In 2001 we hatched a plan to visit South America, poring over guidebooks in our tent during our nights in Virginia and North Carolina. Almost six years later, we finally got around to it, and spent two weeks in Peru and Bolivia, traveling from the sacred valley, across the altiplano to Bolivia, and finally, north along the coast toward northern Peru. We started in Cusco, the Incan capital, whose temples still form the foundation of much of the old city, their impossibly precise stonework having survived earthquakes that have toppled generations of buildings since. It took four flights to get to Cusco, and when we finally arrived at Hospedaje Inka we observed the wonderful, long-standing tradition of the siesta. Jetlagged, we found it all too convenient to have a local help us find a tour company to assist in guiding us around the sacred valley.
One of the first archeological sites we visited was Pisac, a significant agricultural and religious site. The care put into the masonry is characteristic of important Incan religious buildings.
This is the view across the village of Ollantaytambo toward the granaries on the opposite peak. Again, the amount of effort that went into the construction at these sites is awe inspiring. At this site, stones, weighing upward of 50 tons, were manually moved over 6 km and shaped to unbelievable tolerances by hand then polished mirror smooth before installation. The village below has been continuously inhabitated since Incan times and was a narrow, stone pathed town. Tired from climbing the ruins, Sarah tried the coca tea to try to help alleviate an oncoming headache–needless to say it didn’t help and was her last.
After warming up with Pisac and Ollantaytambo, we were ready for Machu Picchu. Waking up at 4:30am, we hiked up the steeply sided mountain, finally getting to stretch our legs after days of travel. We quickly stripped off our raincoats and watched our bodies steam. The trail consisted of over 1,700 stone stairs, a major feat of construction in and of itself. We wanted to get there early because we read that once the train arrives in Aguas Calientes, the only way in or out of the village, the crowds start to form at Machu Picchu. With nearly 2,000 daily visitors, it’s a little like the Disney of the Andes.
Luckily, the vast majority of visitors don’t hike, so we didn’t have to share the views with anyone. This part of the sacred valley is in the cloud forest, very different from Cusco, which we thought had more in common with Flagstaff in terms of climate and ecosystem.
The main entrance to the city is simple and unassuming. The bulk of the city’s fortification came from it’s location, nearly invisible from the river valley below, and the uninterrupted view it offered to guards. 2,000 sheer feet above the river below, with a breathtaking view, it was magical.
Several of the excavated buildings have been stabilized to the point that they include thatched rooves, and seeing them in the morning, before the fog had lifted, gave us the dintinctly cinematic feeling of having walked back in time. Beautiful and surreal.
We weren’t sure whether the llamas were there to keep the grass cut or for the tourists to take photos of, but they did a fine job at both.
Enough about Machu Picchu–let’s talk about the Rio Urubamba. Dropping at about a 6-7% grade past Machu Picchu Pueblo (aka Aguas Calientes), we have never seen a river display this sort of abject ferocity. It didn’t flow, it exploded in a fluid sort of way. We spent a relaxing afternoon walking along the Rio, in awe, and sipping Cusqueña.
The bus rides to Puno and onward to Copacabana, Bolivia, were serene compared to the mad tourist rush of the sacred valley. Looking out on mountains and valleys of the altiplano reminded us that we were in Peru, and that we were on vacation.
We heard rumors that Bolivia had changed its visa requirements for Americans, but the most official information we could actually find came from the US embassy site in La Paz. However, all it said was that a change would happen on an unspecified date in March. Luckily for us, it wasn’t the day we crossed.
Lake Titicaca provided a great backdrop for the village of Copacabana. We were just hoping to relax for a few days and, as luck would have it, that’s about all there was to do. We stayed at La Cupula, a fantastic hillside hostel, where just outside were hammocks overlooking Copa and an Aymara woman herding her sheep.
The day after we arrived was a holiday, in celebration of Don Eduardo Avarda, a national hero. The local navy contingent and all the school kids held a processional through town and a ceremony by the lake. We pretended it was for my (Jeff’s) birthday. The little girl in this photo grabbed Sarah’s hand and we walked her to the parade. The kids were amazingly friendly–just the day before we made some friends with the local boys by sharing our binoculars.
The little guy on the end didn’t seem to mind that the navy band was playing the national anthem. But, nobody really seemed to notice him either.
The two days in Copa were far too short. Bolivia definitely deserves a better look, and hopefully we’ll get to soon. The view here is from a hill above town with a pre-Incan “sun dagger”-like solstice marker. The hike up taught us that even though we live at 7,000 feet, that doesn’t mean 11,000+ feet will be easy.
At the beginning of each bus trip, a salesman would get on and talk enthusiastically-and sell his goods- God, books, tea that would cure anything-until the next stop and when the bus stopped, there was a momentary frenzy of people trying to sell you cheese, soda, choclo or peanuts. The bus rides to Arequipa were relatively uneventful, if by uneventful you mean things like truck-camper ambulances driving along with the back doors wide open. In Peru they’re very fond of pungent cheeses, and this woman wanted every man, woman, and child on our bus to have a whole wheel of aromatic goodness.
The landscape changed again on the way into Arequipa. Scenes like this one quickly became more like the deserts of southern Arizona. Immediately outside Arequipa, “the white city,” were the quarries of white volcanic rock, used in the facade of older buildings, which gave the city its name. Some of the best food of the trip was had in Arequipa, where we had success in trying some Peruvian specialties- sopa de choclo (corn soup) and rocoto relleño (stuffed peppers).
In Arequipa, a highlight was the monastery. Fully cloistered for centuries, the city-within-a-city was only opened to outsiders in the last few decades. Hundreds of homes and dozens of streets lined the walled-in city block. To call it picturesque would be an understatement.
For me (Jeff), the highlight may have been visiting Chanqillo, a site near Casma, north of Lima. Though the site’s always been known to locals, researchers have recently discovered that it may be the oldest astronomical observatory/calendar in the Americas. Despite that, lack of funds have left the site barren. When we visited there was no active excavation, research, interpretation, or protection. Many thanks to Renato, our guide, for allowing us to visit. We never would have found the place without him.
Some random memories and highlights that we noted in our journal: grazing alpaca, terracing everywhere, our first glimpse of Machu Picchu through the fog, a sign for the trade association of guinea pigs (a Peruvian delicacy), forgetting what was going on at work, walking on the roof of our hospedaje and being shown the cracks from the 2001 earthquake below our feet, the electric wiring, cute stray dogs, paying to use public bathrooms (and getting a ticket and piece of TP), dubbed American movies, supercute little Daewoo vans, and giant sand dunes.
Hands down, the best parts about Peru and Bolivia, though, were the people. Welcoming, giving, and hospitable to no end, they really made it an amazing and memorable trip. Our Spanish may not have gotten much better in our two weeks, but we tried, and wishing we could have conversed with people just a little more deeply made us want to study more now that we’re home. And, of course, the best part of the trip was coming home.
