruins, including the only one we were interested in seeing. A woman approached us after we bought our tickets and asked us if we wanted a tour of the site. We asked her how much she’d charge us for a tour – 20 soles (7 bucks).
As we walked down the dirt path, our guide gave us an introduction to the site. Sacsayhuaman is a walled complex that’s actually in the shape of a puma head. Apparently, at one point in time, there was a battle near or on the site that resulted in thousands of dead bodies…as a result, the site’s name to date means “satisfied falcon”, going off of the theory that the falcon feasted on the dead bodies after the battle.
We spent about an hour walking around, taking pictures of the stone and the nearby llamas. At the end of the tour, we paid our guide, who spoke English impressively well, and then walked down the path that leads back to the Plaza. On the way down, we stopped at the local stands. I bought chifles (plantain chips) and a pair of mittens. The locals, hearing me speak the language, asked me where I had learned to speak Spanish so well to which I responded “mis papas son peruanos.”
“Si?” One of the locals sitting on the wall above me then told me I speak with a Venezuelan accent. Hmm.
We made our way back to the San Blas area near the Plaza and to the hotel where we ran into Kuno and Janet in the lobby, on their way out to go find a place to read. We told them to wait five minutes, went back to our rooms, and then met up in the lobby again to find a place for lunch. We walked down the block to Jack’s Café, which had been recommended by Nicolas from Tanit, but seeing the line, ended up going back a few doors to a German/Peruvian restaurant. Had some fantastic seco de cordero and for dessert some kind of mint and cucumber milkshake that tasted Mediterranean.
We went down the plaza and ran some errands in the afternoon – bought ponchos, coca leaves, face wipes, plastic bags, etc – and then went back to the hotel to pack our backpacks and porter duffels. After packing, I went downstairs to use the internet (15 minutes for 1 sol). Wrote a few “I’m going to be hiking in the Andes for four days starting tomorrow morning, miss you!” emails and went back upstairs to my room.
It’s 10pm. The bus will be here at 4am. I’m more anxious than tired. Why did I think using a hole in the ground and not showering for four days would be fun again?
4/20/08
The Inca Trail: Days 1&2
It’s the morning of the second day. Yesterday we were picke
d up at 4am from our hotel. After a 2.5 hour bus ride, we reached Km 82, the beginning of the trail. First order of business upon de-boarding - bathroom. I spotted a hut across the clearing. A boy was standing in front of the hut with a roll of toilet paper. I paid him a sol and he gave me a few sheets. I walked in the “ladies room”. Toilet with no seat. Fabulous and clean! After the bathrooms I’ve experienced the past 24 hours, looking back on that toilet, I had it pretty damn good.
Before starting the trek, the porters, 19 total including the chef, put together an amazing breakfast, tablecloth and silverware included. We ate fruit salad with quinoa cereal, toast and mate de coca. 
During the meal, the different parties introduced themselves. Along with our group of 7, there were two girls from Denmark and a guy and two girls from the Bay area in California. After breakfast, people made last minute adjustments to their porter vs. non-porter bags and bought coca leaves and hiking poles. They gave us each a snack bag with candies, a piece of fruit and a cereal bar. We were told to hold on to the snack bag as it would be filled up every day. Last bathroom trip and we were off. Walked five minutes down the road and arrived at a checkpoint, the only one where each trekker would have to show their
passports. I got a stamp in mine (page 13) for future affirmation that I’d at least started the Inca Trail.
Our guide, Edgar, led the way with Juan Carlos holding up the rear. About 30 minutes down the trail, I realized that I already had to pee (note to self – don’t have tea while trekking). I looked at Juan Carlos and asked him if there was a preferable spot where I could commune with nature. He pointed to a path on the side of the trail. He and Janet took a break while I stamped my way
through grass and weeds. Mission successful, I came back with a smile on my face and with that, was the first member of the group to make a little, you know, side trip.
We walked for another couple of hours and then saw the path ahead climbing up the side of the mountain. Incredible, but to know that you’re going to be walking up that is, needless to say, daunting.
We all eventually made it to the top and the reward was a breathtaking view of the valley below us. It wasn’t long before we noticed our two guides hanging back with the Denmark ladies. Back at breakfast, one had mentioned that during their travels (they had already visited a number of South American places prior to traveling to Cusco), she had fallen sick with some sort of parasite. Now, at the top of our first pass, it looked like the guides were making a judgment call.
Juan Carlos came over to the rest of the group a few minutes later and said he would be turning back to bring her to the start of the trail where they could get her some medical care. Her friend would continue on and Edgar alone would be in charge of the group, now 11 of us, from hereon out.
They left and we continued on, down the hill slightly off to the right until we came upon a cliff and our first Inca site. We stood there for a while Edgar shared some stories about its history. He then pulled us into a circle, pulled out a bag of coca leaves and another bag with something sticky. Those with their own coca leaves followed suit. Edgar went on to explain some basic history about the use of coca leaves and then proceeded to show us how to use them. We each pulled three leaves out of our bags, grabbed a piece of the catalyst (about the size of a grain of rice), folded the leaves over and stuck it in our cheeks. Coca leaves carry medicinal value – in our case, they would serve as support for the altitude sickness that would inevitably ail us all. Apparently, one can live on coca leaves alone for three days without food or water.
We again continued on, past little pueblitos where women were making chicha beer on the side of the trail for the passing porters. We stopped for tuna (not the fish - a small fruit from a cactus). Fresh and cold, it was a delicious snack while walking. The group laughed when Edgar mentioned that it’s an aphrodisiac. The group of 11 is made up of eight women and three men.
Around 1pm or so, we finally reached our lunch place in Huallaybamba. Our meal consisted of chicken sautéed in onions and tomato with rice. Our chef on the trail, Ilario, is amazing. After lunch, we took a twenty minute nap on the mats they had set out for us, refilled our water packs and set out on the trail again.
Edgar had warned us that the afternoon would be challenging – all uphill for a long stretch (ie. 3 to 4 hours). As much as I wished I had worked out more to prepare for this trip, there would have been nothing to do about the altitude. After four hours of trekking uphill and having to stop for breath every 30 seconds, I felt like death, crawled into my tent and lied there breathing for an hour and a half. I was nauseous and exhausted. Camilo was in a similar state. I got some coca tea down and tried eating a little soup in the dinner tent but ultimately felt even worse smelling food so went back to my sleeping tent. I woke up an hour later, asked Diana for a few crackers, just enough to take a soroche pill, and fell asleep again.
The next morning, around 6am, Edgar and another porter came around with tea. From there, we had an our to get our bags together, clear out the sleeping tents and make our way to the meal tent for breakfast. Judging by the lack of hustle from the group, I think everyone was feeling pretty battered. As people got their packs together, they dropped them off on the blue tarp the porters had set up to keep bags dry. Breakfast was crepes with manjar blanco and porridge. Noticing that I stayed away from the porridge, Edgar asked me if I was alright. I told him that I felt fine but couldn’t eat things with milk because I was lactose intolerant. He ended up yelling to one of the porters to bring me another crepe made without milk (totally unnecessary but nice nonetheless). Since then I’ve been given meals sin lactosa. After breakfast, we had 10 minutes to go to the bathrooms before meeting up again. Beforing departing the campsite the group took 15 minutes to formally introduce the porters. We were then told to pick up a stone and stick it in our pocket. And with that, we were off.
Things that make this trip challenging:
- They feed you an 8,000 calorie diet, you eat like there's no tomorrow and then they want you to walk uphill for four hours at an elevation of 12,000+ feet.
- The altitude.
- Doing business in a ceramic hole - it is an art that requires practice.
With some more food in my stomach, I felt better starting out. After about 5 minutes, the blisters on my feet started aching. I had slapped some moleskin on them that morning but nevertheless, they were stinging. I mooched an Excedrin off of Caitlin and pushed through it.
We were on our way up to our highest point of the trail – an elevation of approximately 13,800 ft. Despite the big breakfast and my aching feet, I made it to the top and with a satisfied laugh, surveyed the views around me. Amazing. Totally, utterly incredible. The team took a group photo at the top. Tradition has it that on the day you reach the highest point, you're supposed to carry a stone and set it down at the top. So before leaving to climb down 2000 ft to our lunch spot, we took out the stones we'd grabbed at the bottom and set each stone atop the already existing pebble mountains. 
Climbing downhill is deceivingly easier. It’s not as physically challenging so it’s easy to forget to take water and breaks. I took a much faster pace going down the mountain and unfortunately for me, altitude sickness struck again, worse than last night. I had some tea and a bit of soup and 15 minutes later, it came back up. Miserable, nauseous and hungry all at the same time, I turned around at the sound of my name. Edgar came over, handed me a grabol (medicine for nausea) and kept me company for a few minutes while I drank some water and my new favorite pastilla (pill).
Our chef ended up carrying my pack from lunch to the second campsite so I could lighten my load and make it up and down the second and last pass of the day without extra weight. The first half hour was challenging, but as the grabol kicked in, I was able to scarf down half a cereal bar. When I reached the second pass, I felt great again and was fine the rest of the day. “Boot and rally!” Hooray.
On the way down from that pass, I made sure to take more breaks and drink more water. Two hours down, we reached another Incan site. To get in, we had to climb up a set of narrow stairs. Edgar took us around the site, one of the larger on the trek so far, pointing out the aqueducts and architectural intelligence of the Quechau people. Unfortunately for us, fog had set in, so there wasn’t much to see around us, aside from the buildings. Kuno, my speedy cousin, had predictably arrived hours earlier than everyone else in the group and as a result, had managed to catch the view from the ruins before the fog took over. 
After our tour, we climbed back down and walked a half hour to our second campsite. Claimed tents. Had a delicious dinner of ensebollado and rice with chicken soup and chocolate cake for dessert.
During dinner we asked Edgar to tell us some Quechua folklore which resulted in the following stories:
- "A German woman died at this campsite. Her husband found out she was cheating on him and hired someone to kill her. Her dead body was found near the bathroom."
- “There is a story of an old woman who walks around to people’s homes, asking for a place to sleep. People let her in and then while they’re sleeping, she feeds off of them. She has a goat leg. So if someone asks to come into your tent, make sure she doesn’t have a goat leg. We call her the “chupa cabra” (ie. goat sucker)
- “There is also a killer that eats people fat.”
Lovely.
Since the food was so amazing, we asked the chef, Ilario, to come hang out in the dinner tent. When Edgar told him we were sharing stories, Ilario jumped in with some of his own. He doesn’t speak English, so Camilo and I were asked to perform the honor of translating to the rest of the group. Ilario’s stories were in fact extremely crude jokes so our translations, though amusing, were mildly horrifying to the receiving ears. I think we all learned some anatomical vocabulary en espanol that night.
4/21/08
Inca Trail: Day 3
Got our wake-up tea at 6am. Hot water in a bucket with soap to wash our face and hands. We packed up everything and cleaned out the tents for break down. Had eggs with cheese for breakfast with a corn pancake. The chef made me hot chocolate without milk, which was surprisingly tasty.
The hike on the third day is the shortest, as we only walk a few hours in the morning before we reach our third and final campsite – Winya Wayna – in the early afternoon. It was drizzling when we got up, so the group donned their ponchos, making sure to use the back as 
a cover for packs. Our 11-person hunchback rainbow then departed, covering the hardest piece of the day’s trek in the first hour or so. It started pouring halfway through, which, for me anyway, was more entertaining than annoying.
We got to the first pass quickly. It was foggy so we couldn’t see anything, but apparently at the lookout point, you can see Aguas Calientes (the town at the base of Machu Picchu) and further up, the very top of Machu Picchu.
As we started our way down, it started clearing up a bit. The climate was getting warmer and the vegetation as a result, was getting greener and more jungle-ish. We bundled up our ponchos. The group members, always going at various paces, were told to wait at the next Incan site. I was feeling pretty good that day, so I stayed towards the head and ended up arriving at the site first. Looked for a discrete spot to commune with nature before the rest of the group got down. Climbed over a couple of large rocks and found a nice dirt cliff among the trees. Made my way back to the trail and waited a couple more minutes before Camilo and Jen arrived. Jen climbed up over the rocks as I had while Camilo and I stayed behind. The rest of the group trickled in. When yet another female member decided she also wanted to commune with nature, I suggested the spot over the rocks. Edgar noticed her climbing, ran over and practically pulled her down, saying that poisonous snakes live in those trees and that it was better to go in another spot. Upon hearing that, I was slightly mortified as that sort of interaction with wildlife hadn’t been planned for. That would’ve been uncomfortable.
Another hour later, it was hot and humid, so we shed our top layer of pullovers. After another hour, we made it down to the campsite, the place where the majority of tour operator groups camp prior to hiking the last stretch to Machu Picchu. We arrived early enough to avoid navigating through the chaos, but at the site of a bar and dance floor, were able to get a pretty good image of what the place would turn into that night.
For lunch, Ilario made a disgusting amount of food – onion rings, lomo saltado, two different types of arroz, papas fritas, chicken. Turns out the last day and a half, they cook all the food that’s left over so they don’t have to carry it around anymore…logical. Disappointingly, the group ate a quarter of what was made and even then, were practically rolling ourselves out to our tents.
Though chaotic, one of the beautiful features of the Winya Wayna campsite is th
e existence of showers. So after lunch, I went and took my first shower in three days. You don’t realize how gross you smell/look until you watch days’ worth of dirt, sunscreen and repellant swirl down a drain and know what it’s like to truly be clean again.
While I was showering, it started pouring again. Our campsite was located a ways down the slope from the shower/toilet area, so there was no running down the mountain for cover. Instead, Caitlin and I had to waddle our way down the stream that was the path to our tents. I managed to make it down without slipping and getting muddy, which would’ve been sad after that whole three soles worth of bathing.
I took a nap. At 4pm, heard a rap on my tent. Janet was gathering people together to go take a walk to Winya Wayna – the actual Incan ruin, about a 10 minute walk away. It was still raining, so I slung on my poncho again and maneuvered out of my tent, trying not to let any rain or bugs in. Some group members had opted to stay dry, so only a few of us made the short trek over the Winya Wayna. While Edgar took us around, we took photos. The rain let up and a rainbow appeared, climbing up behind the mountains and the waterfall.
After Winya Wayna, we came back to the camp site to eat our last dinner as a group. After a huge meal (we barely finished digesting lunch…no one was hungry) of chicharron de pollo, papas fritas, ensalada, wheat soup, beet salad, lemon meringue pie, wine and chicha beer, we had the unpleasant group project of figuring out how much to tip the porters. On top of it all, not everyone in the group was feeling great. Jen, having felt fine the whole beginning of the trek, had finally succumbed to travelers’ illness (not soroche). Agreeing on an amount of money between 11 people is no small task and unfortunately, there were varying opinions on what people wanted to contribute. We ultimately decided to tip the chef a bit more since he had spent hours cooking for us. All the porters came into the tent and Camilo said a few words in Spanish. At the end of the whole process, even after knowing that they’re paid for their services by the tour operator, I still felt like we weren’t giving them enough of a tip.
We left the dinner tent after saying our formal goodbyes to the porters. Those that donned headlamps and ventured up the hill to the bathrooms got to witness Winya Wayna in full fiesta mode. The restaurant which closes at 10pm was hopping at 8:30.
Unlike the other two nights where it was freezing at night, I was able to sleep in nothing but long johns and my pullover (as supposed to every single piece of clothing I had with me). I used my fleece as a pillow. In the middle of the night, I woke up to the sound of Darth Vader. In the pitch black, I leaned over to Diana and shook her awake.
“Can you breath?”
“Yeah, I’m just cold.”
“Oh.”
Breathe breathe breathe.
Our tents were actually more or less situated on a small incline. She was not only cold but she had slid down towards the end of the tent. Slide slide slide.
“Night.”
Sleep.
4/22/08
Inca Trail: Day 4
We were woken up at 4am with buckets of hot water and soap. In preparation for the early morning, most of us had packed up our stuff the night before and pretty much slept in the clothes we were wearing the next day. I stripped the long johns, pulled on the pantalones, packed the remaining items in my pack and cleared out the tent, only a few minutes behind Diana.
For breakfast we had crepes filled with manjar blanco and tea. Right after breakfast, we were given 10 minutes to run to the restrooms. The group met up again and set out to get in line at the final checkpoint. We were in line at 5:15am, behind only a couple of other groups. The checkpoint opened at 5:30am.
We practically sprinted for two hours, passing tired folk with mini packs on the trail. Took a quick break to strip layers as it was already getting hot as the sun started peeking over the mountains. One more small climb and there it was.
Still cast in a shadow, Machu Picchu sat still below us. After 3.5 days of walking, we were finally at the Sun Gate. I can’t even describe the feeling of satisfaction. I admit, I had doubted this whole excursion in the middle of the second day but seeing that below you…I knew there was a reason I’d wanted to do this. This made it all worth it.
There were a bunch of other tour groups with us at the Sun Gate, waiting for the sun to rise up behind us and illuminate Machu Picchu. I asked a random person to take a group picture with Machu Picchu in the background, Edgar included. Not long after, we watched Machu Picchu
light up and then started on the hour climb down. On the way, we ran into a llama in the middle of the trail. Caitlin and I made several unsuccessful attempts at taking a photo with him and then finally got a good one. At the very end of the trail going into Machu Picchu was a group of llamas. I spotted a baby llama and decided to go make friends. Mama Llama didn’t waste time in making her approach.
Having a llama almost break into a run at you is only a little frightening. Edgar told us that llama spit causes a skin infection. I see. Noted. Retreat.
After checking in our packs and using the oh-so-clean Machu Picchu bathrooms (they had seats!), we spent the next couple of hours with Edgar who gave us the official tour. It was my second time there but I hadn’t been for almost eight years so I wante
d to do the tour again since after all the trekking and other ruin background, it would have more of a context. Kuno, having already seen it a few times, decided to go hike Huayna Picchu, the 1 hour hike to the peak at Machu Picchu (overachiever).
The weather was gorgeous – sunny and hot. For the dehydrated, however, the heat was taking a toll. Jen ended up making an exit halfway through the tour to seek shade by the restaurant. Edgar took us around, pointing out the functionality of different rooms and stones and highlighting the intelligence of the Quecha people. I swear, everything these people built had a purpose (as it should). To think that this took decades to build for an empire that only ended up lasted 94 years is impressive, but sad.
At the end of the tour, Edgar gave us a feedback form (I gave him all As) and our bus tickets down to Aguas Calientes. We left Machu Picchu and found Jen napping outside the entrance. She and Edgar ended up leaving a little earlier to go down to Aguas Calientes while the rest of the group took a half hour to use the nice bathrooms one last time (worth every sol). We then boarded the bus down the mountain.
The bus pulled in to the town about a half hour later. We walked up the block and started getting hassled by the people outside the restaurants, asking us to come in. One waiter asked me if I was the jefe of the group and promised pisco sours for everyone. His companero came over and then promised us bread and lemonade. I took this as an offering of all three items. I translated for those that didn’t understand and we nodded at the waiters. They led us into the restaurant to a long table in the back, perfect for the 10 of us (Kuno was still hiking Huayna Picchu and Jen and Edgar were at another location down the street – we would meet up with them all later).
Upon handing us the menus, Waiter #1 told me I had to choose whether I wanted pisco sours, bread or lemonade. I scoffed at him, annoyed since he had originally offered all three. Camilo and I ended up bullying him into giving us the pisco sours (which were probably watered down anyway) and the bread. When the waiter came back with the bread, he asked me where I learned Spanish. I told him my family was Peruvian. He made no comment about my accent (unlike the person that told me I sounded Venezuelan).
The majority of the group got pizza for lunch. I got trucha a la plancha (trout) with arroz y papas fritas. The food ended up being pretty tasty. During the meal, a local music group started playing Andes music. The waiter grabbed an instrument and started dancing. Nice touch guys.
We left the restaurant satisfied. Walked down to where Edgar had told us to meet him (Pacha Mama). Met up with him, got our train tickets and then decided to split up for an hour before we had to be back to claim our bags. I went to the local internet café, checked email and made a couple of phone calls. Then went back to Pacha Mama. It was quarter to 2. At 2pm, the two porters that stayed behind to watch extra bags needed to run to catch a train. A few of us decided to grab all the bags that were still left and hang out at the restaurant while everyone else continued wandering around the town.
Edgar asked me where Kuno was. I said I had no idea. Edgar looked concerned. Apparently he had told Kuno to be down at Aguas Calientes between 1 and 2pm. It was already quarter past 2. I tried calling him on his cell phone but it wasn’t going through. Ended up calling my Tia Lucia to see if she could get in touch with him. She said she’d try and call me back.
Edgar was looking more and more concerned – partly because he was worried about Kuno since he had gone to do the peak by himself but also because he needed to run and catch a 3 o’clock train and didn’t want to leave knowing that the group wasn’t together and safe. I heard my phone ringing again and saw that Lucia was calling. When I picked up, it was Camila saying she’d tried calling him and that he hadn’t picked up. At that moment, he appeared, looking exhausted and mildly annoyed. I quickly told Camila that we’d found him and that we’d call later. Kuno sat down at the table, fielding the “where the heck were you?” questions. Turns out he’d finished his hike, gone to the bag check at the site, seen a pole that looked like Camilo’s pole and assumed we were still at Machu Picchu. The bad assumption led him to go around looking for us at Machu Picchu, after we’d already taken the bus down to Aguas Calientes. He’d finally given up and caught a bus down and voila. Here he was.
While Kuno ate some pizza, the rest of us ordered some beers (Cusquenas). Edgar took off not long after, giving us all handshakes and kisses on the cheek. At 3:30, the wandering group members reported back. We hung out for a bit and then around 4:15pm, gathered up the bags and walke
d over to the train station. At the train station, we sat for another few minutes before getting the call that the 5:03 train for Cusco was boarding. It was assigned seating on the F car, but the group was seated together. Some of us passed out. The rest proceeded to be loud and obnoxious for the first hour of the train ride, reliving Edgar stories, inside jokes from the trek, the food, etc. The train chugged along. We wouldn’t get into Cusco until around 10pm or so. We eventually all passed out, only to get a rude awakening two hours shy of arrival. The train to Cusco actually spends a portion of its route going back and forth down a slope, changing tracks each direction to further descend or ascend the mountain. The F car being the last train in the car, upon reaching this point of reversal, became the first train. The officer stationed on our car would, at every change of direction, blow a whistle. How is one supposed to sleep with the jerking of the train and the whistling?
Needless to say, when we finally all pulled into Cusco we were tired and crabby. We found our van, boarded, lifted our spirits with some more memory exchange. O
ur van driver went into true peruano mode and ended up backing up a street to the first drop off point. After dropping off our new California friends, we got dropped off at the Amaru II, not far from our original hostal, the Amaru I.
After some minor check in difficulties, the seven of us retreated to our respective rooms. The day was over. We’d finished the trail. And here we were in Cusco again. Sleeping in beds. Using hot water. Wearing flip flops instead of hiking boots. I think it’s safe to say that it was the most physically challenging thing I’ve ever done in my life. But like I said earlier, getting to the Sun Gate and seeing Machu Picchu below you makes it all worth it.
I’d do it again in a heartbeat.
We lazied around the rest of the afternoon and then around 5:30, Jen, Caitlin and Janet came over to the apartment. We left, the six former trekkers, to walk down the street to the Municipilidad in Miraflores. We stopped on the way at Manolo's to buy churros. Then we boarded the Mirabus, a double decker tour bus. On the second level, we gallivanted around Lima, stopping for lonche at the Hotel Bolivar. An announcement came over the loudspeaker halfway through saying that they were rearranging the route because the Plaza de Armas was closed for some kind of government function. When we boarded the
bus again after lonche, we got news that the Plaza was open again. The bus headed over and we oohed and ahhed at the Plaza buildings, illuminated and glowing in the otherwise dark sky. The bus headed back to Miraflores, passing by the Marriot and Larcomar. We returned to the Municipilidad, deboarded and walked back to the Marriott and the apartment. At 11pm, Diana and I were sprawled at on our respective air mattresses in the Kafka presidential suite. I stayed up a while longer to upload photos to Picasa. I think what made it up there is only a quarter of what I actually have to work with. Woot woot 4 GB.
