The Machu Picchu Trip

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Growing up, I was fascinated by the Mayans after doing a report on them. When I told everyone that I was going to Peru, many of those that knew about my interest congratulated me on being able to fulfill a childhood dream.
Besides that fact that comparing Incas to Mayans is like comparing Vikings to Romans (they both lived in Europe, didn't they?), I'm not sure if I ever dreamed of going to Machu Picchu as a child . . . I was, however, more then interested in going.

It's a long road to Machu Picchu from Cusco. As mentioned in a previous post we needed to head to
Ollantayambo before we could proceed further. With the choice between two buses for 5 Soles, or to split a taxi the entire way at 10 Soles each, we went for the later. We soon found a driver that agreed to take us to our desired destination if we could find a fourth person. We looked around a minute and found an older Peruvian man who wanted to go three quarters of the way to Urubamba. We were on the road!
When the driver let the older man off, however, he decided that he wanted an additional 10 Soles on the grounds that it was late at night (it was after 10). No go Buddy -we had agreed on a price . . . So he dropped to 5 Soles. We still refused to be taken advantage of -even if it was for an extra $1.50.
At that point the negotiations stalled. After two or three minutes of silence, he finally continued down the road. We had won . . . or so we thought, for he only drove half a block down the road, at which point he called over a large crowd of Peruvians.
Opening the front door (we were in the back) and the trunk, he motioned for them to all climb in. He had added an additional six people and a baby to his four passenger station wagon . . . to make matters more interesting, the four locals in the back (including the lady with the baby) all seemed to be drunk on Chicha -cheap corn alcohol.

Through our combined limited knowledge of a mutual language - bits of Spanish, English, and hand signals - we were able to establish what I have later dubbed:

The Ten Commandments of Traveling with Peruvians . . .

1. They were indeed drunk on Chicha.
2. We could have some if we so disired.
   
3. We really ought to try it.
4. Peru was a good country . . .
5. and it was good that we thought it was good.
6. The president was bad . . .
7. Very bad.
8. Something or other that they said in Quechua and we were thus unable to understand was a big problem.
9. It was apparently funny that we didn't understand any Quechua
10. The guy sitting behind me was named Walter.      

All of these ten commandments were repeated several times . . . untill we made it to Ollantaytambo.

We payed our driver and got out.

Ollantaytambo is a very interesting town -unlike Cosco which is mainly built in the colonial style, many of the buildings we built out of the original Inca stone, surrounded by walls and with a small stream running through it, we found the place enchanting at night. I also liked the stray dogs there, my friends in travel, however, did not. (While I am more then understand why Lubavitchers don't own dogs, and plan to do so myself, I often find it rather annoying that so many bochurim are afraid of things . . . it's almost ridicules to see adults panic in front of a poodle) 

Finding a decent place in for the night (The Andean Moon) at the "student" rate of 8 USD per person, we settled down for the next five hours.



Arriving at the train station, we borded our 5:45 train to Aguas Calientes.

There are two types of people who travel on vacations:
Tourists and Backpackers.
I like Backpackers, even though they are often dirty, I loath Tourists.

You see, backpackers are interesting people. They travel the world on a shoe string budget, and thus must be practical. Tourists not only are not practical, they can't - it's against their very nature. Backpackers will walk up a mountain, tourists we take a bus up to the top -and complain that the ride was bumpy, and too long, and that they ought to use something more practical . . . like a cable car.
Back packers wear hiking boots, tourists wear fanny packs, their passports on lanyards around their necks and large Safari hats with a picture of Machu Picchu printed on them. Backpackers take pictures of the ruins with DSLRs, tourists will only take pictures of themselves in front of the ruins . . . with their cellphone cameras. Backpackers try to learn about the local culture and language, tourists only speak in English, loudly and then wonder why nobody is smart enough to speak English like them.  
I could go on . . . Thankfully Tourists get up at 8:30 in the morning for the Continental Breakfast, and our train was at a quarter to six.

In which I learn that Los Angeles is much like Afghanistan -only shorter:



As we rode, I looked out at the Urubamba river winding it's way through the dry brush and yucca covered mountains. It reminded me of Los Angeles . . . only with bigger mountains.

Behind me sat a British man that spoke sounded like Howard Carter (skip to the 1:33 mark to hear him speak) or some other well traveled explorer who had seen all corners of the glorious British Empire, but would give nothing more then to be back in the Shire sitting around a fire with a good cup of tea and some crumpets.
He spoke about his travels to a group of enthralled Czech students as one would describe a trip to the corner store to a child.
  " . . . Indonesia was nice -a pleasant group of chaps they are, and the language wasn't to hard to learn either. Afghanistan was different -noble people they have there; very proud. I used to go with them into the mountains . . . much like the very ones outside the train now -really one of the most remarkable places that I ever lived in. Keep in mind now, that it was over 30 years ago . . . It's a good deal different now! You fellows are from Prague, Now aren't you? I do say it's a nice place -bloody good beer and a stellar football team to boot!"

And here I was thinking about the Hollywood hills . . .

We shortly arrived in Machu Picchu.



Taking the 7 USD bus, we wound our way slowly up the hill. At the top, after passing the Machu Picchu hotel (run by the Orient express, it goes at something like 715 USD a night), one goes through the entrance gates . . .



. . . and is greated by Machu Picchu's ruins.



There's something about famous land marks that loom in the sky, the Eiffel Tower, the Colosseum in Rome, and Huanyu Picchu - the famed mountain that sits behind the ruins  -one seeks to photograph them from multiple vantage points, the item of desire slowly dwarfing all as one grows closer.

To go to the top of Huanyu Picchu, one most get there early . . . as they only let up 400 people a day, with the doors closing for entrance after 10 pm.

We ran to get there . . .









 . . . and even though my friends were worried that I had gotten them lost, we made it there.




The hike up is arduous -it takes close to an hour, and the stairs are steep . . . but getting to the top was amazing.





Tefillin on the way






Notice the road leading to Machu Picchu winding up  the hill



The summit of the mountain is nothing more then a few sparse stones, jutting up towards the sky . . . There was a sense of camaraderie between those who had made it to the top - though the climb is one attainable by most healthy people, the type of trip and personality involved was one that attracted the more adventurous -i.e. no tourists. 

There was an American named Kip who save sup money from working every year in NY to go abroad, two friends from Oregon on a bird watching trip, two Colombian ladies who work in Washington DC as experts on Latin American, and a whole group of Slovakians












With a Slovakian guy






































































As we left, we figured it would be worth walking down (what Jew will do to save 7 bucks). . .




. . . unfortunately it started to rain as we made the 4 Km trek.













On to the city . . .


















and then back to Cusco. Unfortunately there had not been any return tickets in Backpacker's class (that's its real name!) so we returned in Tourist class (not the real name) . . . where we saw a kitschy native dance and an Alpaca fashion show.
*Sigh*



 Tourists.Technorati Tags: Machu Picchu, Peru, Travel, Tourists, Backpackers, Humor, Mivtzoyim, Photography