It may have been the year that I “lost” my car, my job, and my heart, but I found myself.
Once hidden in the Peruvian Andes, it rises majestically and magically up into the clouds. When the mist clears, I can see the top, and then, just then, I remember that some places on earth are truly sacred. Machu Picchu is such a place.
It was the year I lost my car (It was stolen.); I lost my job. (I was laid off.); and, I lost my heart. (That’s another story.).
Unemployed and itching to travel, I call my brother.
“Although I probably shouldn’t spend the money, I’m going to Peru, Spain, or Mexico. Interested?”
“Really? Sure! I’ll go anywhere!”
I keep a list of “Things To Do Before I Die.” All three countries are on the list. So is a separate item for Machu Picchu, the ancient Inca sanctuary in the mountains of Peru. As a kid, I used to go to the library and pore over National Geographic articles about Peru and the Inca people.
In the 13th century, the Inca declared the city of Cusco as their capital. Around 1450, they built Machu Picchu, about 70 miles from Cusco. In the 1500s, not long after the Spanish conquistadors arrived, the Inca people abandoned Machu Picchu. Because of its remote location, it wasn’t until the early 20th century that an American historian and explorer, Hiram Bingham, found the “lost city” at Machu Picchu.
After telling my brother this history, it takes little effort to convince him that he, too, must see Machu Picchu and Cusco. I tell him we’ll also spend time in Lima, the capital of Peru.
Last year, I happened to meet some wonderful people from Lima at an airport in Spain. Due to flight delays, we had a lot of time to talk. During our conversation, we exchanged contact information and invitations. Since then, we’ve been corresponding by email and letters.
After the chat with my brother, I call my Peruvian friends, and tell me about wanting to visit their country. Immediately, the invitation to visit them becomes reality.
Within five days, we book our tickets to Lima, Peru!
The first few days in Lima, we spend time with my friends exploring the sites of and learning about Peruvian culture. On one of those days, with Cusco and getting to Machu Picchu in our heads, we go to a travel agency and book plane tickets for the very next day.
The night before we leave Lima, our friends take us to a party where we meet the Peruvian Ambassador to Bolivia who is a friend of theirs. As we talk excitedly about our trip to Cusco, he has some advice.
“There’s a huge difference from sea level Lima to sky high Cusco at 11,000 feet. You must be careful not to get altitude sickness. It can be very dangerous for some people.”
I had altitude sickness once in the Rockies, and it was awful! Headache, nausea, body aches. For two days, I stayed in bed sleeping and drinking water. After that experience, I’m open to anything he suggests.
“You must go to a pharmacy tonight and get Coramina lozenges. Then, as your plane begins to land in Cuzco, start sucking the lozenges. Also, once you arrive in the airport, begin drinking the Mate (MA-tay) tea. And, continue to have the tea during your visit. This will help you adjust to being there.”
On the way back to his house late that night, our Lima friend stops at a pharmacy where he buys the lozenges for us. I have to admit, we’re somewhat skeptical that a lozenge prevents altitude sickness. Yet, I think that a friend of a friend who lives in La Paz must know something about it. . .
The next morning, we barely get inside the airport checkin area, when we are ambushed and bombarded by a lot of local people.
“¡Aquí! ¡Aquí! ¡Tengo el mejor precios!” (Here! Here! I have the best prices!)
¡Quédese aquí! Es un buen hotel para tí.” (Stay here. It’s a good hotel for you.)
The place is jammed with tour-operators, hawking various packages to passengers. Each seller is wearing a state-sanctioned badge. Meanwhile, armed Peruvian police are strolling around, keeping a watchful eye on the transactions.
I look at my brother. “Hey, we haven’t booked anything in Cusco yet. Let’s see what they offer.”
“Do you think it’s legit?” He questions looking at the scene.
Shrugging my shoulders, I hesitate and say, “Probably?”
“OK. . . This should be interesting.”
After chatting with several different tour hawkers, we settle on one. As “Herbert” (air BAIRT, with rolling “rs”) talks about the different prices for hotels, trains, and tours, we have no idea if we are being ripped off, but we get a good feeling about him. So, on the spur of the moment, we plan and book our Cusco hotel and excursion to see the Incan holy places, planned through a guide we’d never met before.
That’s how carefree and adventurous we’re feeling in a foreign land, on our way to see an ancient site on a mountain.
Finally, we board our plane for the flight. Less than two hours later as we are nearing Cusco, I hand one of the small foil-wrapped lozenges to my brother. We tear open the foil. The lozenges a weird bright green color.
“We don’t really know what these are. Should we really take them?” He asks.
“Let’s trust the ambassador,” I say with a smile.
Now, believing in their power to ward off altitude sickness, we both start sucking the lozenges like crazy.
In the Cusco airport, beautiful petite Inca women in their full traditional dress and iconic hats approach us with little cups of “Mate” tea made from coca leaves. That’s right. The same plant used for cocaine, but the tea has very little potency when it comes to getting high. It’s actually soothing and relaxing. The color is a dark golden brown, and the taste reminds me of earthy plants that are healthy for you.
Because of the dramatic altitude change, we wait several days to adjust before making the trek to Machu Picchu. We take it easy by exploring this beautiful place and drinking plenty of liquids, including Mate tea now also recommended by all of the locals to prevent signs of any illness. We explore Cusco’s sites and shops on foot. Even though we’re both in good shape, walking uphill winds us. BUT, we do not get altitude sickness!
We also learn that the Inca who live in the mountains have adapted over centuries to the thin air. Within their small body structure are larger-than-normal lungs and a greater ability to pull in oxygen. Also, because of exposure to more UV rays at higher altitudes, their skin has adapted and darkened.
The day of our trip to Machu Picchu, we have to be at the train station early. The station is just a small, white-washed concrete building. Outside the station are only a few tracks. Inside is a simple, open area with a few simple wooden benches, and a counter to buy tickets. Spartan but clean. Even the restrooms, which are much cleaner than any you’d find in a train station in the States. The group of people milling around are all going to Machu Picchu on one train or another. Some gather in small groups, and various languages rise up into the air. Spanish, English, German, Chinese, Japanese.
While talking with one of the other tourists, we learn the trains were delayed for several hours yesterday. Why?Apparently, a huge mud avalanche completely covered a portion of the tracks and prevented trains (even those already en route!) from continuing on until it was cleared. So far, our train is scheduled to leave on time.
Several trains make the almost four-hour trek to Machu Picchu daily, and each charges differently according to the amenities offered. As part of our tour package, we sprang for the best. But, as the train pulls into the station, it doesn’t look special. In fact, the cars are old and worn and in need of repainting. Yet, in our coach we discover linen-topped tables with flowers, place settings, and beautifully-printed menus.
Once the train leaves the station, it travels first through small farmlands, periodically slowing down. We pass herds of cows, people working in fields, and small children, who wave madly. We make two stops. Once at another station and once in the middle of nowhere.
Both times, women and children assault the outside of the train with handmade wares for sale. Dolls, hats, weavings, all types of Incan souvenirs are held up to the windows as they walk up and down alongside the cars, ready to bargain at any sign of interest. At the second stop, there’s no village, no homes, no roads. I’m puzzled by the sight. Where do these women come from and how do they get here? Do they have an agreement with the train company? It’s strange, because I don’t know if anyone actually made a sale during either stop.
Breakfast arrives. Although I’d only been expecting coffee and a roll, white-coated servers bring us plenty of juice, rolls, fruit, and meat. It’s all first-class service as we travel through the countryside.
Eventually, we enter more rugged terrain, where the sides of huge rock-encrusted mountains are almost in reach from our windows. Abundant lush, green plant life grows alongside the tracks. Again, I wonder, “Do people live here?”
At two different points, the train has to do a switchback because of the surrounding mountains. It slows down and reverses on one track and then moves slowly onto a second track, picks up speed and continues on its way.
As we near Machu Picchu, we travel next to a raging, white-water rafter’s dream. The Urubamba River. Just the name conjures up images of something powerful. Small trees scratch and brush the windows, and the sight and the sound only add to our anticipation of what lies ahead.
Soon, the train gradually slows down as we enter the village of Aguas Calientes. Even though Machu Picchu lies ahead, I’m a bit sad to see this part of the journey come to end.
In the village, only one narrow road goes to the top of the mountain where the site is. Busses loaded with tourists travel up and down the road constantly. With tickets in hand, we walk to the small bus platform for the final leg of the trip.
My brother is studying the road.
“Hey, there are no guard rails! You can sit next to the window,” he says, grinning.
All the way to the top, the steep road is a series of switchbacks winding to the top. On the one side, the bus is hugging the mountain. On the other side, the scary side, it drops off dramatically. Plenty of crosses mark spots where someone sure could have used a guard rail. Having been on roads like this in other countries, I’m not too alarmed, knowing that the bus driver also does not want to die. But, my brother is a little concerned.
For the most part, the road is in fairly decent shape. Since it has been raining, the bus driver tries to avoid numerous potholes making the 30-minute trip even more exciting as we jog around them. Thrilling views of green, tree-covered mountains with jutting rock formations surround us, and below we have vistas of the Urubamba river valley.
Once we arrive, we meet our licensed guide, Darwin, a descendant of the Inca. It’s cool, cloudy, and misty as he leads us up the mountain trail and into the actual site where we see the remains of residences, terraced-gardens, religious spaces. At each stop, we wander around while he explains how the Inca lived, worked, and worshipped.
Looking at the structures and their carefully laid stones, it’s hard to imagine that everything was carried from the surrounding area and then built by hand with a specific purpose for Incan life. I conjure up images of the Inca people going about their day centuries ago. Working in gardens. Harvesting crops. Preparing meals. Building new structures. Repairing old ones. On hilltops, I can see priests dressed in white, determining the seasons and overseeing the entire site. It’s mind-boggling that an entire society grew and thrived for several centuries in this very remote place and then vanished.
What does someone say about Machu Picchu? Breathtaking. Spectacular. Awe-inspiring. Magnificent. It is all of these. It is as I imagined. A sacred place built by ancient civilization on the top of a mountain.
Although I may have “lost”my car, my job, and my heart, I found myself this year.
One day is not enough. To do Machu Picchu right, you should really spend the night in Aguas Calientes, which does have accommodations and restaurants.
(Except as noted, all photos are mine.)
Oh, Sheri, you transported me there! I'm not sure I'd be brave enough to get my travel arrangements as you did, but it sounds like it made for the perfect experience!
Lovely to read… I was transported there!