While in Peru, I also went to Cusco and Machu Picchu (can’t skip the touristing). Before going, I presumptuously thought that I didn’t need to go to Cusco and Machu Picchu. Why go all that way to look at ruins, the way they look in a postcard, take a picture of yourself there, like you’re in a postcard, and then go home?
I was sorely mistaken, thinking that’s all there was to Machu Picchu. In reality, you could spend weeks in and around the area learning about ancient history, exploring other ruins, climbing mountains, and getting to know the local people.
The journey started with a two-hour flight to Cusco, and upon arrival, everywhere I went, people offered me cocoa leaf and mint leaf tea to help with altitude sickness. Cusco was quite unlike Lima: instead of haphazardly crammed together buildings, rolling barren sand dunes, and electrical wires running everywhere there were cobblestone streets, terracotta roofing, and churches. The colonial influences were much stronger; I felt like I was in Europe. Rolling mountains hugged the little city and a wide river ran beside it.
We stopped in a beautiful second-floor restaurant that overlooked a square to find lunch. On the sidewalks, around the whole square, waitresses and waiters stood outside their restaurant trying to entice tourists inside. I had a very delicious oatmeal with mango sauce and chocolate (the fanciest oatmeal I’ve ever had by far!). Do you find that everything tastes slightly different in different countries? In my experience, each country has their own flavour, even if you made the same thing and all the ingredients were the same. Oftentimes when I travel, I try to make a quiche for whoever is hosting me and even if I use all the same ingredients it always takes on a bit of local flavour. The carrots in some places are sweeter, in others more bitter, and butter and milk are consistently different. This oatmeal I had was more refined than the one I usually eat for breakfast, with a more delicate mix of bitterness from the chocolate and sweetness from the mango and soft chewy oatmeal-ness. Of course, the grass is always greener, and in Canada I would never go to a restaurant and order oatmeal.
Every time we went out to eat in Cusco, the waitress or host would give us a detailed description of the meal. Regardless of the fanciness of the restaurant, there was always an amuse-bouche as well. My favourite was a chocolate cigar – chocolate mousse wrapped in (I think) a delicate chocolate casing and topped with edible flowers – served on a massive rock. “What type of rock is it?” I asked. Nobody knew. “Can I keep it?” They said no. More often than not our waitresses or hosts were local students studying hospitality. Hospitality seems to be a popular postsecondary degree in Cusco! Or at least, it appears to be the case if you’re a tourist.
My friend from Lima told me about his parents age, when the former President Alberto Fujimori crushed the guerrilla groups and fought organized crime groups. His parents had personal stories to tell from that era, of getting carted off by the gangs. Or getting carted off by the government who believed them to be part of a gang (I don’t speak Spanish that well. Take everything I say with many grains of salt).
My friend told me that citizens of the highlands and smaller towns didn’t like Fujimori, because Fujimori’s authoritarian government didn’t respect their rights, and crackdowns and corruptions negatively impacted their lives. But in the cities, my friend said, many people revered Fujimori for bring peace and a reprieve from gang violence.
In Cusco, more than one of the locals we met told us about Fujimori unprompted, and how his reign negatively impacted their communities. I don’t know much about Peruvian political history but this local insight from both my friend and the citizens of Cusco was intriguing. There’s always more to learn about in the world. More than you can find on the Internet.
One day, I took a free walking tour of the city and befriending a Canadian from Mississauga. We bonded over going to neighbouring high schools and local cafés with good board games. No matter how far I travel, I always end up talking to a stranger from close to home. Small world things.
The chocolate in Cusco had a rich, deeper taste than what I’m used to enjoying in Canada. I bought pounds of it to take home. If you plan to visit Cusco, check out my Google list of all the good eats: https://maps.app.goo.gl/BaSbPFbaFAwsykus9?g_st=ac
We explored the Inca citadel called Sacsayhuaman, taking a taxi up to the hill. At every stop there were tour guides asking if we wanted a tour, probably because it was low season so they weren’t booked up. The tour guides that we did hire were all very informative, hospitable, and told us about their lives and families in Cusco as well as the ancient history. If you plan to go to Cusco, I recommend going in the low season if you don’t mind a little rain in the afternoons (it’s worth the risk of bad weather, especially if you have time to wait out a day or two of fog). I recommend waiting until your arrival to book tours and plan things as it is often much cheaper to book packages on the spot and then you can shop around and find the adventure that best suits you.
Even just the ruins of Sacsayhuaman loomed over us, massive square slabs of tightly interlocking stone and adobe. How did they manage to cut the stone so smooth? How did they manage to drag it all the way up this hill? Our tour guide told us that much of the unfinished Sacsayhuaman stone was dismantled and dragged down by 15th century Spaniards to make the churches in the centre of the city. Traces of guinea pigs, pumas, and other sacred animals were carved in the sides of the stone walls, their faintest outline still decipherable by our tour guide, and us once we were told what to look for.
Our lovely tour guide told us about his five children and his wife, who lived in the tourist-centered ‘town’ (a strong word, there was one street) of Agua Calliente, the last pit-stop on the way to Machu Picchu.
Built onto the low hillsides of the mountains surrounding Cusco were little houses, with no roads leading up to them, just steep stairs and walkways. We asked if these houses were more expensive than apartments down in the city for their seclusion and beautiful views. “Living in Cusco is the most expensive, because it’s convenient. Everything is there. Those houses on the mountain, there is no road going up there, so they are much cheaper. You have to walk with all your things and groceries and water every day.” He told us about his father, who lived between Cusco and Machu Picchu in a cabin in the jungle, with no roads to get there, and how his family decided to build a road so his father could still live there in his old age. We asked him to take us to see other ruins on the way to Machu Picchu the next day and he eagerly accepted.
Between Cusco and Machu Picchu lies the Sacred Valley of the Incas, a corridor packed with archaeological sites. For anyone interested in ancient history, if you’re travelling to Machu Picchu it’s well worth taking a week to visit every ruin along the way. Each one has it’s own history, crevices, and detailed construction.
We stopped at Pisac first, which was built by Pachacútec in the mid-15th century. The Pisac ruins lie high on the face of a mountain, extending right to the cliffside, with more stone remains further inland. Terraced half-circles, built into the side of a sloping hill, rose up in an orderly, measured progression. On the journey we learned just how advanced the Inca and pre-Inca civilizations were, with engineering, and waterways, and walkways. I wish we had taken the whole day to explore Piasc, but alas I didn’t realize there was so much to see so we only had a few hours! A good reason to go back. Our tour guide told us that in this civilization there were three rules: Don’t steal, don’t murder, and don’t be lazy. Well, I could see laziness as a crime on par with the first two in this place where there must have been so much work to do every day.
Then we went on to Ollantaytambo, a massive pre-Inca archaeological park from a civilization that was eventually conquered by the Incas. We learned more about the emperor Pachacútec. Pachacútec came from Cusco, a small empire that grew large enough to overtake the Chimu empire on the northern coast. Then, he began a conquest of neighbouring empires that took the Inca dominion from the valley of Cusco to a large part of western South America. Our tour guide told us that Pachacútec was cunning; he offered trades of knowledge and tools to nearby empires, instead of just using force. Through trades the Inca gained knowledge and power.
The stones that formed walls and stairs at Ollantaytambo were from a nearby valley, so said our guide. How did they manage to drag all these heavy stones five kilometers up the mountain? And then again, carve them so precisely into cubes and rectangular prisms that fit so perfectly together?
Within each stone, perfectly evenly spaced apart, there was a square depression cut out. “A place to put deities and offerings,” our tour guide said. “Stick your head inside, it echoes.” I stuck my head in the hole and found the stone echoed much more than I expected.
Directly opposite the ruins, on another mountain, were rocks naturally arranged so that they almost looked like a grumpy man’s face. You could see his beard, crown, and it almost looked like he was carrying a heavy sack on his back, too. This is called the Wiracocha face and apparently the pre-Inca civilization worshipped him. There was also a rainbow-flag staked at the peak of the mountain. “This isn’t the gay flag!” our guide told us earnestly. “This was the Inca flag. So here if you see this flag, it means Inca. Not gay. Not gay!”
He went on to tell us about the Spanish invasion here, and how the Inca, who had since taken over the fortress from the original civilization that built it, managed to fend them off. Again, he referred to the Spaniards as “Catholics” with an air of distaste, so I asked him if he was religious. “I am Catholic,” he said.
I was confused. He explained that spiritually, he believes in the mountains and the trees and the river, and that’s his God. But religiously, he is a Christian and goes to church. I don’t know that I fully understood what he meant but I appreciated his explanation all the same.
We trudged onwards, finally parting with our kind guide at the train station, where we boarded the train that would take us to Machu Picchu. There are no roads to the site – you have to take the train or a four-day hike to get there. Another time I would love to go back and do the four-day trek! On the train ride, there were occasionally little villages or houses where people lived without roads or easy access to much of the outside world.
Cusco lies in a transitional ecosystem, and the Andean highlands (in Spanish, sierra) quickly transform into a humid Amazon jungle (selva). From the train I watched this transition in real time. Slowly but surely the trees turned greener, shorter, and their leaves doubled in size as the train raced alongside the river. Insect sounds grew from background noise to a symphony, and bird calls became unique and less frequent.
The train dropped us off in Agua Calliente, and we enjoyed the rest of the afternoon exploring all the gift stores and eating delicious food. We went to a restaurant, and I think it was our waitress’s first day on the job because she was quite nervous. She kept going back to the kitchen and returning with a memorized statement about the food and its origins. We asked about her life, and she said she was studying hospitality and working here for a few months on a placement of some sort that would help her in her education (language barriers… my Spanish isn’t great, either! She told me in Spanish and that’s about as much as I understood).
Rambunctious kids as young as five roamed the streets unsupervised, which I found wholesome. I guess parents don’t need to worry about traffic or them getting lost when the entire town is just two streets.
The next morning, we took the bus up to Machu Picchu. We took the least strenuous way possible, and it was still quite a trek, from the train to the overnight to the bus up the mountain! You can’t explore Machu Picchu on your own, you need a guide and you have to apply for a permit to take one of three routes around the ruins (we took route C). I noticed that each step here, and the stone steps in the other archaeological ruins, was quite tall. When working with stone, I guess it’s easier to make large steps than many small steps.
Again I found myself in awe of the advanced structural engineering of these ancient civilizations. They had water channels, irrigation, gardens, and organized living chambers. All that at the top of a tall, steep mountain! I wonder how many people perished carrying stones up the mountain. Countless people (not by choice) dedicated their entire lives to the creation of Machu Picchu, and the other archaeological sites we had visited.
The breathtaking beauty of Machu Picchu is undeniable, but what really made the journey worth it for me was all the other archaeological sites we visited along the way. I felt that once we finally reached Machu Picchu I could appreciate it more because of the background history and knowledge I had gained at previous sites.
On the way back to Cusco, we sat opposite some Ontarionians on the train and shared tales of our experiences together. I ate an empanada that was quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever had.
We stopped in one more village, the village of Chinchero, known for its textile traditions and artisan cooperatives where local women spin and dye alpaca wool using ancestral, natural techniques. The women there told us which materials are used to make which colours, demonstrating how dried dead insects create a deep red dye, and then if you mix it with acid it turns to a lighter colour. Apparently, the urine of young boys is used to make a specific shade of blue! Once the wool is dyed, it is spun into yarn on a spindle and weaved into intricate designs to make clothing.
The cooperative also had a guinea pig farm (for food) and all the guinea pigs were squeaking and running around the multiple levels. They told us that the all-black guinea pigs were believed to have healing properties, so bad luck if you were a solid black guinea pig – your life might be a little shorter than that of your peers.
The sweaters made from baby alpaca were the most expensive for their cooling, wicking properties, and most of all for the incredibly soft feel. The women told us that baby alpaca clothing can be identified by its lightness and cool feeling upon touch.
Overall, on my trip to Cusco, I was most impressed by the hospitality of the locals, the exquisite food (I liked everything I ate), the beauty of the nature around us, and the mysteries within ancient history. If anyone reading this blog is considering visiting Peru or Machu Picchu, I would highly recommend it. Spend as much time as you can there! I went for less than a week and now I know one can easily spend a month there without uncovering all the mysteries.
Serena Around the World 