Made it to Cusco
We never expected the highlight of our week in Peru to be... the tea.
After twenty hours of travel, including a red-eye from LAX, we arrived at the humble Cusco airport, gathered our bags, and sped through customs. The money exchanger gave us small-denomination bills and coins (yay) which the ATM did not. No one likes to take big bills.
Airport in Cusco
(Alejandro Velasco Astete International)
Out of the dozen signs outside, zero had our name or our hotel name on it, so we waited. I ignored the persistent call of "taxi, taxi", which quickly grated on me, even more so due to minimal sleep. As a woman who usually travels solo, my first inclination is to ignore unsolicited offers and behave more confidently than I feel. A year spent in India honed this. I kept saying to my mom, "Don't talk to anyone, don't tell them anything," but was probably being unnecessarily paranoid.
Less than 15 minutes later, an elderly man approached with my father's name (horribly misspelled) on a sign but more importantly knew which hotel we were going to without prompting. Legit.
The driver introduced himself as David (it would not be the last time someone gave us a decidedly American-sounding name) and we piled into the minivan.
He spoke English well and comfortably chatted with us as he navigated the increasingly narrow streets of Cusco. He whipped around a traffic circle, leaving literally inches to spare between us and the bus on the left as he explained the significance of buildings or statues we passed. He calmly lamented the increasing traffic on the maze of streets (most only wide enough for one car) even as he skillfully squeezed his way through. About half hour into the drive, he suddenly pulled off to the side.
We were at our hotel.
The only sign to our hotel
And an example, perhaps, of Spanish reconstruction vs. original Inca stonework?
Our First Coca Tea
In the hotel dining area, David put several green leaves into four styrofoam cups, filled them with hot water, and handed one to each of us. Coca tea, he told us. We sipped the hot tea. Not too strong or bitter. Slightly licorice-y. Unusual. None of us thought this would become a daily habit...
After the hotel lady took our passports (and the ever-important white paper inserts from customs), David explained the tours he ran. Loud, plopping sounds started echoing, turning into a full-blown hail storm. He spoke louder to compensate as he admitted that the tours were his real business (ah) and described the major sites in the Sacred Valley area we could see in a day tour.
Although skeptical of the unsolicited sales pitch, I did want to see the sights within driving distance without having to figure out the local bus system. I also thought that sitting in a car would be a good way to take it easy for our first day acclimatizing. David seemed a nice enough fellow, so in the end, we settled for a shortened version of the tour the next morning at 9am. When we finished our tea and had our passports and room keys in hand, we hiked to the third floor, out of breath almost immediately.
But what a view!
On the Streets of Cusco
Choquechaca Street
(I just like saying that.)
The sky cleared quickly with little evidence of the hailstorm. After dropping off our bags, we headed into town to look for our tour company's office.
Our Inca Trail departure was scheduled for Tuesday, but as they instructed, we arrived at least forty-eight hours early to check in and acclimatize to the high-altitude. (Cusco is conveniently at 11,200 feet.) Since the next day was both a Sunday and a holiday, it wasn't clear if the office for Llama Path was open, so we flew in a day early, just in case.
We navigated the streets of central Cusco using our handy printed Google map. The map was not hard to follow, but the lack of right angles (and the fact that it was hard to tell whether or not the narrow alley we just passed was worthy of a street name) made it tricky. I loved the streets, though! Some had stairs, some ended at plazas, and some curved around a bend and you never knew where you were going to end up. It was a mysterious labyrinth.
With dogs. Lots of dogs. (No cats, though.)
If you imagine an elaborate Incan ruin, tightly-packed shells of buildings with the famous perfect-fitting stone at the foundation, then imagine a European sensibility built on top of that, red rooves and all, you have Central Cusco. No individual buildings, instead entire city blocks of buildings. The first story is Incan stonework but the second, third, and fourth are standard concrete, whitewashed and poked through with regular windows. Narrow streets and alleys are the only way through, leading to hidden courtyards and vast plazas (complete with Spanish cathedrals.)
I couldn't help but wonder about plumbing. And how garbage was collected. Yet the cobblestone streets were swept clean, and I saw notches on many streets for drainage. (Indeed, as we learned later, the Incans were masters of controlling the flow of rainwater through their complexes.)
There were sidewalks, thank God, providing a safe ledge to walk on as cars sped next to us through the tight corridors. Honking and car fumes followed us around downtown, but the drivers were not particularly aggressive. Just speedy.
Streets of Cusco - No Asphalt Here!
Luckily, it did not hail or even rain for the rest of the day. Although Cusco weather is fairly mild (high 60s during the day and low 40s at night, all year) and not nearly as humid as Lima, it does get rained on frequently. We serendipitously avoided that.
We did not get targeted by hawkers until we reached the main Plaza de Armas.
Plaza de Armas (and the Church of the Society of Jesus)
The plaza was beautiful and everything you'd expect a plaza to be, which is probably why it was full of tourists. A splashing fountain in the middle of well-manicured grounds, crisscrossing sidewalks lined with benches, a cathedral on one end, an even bigger cathedral adjacent to that, and covered shopping arcades (arcade = series of arches) on the other three sides with cute stores and restaurants.
Hard to spot; I think Cusco must
not allow logos or giant, custom, neon signs.
Oh, and a Starbucks.
Better than that (and better than the bank with dueling ATMs) was a chocolate shop! Local, yes. Organic, yes. Coca-leaf flavor, yes! We bought a bar.
Every couple minutes, young locals, perhaps students, tried to sell us art. I ignored them and their portfolios. My more polite, less paranoid family members said "No, gracias."
I noticed that, although quite a few locals made a living selling things to tourists, I saw only one child at it and few straight-up beggars.
At Llama Path
We found the office easily near the corner of San Juan and Santa Teresa, despite that signs for businesses were clearly limited in size and style (I almost missed the McDonalds we walked by earlier. No giant, golden "M".) As we sat at the desk and had our passports checked, we saw for the first time the names and ages of the other twelve people we were going to hike with. My parents were the oldest by at least a decade. That was our first hint that we might be the "slow" group. The majority were in their late twenties and early thirties, the youngest 19. The genders were evenly split and all but one person was from North America.
We got the trek spiel, most of which we already knew, and received our orientation meeting time (5pm on Monday) and our official departure time (4:15am Tuesday morning!)
As we would discover, lots of sleep was not going to be a feature of our trip.
First Meal in Peru
A new kind of hawker targeted us on our way back toward the center of the city. Ones well aware that the hour was getting on near dinner.
Every block or so, someone thrust a menu in our path. One persistent woman, who waylaid us as we checked out the more interesting looking eatery next door, went on and on about her restaurant's offerings. The plates themselves sounded fine, but in general, if you have to beg me to eat at your restaurant, the food probably isn't stellar. Also, this (and quite a few other restaurants we saw) were called "Restaurante Turistico" which looks a lot like "Tourist Restaurant" and why would anyone ever want to eat there?
Now I know what to say to menu hawkers?
Someone later told us that a "Restaurante Turistico" was a place that had a variety of international food options (Italian and Mexican were featured predominantly.) Still, I'm in Peru. Might as well try some Peruvian food.
We took a chance and followed my mom down an alternate side street that looked like it went generally back in the direction of our hotel. We passed a nightclub, techno music spilling out even at the early hour of 6pm. Then we turned right and found ourselves on a wide stairway with buildings on either side. A stair street? The street had a name on the map, but it was just stairs. And, consequently, no cars!
A sign with a variety of handwritten food options caught my attention. The top item said, "Alpaca Strogonoff."
The man standing near the sign did not so much as say "Hello" let alone show us a menu.
We totally ate here!
The waiter spoke surprisingly good English for what looked like a tiny, family-run business. We sat at one of the six tables with colorful thick tablecloths and ordered three different alpaca dishes (passing on the recommended guinea pig since it served 3 and we wanted to try a variety of things.) On the whole, the food at "La Divina Rosa" was delicious! The cozy atmosphere included American 80s music playing in the background, free wifi, cool art, and odd intestinal drawings on one of the two bathroom doors that may or may not have indicated that one bathroom was for #2...
As we walked away, I pondered that it must be a really hard restaurant to drive to, whether for patrons, staff, or cooks. Maybe they carry all that food up the stairs.
Things You Need To Ask Your Hotel Clerk In Different Countries
This sign is not going for brevity
They wanted the whole sentence!
![Hotel Sign: None [sp] Smoking Rooms](none-smoking-rooms-small.jpg)
Maybe because short phrases are problematic...
The lady at hotel reception confirmed something that we only had a hint of at the Lima airport: that you are not supposed to put toilet paper in the toilet (instead, you put it in the trash can.)
Plumbing has been a source of confusion in much of my travels.
Either many hotels do not realize that North Americans will be clueless about this requirement, or it is not as big a deal as it seems. I would like to learn why plumbing in some countries (India being another, ambiguous in Russia) has difficulty accepting toilet paper. It usually goes down if you flush, assuming you don't put too much in... but then what happens? Why is it problematic?
I just like to know for sure. Because I'd much rather stick it in the toilet. Come on, tourist industry! Give me a hint here.
(Though it occurred to me later that I have never once seen a toilet in North America inform tourists, "TP is no problem here! Go on, drop in as much as you want!")
Ear Plugs?
TripAdvisor warned us that Cusco might be loud. I pictured partying young tourists in one of the many backpacker hostels scattered about the center of the city. But it might be more.
After I took my diamox capsule (which we decided had fewer side effects than the tablet), I lay down to sleep and heard something that sounded like fireworks in the distance and dogs barking, but the sounds died out before too long.
Nothing was loud enough to actually keep me awake. Perhaps we are in a shoulder season? The morning brought with it car honks, the beeping of garbage trucks, and several sets of church bells (well, it was Sunday morning), but I still never felt the need to open the ear plugs the hotel provided.
Breakfast
Made-to-order eggs, croissants, ham and cheese, spinach casserole, and bacon were some the offerings of the hotel buffet breakfast along with the ever-present coca tea, black tea, and an impressive selection of juice - pineapple, papaya, passion fruit and orange that tasted freshly squeezed. Yum, yum. We greeted a fellow wearing a T-shirt with our state flag of Colorado, but, either confused or joking, he insisted it was a Czech Republic flag. (A quick Google search disproved that.)
The nicest thing the hotel kitchen staff did was re-fill our water bottles (with filtered RO water from their supply.)
This is a big deal since the hotel only provided water bottles the first day and this is not a country where you drink the tap water (we weren't even brushing our teeth with it.) Luckily, not one but two convenience stores were within a 5-minute walk of our hotel and sold many sizes of bottled water. It cost 1 sole, about 30 cents, for 1 liter.
Though, honestly, I wish we did not have to buy (and throw away) so many bottles. Cusco badly needs recycling!
Tour of the Sacred Valley
After breakfast, we lounged on the couches and waited for David. But, instead, a man in his mid twenties approached, introduced himself to us as "Jimmy", and said he was our tour guide for the day. He wore too much sunscreen, a wide-brimmed hat, a button-down shirt, and a shiny skull buckle on his light-colored slacks. But he was aware of our custom 9am-2pm plan, so we knew it was the right guy. We followed him out to a white sedan, a significantly smaller car than we had been driven from the airport in. Jimmy was nice enough, but it felt a bit like a bait-and-switch. The back seat was tight for three. Still, we rolled with it.
He started the tour with Jesus.
Like the Rio Jesus, the statue stood on a hill above the city. Jimmy drove up the hill, honking, swerving, braking, just missing dogs, children, and other cars, to reach it, the charm on the rear-view mirror swinging back and forth. (Oddly, I still felt like he was driving safely. Despite the lack of seatbelt, I was unconcerned.) The white Jesus statue, significantly smaller than the Rio version, was surrounded by a barbed-wire fence. But the view of red-roofed Cusco was unbeatable.
The "Cristo Blanco" and the View of Plaza de Armas
I am getting so sunburned right now and not realizing it...
From up here, I could really appreciate the size and hilliness of Cusco. Jimmy pointed out a few things like a blue cross on a hill that Pope John Paul II erected. His book-learned English was not as fluent as David's, but still quite good. Then we piled back in the car and continued on our way.
As we ventured up into the outskirts of Cusco, the city became more run down and dilapidated. None of the Inca stonework or whitewashed walls, just dusty streets and simple brick buildings. Newer. Poorer. He drove up switchbacks, going up into the hills outside the city. I spotted several tour buses along the way. Along a valley road with few houses, we pulled off at our next stop: an animal sanctuary.
Animal Sanctuary on the Side of the Road
I found out later that this humble complex is a common stop on the tourist circuit, but the staff seemed genuinely dedicated to caring for the variety of animals they had rescued.
Few visitors were there (perhaps we were in between buses) and several staff members spoke to us during the tour, showing us llamas, alpacas, parakeets, macaws, ducks, and even a puma hiding in a high corner. My parents got a lesson on turtle genitalia and the shape of underbellies before our guide gave the young man a dark look and he quieted down.
Since we're in the Andes, doesn't that
make an "Andean Mountain Cat" just a cat?
We were allowed to get up close and even pet the friendly llamas if we wanted (there were unfriendly ones, too.) We also spotted a few random monkeys in cages, though there were more birds than anything.
The most amusing thing was the animal with the sign to the right. The staff member warned that it was vicious and dangerous, so to be cautious with our fingers near the chain link fence.
We saw it. We were pretty sure it was a housecat.
(Not that housecats aren't vicious... especially to all the stray dogs.)
The coolest part, even if cheesy and staged, was the condor. The handlers put the condor on one side of the hill and us tourists on the other. The large space was entirely enclosed by netting so there was no escape. Then he signaled the creature to fly over to where we were. The giant bird was indeed impressive both in flight and afterward, standing all dignified on a carved stone perch that conveniently had the snake and puma carved into it.
They told us that the snake, puma, and condor represent the three levels of spirituality in Incan mythology. (Underworld, earth, and heaven maybe?)
The enormous condor, in flight and physically topping off the Incan spiritual trifecta post
They solicited a donation. I suppose "The Flight of the Condor" is one way to make money off easily-impressed visitors. We gave and got a postcard in return, though did not patronize the gift shop. Our driver, Jimmy, had already parked the car on the far side of the sanctuary so we piled in and off we went.
First Look at the Sacred Valley
The road led downward now, revealing grand views of the valley on the other side of the mountains from Cusco. The Sacred Valley, we learned, is not called that for any religious or spiritual reason. It is called that because early inhabitants believed that the shape of the river and towns along it reflected the Milky Way in the sky above.
Jimmy told us this and more during various pull-offs where we listened to him and tried to avoid the few older women at each stop selling corn, bracelets, hat bands, beads, whistles, and textiles. We didn't buy anything; perhaps the women had better luck with the tour buses that pulled in when we were on our way out.
View of the Sacred Valley
View of Pisac from Overlook
At the last stop, Jimmy told us an old legend of a princess who was destined to marry the first man who managed to build a bridge and cross the river toward her. As long as she did not turn to look at him. But she did. And promptly turned to stone. So now the (woman-shaped) stone sits on the mountain overlooking Pisac and protecting it. (Not haunting, like I would have guessed.)
Pisac
Road to Pisac Ruins
We reached the valley floor and crossed the same river into the village of Pisac (or Pisaq, depending on which map or sign you happen to be reading.) Much smaller than Cusco, Pisac has two main items of interests for visitors like us - the market and the ruins, despite that the sign claims expansively "Lo tiene todo" which I'm roughly translating as "It has it all." In the interest of time, we decided to skip the market so Jimmy drove through the narrow streets of the city and climbed the hill on the far side.
Rough Location of Ruins
(The Incans like a challenge?)
One Way Peru Gets Money Out of Tourists: The Tourist Ticket
One spot along the road had a few small buildings and shacks. He pulled off. We had to buy a Tourist Ticket (a "boleto turistico") for entrance to the ruins. It also serves as a ticket to several other sites in the area. There was a cheaper short-term one and a longer 10-day one, but none just to get into the Pisac ruins themselves. Having done my internet research before coming, I argued for the 10-day one since we'd for sure see at least three sites on it during the trip. (I found out later that my information was out of date...) They did not take dollars or plastic and it took about all the Peruvian cash we had (combined) to pay for the four of them. At least we didn't have to wait in the long line that suddenly formed behind us when a bus arrived.
Jimmy continued up switchbacks until we came to an abrupt stop at the end of a long line of cars and buses.
The Inca Pisac Ruins
At first we thought traffic had backed up. Then we realized (when the people in the car in front of us exited their vehicle) that the right lane of traffic had turned into parking! This left only a single narrow lane in between the parked vehicles on either side, a lane that served both directions of traffic. And there was a very large bus coming. To his credit, instead of killing the engine and continuing the "let's just stop and park here" trend, Jimmy waited until the bus had passed, then darted forward and managed to find a spot further up along the left.
Pisac Ruins Parking
As expected, a ton of tourists were here from all over the world. Jimmy spoke extensively as we walked, explaining Incan culture and history. His academic English caused his accent to be sometimes off, but I learned a fair amount (and even remember some of it). For example, since the Incans had no system of money, they couldn't collect taxes. Instead, every citizen worked for the government for several years as a contractor and that's how so much got built.
The ruins don't look that far up
from down here
When we walked up past the terraces toward the ruins above, the upward slope turned into stairs. Unthinking, we climbed the first set of stairs at normal speed, but suddenly felt the need to stop at the landing. Jimmy continued bounding up and we followed after a moment's rest, climbing slower and slower. Breathing hard. Remembering now that we were at 10,000 feet altitude.
Jimmy waited for us at the top. When we reached him, dad first, then my brother, the me, then my mom, he took us around the complex, explaining the purposes of different rooms, some practical, some spiritual. Light-headed, we listened to him describe how all these buildings once had thatched roofs and showed us one that had been re-thatched as an example.
A worry settled over me. Comparatively, this was one small ruin. Not even fifteen minutes of stairs. We planned to do this for an entire day? Multiple days? Had I underestimated the difficulty of the Inca Trail? Could we possibly acclimatize in time for the reputed Day 2, fewer than three days away?
We continued exploring and realized we had also underestimated the slipperiness. The steep, uneven stone stairs (very few with railings) often had sand or dirt on them. Hiking boots offered enough traction, but some of us were in sneakers for our "take-it-easy" day touring the surrounds of Cusco.
You can see the difference between the regular stonework and the tightly-packed "Imperial" style.
The no-mortar-needed kind was only used for more important places and buildings.
Looking back down from the top. A little light-headed.
The time was nearly 1:00. After a pit stop (Mom said the facilities had a clean flush toilet! I hadn't even tried it, assuming the worst), we returned to the hot car, glad we brought so much water with us. We were at the ruins for perhaps an hour, hour and a half. I did put sunscreen on, I swear, but somehow I was starting to get red...
Jimmy asked what we wanted to do. My brother suggested we finish off the loop instead of going back to Cusco the same way we came. Off we went!
Google Map of our Sacred Valley loop from Pisac back to Cusco
Sacred Valley
Driving through the high-altitude valley gave us a glimpse of rural Peru. The tiny towns we drove through had the dusty, run-down look of many developing countries, but they seemed bustling and active.
The mountains often had giant numbers or names on it, purely for directional purposes. If we hadn't been told that, it might have looked kind of creepy seeing a random number 712 on a hill.
Each town had something special about it. When we entered Lamay, we passed a statue of a guinea pig. Further in, we saw folks on either side of road in tent stalls, frying up meat and selling it right there. We looked closer and Jimmy confirmed it. Guinea pig on a stick! The town specialty!
We, uh, declined.
The village of Calca had a statue of a puma (the importance of which we learned at the animal sanctuary earlier.) In another town, we saw a giant slide. One other thing we noticed was that, in almost every town, there was a sign leading to archeological grounds. It seems that Incan ruins are everywhere. Some are larger and well-preserved, some partially built up again, and some completely re-purposed by the Spanish. Plenty to see, should one choose.
My favorite sign over the road said "Come back Soom". Cute! Yes, I'm easily amused by misspellings on signs.
Something else I spotted was auto-rickshaws! I'm not sure if that is what they are called here and they did not have the uniformity or number compared to a city in India, but it was fun to spot them. Each rickshaw had a unique color and style, some fancy. A good transport around the little towns.
Sacred Valley Autorickshaws!
The driver got gas for around 9 soles a gallon (about $3.50) in Urubamba. Mom gave Jimmy one of our protein bars since we were snacking on them instead of stopping for lunch. Then Jimmy started driving up out of the valley, back in the direction of Cusco.
The views of the snow-capped peaks behind us were stunning! I wish we'd stopped for photos.
Chinchero District
We reached Chinchero, a comparatively large town with a popular tourist market, where Jimmy told us they are building an airport perhaps to compete with Cusco. It sits at 12,000+ feet (whew) and over eighty percent of the population is indigenous Quechua (which includes the Inca.)
Chinchero District's archeological site
Jimmy drove up increasingly narrow roads through town until they became dirt. At the top of a hill, we reached a small complex of buildings around a courtyard. On the other side, we had the view of the famous ruins in the area, which the Spanish built churches on top of. Then we turned around and were led into the building...
...and into a tourist spiel.
Sigh.
Just like in Agra (where we learned the craft of Taj Mahal-style inlaid marble), we were guided to benches, served tea, and given an explanation from the local women - at least the one who spoke English - about how they did traditional-style dyeing and weaving of alpaca wool. The presentation was fine. What I disliked was the feeling of it.
There was a tip gourd (yes, a gourd) in case the obligation to buy their products wasn't strong enough.
However, like in Agra, that obligation and the sense that these were likely unique authentic products ended up winning. But only because they took US Dollars, as we were almost out of Peruvian Soles.
I got an alpaca sweater for $25, though she didn't like my five dollar bill because of a small rip. So I felt more justified for insisting to my bank teller a week ago that she give me high-quality bills. The lady took my other five.
After we made our purchases, the group of ladies, all dressed traditionally, came out and sang to us. Then they took photos of us wearing some traditional hats and ponchos. In an amusing switcheroo, my mom decided to dress one of the ladies up in her backpack, hat, and sunglasses. The other ladies were cracking up at this. Then they started dancing and, in what felt like an authentic and fun moment of spontaneity, invited us - even Jimmy - to dance with them. (Jimmy got a sip of beer mid dance-step. Not too much, he's got to drive us back!) We went with it, spinning with the ladies at a town with an elevation far higher than the highest city in Colorado.
Grooving with the Locals
The feeling was positive and made up for the "buy our stuff!" presentation earlier. They walked us to our car and we learned how to say goodbye in the local language and said it before he waved and drove away. (What I'll never know is if the spontaneous dancing is a service they provide to all paying customers. But it felt real. And we all had a great time!)
We entered Cusco from a different direction, riding under a "Bienvenido a Cusco" banner. When we reached our hotel, it was 4:15pm, two hours later than planned, though not a huge deal. We tried to pay Jimmy, but he said that we were supposed to settle up with the company. What company was that, we wondered, but we at least tipped him before returning to the hotel dining area to sit and relax on the couches and have a nice cup of coca tea.
Hotel Coca Tea Station
(The leaves are on the right)
Events in Plaza de Armas, Part 1
We were low on both local currency and potable fluids. After stopping at the convenience store for some large bottles of water - we got 1.5 liter this time and also bought some dark chocolate there - we searched out an international ATM. We were successful on Plaza de Armas, no surprise, since it is the tourist hangout. The art hawkers continued, joined now by ladies (sometimes with young children in tow) asking if we wanted a massage.
Then, right at dusk, we heard a horn suddenly play.
We looked around and saw a contingent of 8 uniformed military-looking men and 8 uniformed local-security-looking woman goose-step marching into the plaza. (I've always had trouble disassociating goose-stepping from the Nazis and I'm surprised every time I see another country use the impractical-looking march.)
The men and women lined up along two flagpoles. Then one member of each group slowly pulled the cable to lower the flags. Local police closed a portion of the sidewalk to keep curious tourists from getting too close with their cameras.
Plaza de Armas Flag Ceremony
The men lowered and folded the flag of Peru, careful not to let any part of it touch the ground (which looked challenging in the stiff breeze). The women did the same with the Cusco flag (not to mistaken for the LGBT Pride flag.) They folded each flag into a heavy-looking square, not triangle, of cloth. I wondered if they did this ceremony every morning and evening? Weekly? Or if it was a special occasion.
As they marched away, the clock struck 6.
For reference:
Peru Flag, Cusco Flag, LGBT Flag
We wandered through neighborhoods after dark looking for dinner. A narrow set of short streets gave us the creeps, especially my mom, which is surprising since I'm the paranoid freak about stuff like that. The frequency of bars was high, the restaurants had unusually cheap prices, and sketchy-looking people were here and there. We appeared to be in the backpackers section of downtown, or maybe something worse. But two blocks later, we escaped back to one of the main drags.
We passed several pizzerias, but nothing was calling our name.
As we stood on one side of the busy street, hoping for a break in the fast-paced traffic to cross, a car stopped. Was it an illegal taxi thinking to offer us a ride?
Nope!
The kind driver was simply stopping to let us cross. How nice! We crossed over.
Skipping the Laminated Beef
On the other side of the street was a nice, if slightly fancy restaurant. After perusing the menu and deciding it looked good, we walked inside, looking for a host to seat us. Even though it was 6:30pm, we appeared to be the first diners of the night (similar to the previous evening, where we started out as the only patrons of the restaurant.) They sat us at a table in the back, near the decorative waterfall.
The menu for "Paprika" had English explanations for a variety of delicious-sounding dishes, including a dessert called Explósion de Chocolat. The only menu snafu (aside from the fact that my drink menu was upside down) was a description that started with "Laminated beef." The cooks probably wonder why so few tourists choose that dish...
Prices were reasonable enough. $10-$14 entrees, just like back home. Dad and Jack went with an alpaca steak. Mom had a chicken mushroom dish and I tried a beef risotto. The food was tasty even if the beer was substandard. We realized, after they wanted to charge our meal to #316, that we were in a hotel restaurant! Instead of letting the residents of that room foot our bill, my dad waited at the bar for change. It looks like 10% is the going tip rate here.
Sunburn-inspired Purchases
I realized by now that I was sunburnt, including the part in my hair. (The drawback of double braids.) And, moreover, that I needed a floppy hat if I were to survive the Inca Trail unscathed. I walked into a market that opened up into one of those secret courtyards - full of vendors - and bought the first floppy hat I found for about $3. It said "MachuPicchu" on it. My brother scored a shot glass in the meantime.
As we walked back through the streets, I took note of the kind of shops we passed. The most common were: travel agencies, clothing stores, alpaca goods shops, and outdoor equipment stores. The travel agencies looked like clones of each other, showing a giant poster of pictures of local destinations like Machu Picchu, offering 2-day bus and car trips. Lots of adventure tours were listed. Many also offered plane tours of Nazca Lines, the most tempting choice on there. They all said "Free Information" on them, which seemed a bit silly. Information is almost always free, especially when it's advertising.
We reached the plaza and glanced up at the hill.
Jesus lights up at night!
Back at our hotel, we filled out our postcard and ate our chocolate. We retired early in anticipation of more acclimitizing and sightseeing in Cusco the next day. And hopefully fewer stairs.
Google Map of our Walk Past the "Twelve-Angled Stone"
Buying Drugs On The Street?
Unique religious art I saw for sale here:
A breast-feeding Mary
Our route to the Plaza in the morning took us along a bigger street, obviously the way the tourist industry expected we would walk. Instead of a quiet alley, we were met with constant stores and vendors. Art, trinkets, maps, stuffed animals, alpaca clothing, and jewelry was for sale either in the tiny shops, on carpets laid out on the side of the street, or within stalls in huge markets that you only saw if you happened to turn your head at the right time to see the long alley inward.
I recalled that many of the travel sites I read recommended chewing coca leaves to help with altitude sickness and energy levels while on the Inca Trail. I wondered where one would purchase coca leaves. We saw them at our hotel, but nowhere else. I even asked the vendor at a general store if she sold them, but she had no idea what I was talking about in my mediocre Spanish.
An older woman on the tourist street was selling coca candy, advertising it using a little bag of green coca leaves at the top of her display. Once she understood what I meant, she happily sold me the bag itself for 2 soles. My mom laughed because exchanging money for a clandestine bag looked like a drug transaction, something her innocent daughter would never engage in.
What should have occurred to me is that I wouldn't actually want to put anything in my mouth that I had gotten raw off some stranger. I should have bought the individually-wrapped candies; I would have eaten those.
But it was an amusing experience nonetheless.
The street where I bought the coca leaves is also the location of the famous Twelve-Angled Stone, which we didn't even know was there. We wondered why a bunch of people were hanging out in the middle of the street, many of them taking photos.
These super-polygonal stones (image borrowed from Wiki, but we totally walked by this!) can be found
on many Inca walls and are, I believe, one of the first stones set and help hold the rest in place
Coricancha
This is one of Cusco's main tourist attractions... and one that does not take the tourist ticket.
After jogging across a curvy street, cars whipping around, and walking by the ladies who wanted us to pay to take a photo of them and their cute llama, we entered the complex and wandered through. We saw lots of examples of the tightly-packed masonry that the Incans were famous for including a teeny stone that perfectly fit in a teeny slot. (Famously, this building was hit by an earthquake and the Incan foundation survived unscathed under the damaged Spanish building.)
See?
But my three favorite things about Coricancha were not stone related.
- In the art gallery, there is a small sculpture of the Virgin Mary while pregnant! (These physical aspects of motherhood are rarely alluded to in European Christian representations of Mary. I'd never seen pregnant Mary, though obviously, she must have been pregnant at some point.)
- There are clean bathrooms! Apparently, Cusco is on top of the clean-facilities-at-tourist-locations dream that I have.
- Check out this new way to see the Milky Way. Instead of naming star constellations, the indigenous population looked up into the sky and named the *shadow shapes in between stars* as animals grazing and drinking from the river of the Milky Way in the middle. Love it!
Photo I borrowed online since the painting was cool but I failed to take a picture myself
More Drug Transactions
The long, straight road we took back to the Plaza couldn't have been any different than the narrow criss-crossing streets we'd taken on our way to Coricancha.
This street felt far more modern than we'd seen thus far. The sidewalks were wide, there were multiple car lanes, and women and men in jeans or slacks went about their business, walking past glass-fronted facades and smartphone stores. I even spotted a traffic light. (Traffic lights? What are those?)
Avenida El Sol
Although there were few street vendors on this avenue, there was the occasional newscart that, in addition to chocolate bars and magazines, sold coca candy. We decided to buy some for 3 soles (about 1 dollar.)
The ingredients on the little pack were simple: Sugar, glucose, coca flour. We tried one each. Not a very strong flavor. Kinda like a mini cough drop. In no way are we addicted to this stuff.
Events in Plaza de Armas, Part 2
What are these guys doing? Why are they in a big group, playing drums and doing an upbeat chant while carrying a cross with rugs draped on it quickly down the street of the plaza? Is it part of a parade? They went past the cathedral, are they taking it to a different church?
I have no idea.
Come to the Plaza where there's always something inexplicable going on!
Inside the Cusco Cathedral
While at the Plaza, we decided to check out Cusco Cathedral, the "mother church" of the Roman Catholics in Cusco.
It's huge.
It's so enormous that its side chapel (which you enter through and which I thought was the whole thing at first) is the size of a large church in itself but looks tiny compared to the basilica proper.
The exterior, which is kind of interesting but that I never bother photographing, gives no hint to the grandeur of the interior, which I wasn't allowed to take photos of.
The only photos I got were some roof decorations on the side chapels.
You used to be able to enter Cusco Cathedral with the tourist ticket. But no longer! Now there is a "religious ticket" that gets you into some sacred sites in the area. About the only good thing about these theme tickets is it gives you ideas of more places to go... assuming you have time to kill. But it mostly seems like a way to charge for things you probably aren't going to do. At least in this case, we could pay $8 or 8 soles or whatever for individual entry into this cathedral alone.
My parents briefly tried the audio-visual tour with dual headphones (the "Matrimonial Tour," they called it). Despite that it was on an iPad and high tech, they gave up within minutes due to the complexity and silliness of watching a video of a place you are already in.
The side chapel was a bit gaudy - red and gold and mirrors - and very focused on Mary. The side niches had an odd arch construction that left the keystone out to allow an observer to see beyond the arch to the figure above, which is all good except that meant the arch had to be supported in another way.
We walked through to the impossibly expansive main cathedral. There was so much to see, it was overwhelming. The dozens of side displays - often full of gold so you had to look through locked bars - was amazing. Paintings, sculptures and multi-level (golden) displays that reached to the ceiling and had statues in each nook were common. There was an alcove full of silver bowls, tables, and chalices. And all this, just along the side.
Observations: There was no stained glass and hardly any windows. The interior would have been extremely dark in olden days without the bright electric lights. I noticed several instances of Jesus with three halos. Maybe signifying the trinity?
The main cathedral and side chapel both had underground passages that appeared to be old crypts. They were open to the public, undecorated, and had plaques with names and dates. (And were slightly creepy. As they should be.)
You could donate to light an electric candle.
A High-Altitude Guinness
Almost immediately after we exited, we walked by the entrance to Paddy's Irish Pub. It was lunchtime. So yeah!
The most crowded restaurant in Cusco
(at least, while there is a soccer match on)
The place was packed. We sat at the bar, the only open seats, and ate our quesadilla, garlic bread, and lettuce wrap while we enjoyed some beer (I noticed too late that they had hard cider, so abstained from alcohol this time) and we wondered why more and more people were coming into the pub despite that the lunch hour was fading. Then we noticed the CHE-TOT soccer game was on TV. I didn't know what that meant, but as we sat, we learned a lot of Cusco expats are apparently Chelsea fans over Tottenham Hotspur. Whoever they are.
After lunch, our vacated seats were immediately filled. We killed some time sitting in the sun in the plaza, waiting for the chocolate shop to open at 4pm and our orientation meeting to begin at 5pm.
Events in Plaza de Armas, Part 3
Then a ton of people started entering the plaza. A parade of children! (I suppose school hours were over by now.) They marched until they were gathered in front of the Cusco Cathedral.
A woman with a microphone started talking under an arch of balloons, sounding like she was introducing different grades, who would then cheer. The youngest were dressed in white.
My parents had a good guess as to what this was. (They went to Catholic School, too.) They called it the "May Procession" which honors Mary. We were going to watch the whole thing, but it went on too long and it was time to walk to the Llama Path office.
Orientation!
Tonight we met the other hikers in our group for the first time! The sixteen of us sat in a U-shape of chairs and listened as "Roger", our friendly tour guide, introduced himself and talked about the hike. His English was great and he seemed experienced and outgoing.
Most of what he said, we knew already. (And most of his suggestions, had you not already been planning on it, would have been pretty hard to prepare for in the scant hours between the end of the orientation and the beginning of the trip.) Weridly, there were all these teacups set out on the table, so I thought we were going to socialize after the meeting, but they must have been for someone else.
Notable things he told us:
- The red bus would leave from the nearby Plaza Regocijo promptly at 4:30am. The plan was to stop for breakfast along the way and reach the trailhead at 8:30am.
- There are 26 support staff (22 porters, 2 chefs, and 2 guides) for 16 hikers.
- The standard tipping rates for various members of staff was what we expected. (I'd brought the equivalent of US$100 for that purpose.)
- He recommended walking sticks and almost convinced me to rent some, but I didn't.
- The water we would be provided at lunch and camp stops during the trek was absolutely safe to drink. (He emphasized it so much, I decided to forego the water tablets I brought.)
- Use hand sanitizer if you touch anything on the trail (since lots of people do their business on the trail.)
Roger was prone to exaggeration. In one case, he said the first day could get very hot, up to 90 degrees! He said it repeatedly, but it was unlikely since the hottest temperature ever recorded in Cusco in the dead of summer (which we were not in) was 86 and Cusco is hotter than the trail. But perhaps he was just trying to mentally prepare us.
Finally, we got our red porter bags. For each porter, there were two duffels and for each duffel, they gave us a fresh plastic insert (yay! I was going to use garbage bags if they hadn't, even though the duffels did not seem particularly dirty or anything.) They were labeled with our names already. I was amazed at how few other people in our group hired a porter since I had gotten the impression that doing so was standard for most hikers.
Final Preparations
After timing our walk back to the hotel, we embarked on the task of filling up the duffels, our day packs, and water bottles. And also deciding what to leave at the hotel, who kindly said we could leave in the rooms the luggage we wanted to store for the four days we'd be trekking. (This hotel obviously has hosted a lot of hikers.) After that, one final shower and we set our alarms for 3:15am.
![Hotel Sign: None [sp] Smoking Rooms](none-smoking-rooms.jpg)
