Lima, Peru. More smog and another overpriced taxi ride from hell. Welcome bruised and battered travellers. From sea level Lima we fly to the tourist hotspot of Cusco.
Lots of Americans here. And why can't I breath all of a sudden? Now I think I know what asthma feels like. Then the hassling begins. Taxi sir? Taxi? In my face. Taxi? Act like you know where you're going Anthony. Damn it, pull it together. Guts are churning again. What the hell was that gruel I ate for dinner last night? Where is the toilet? What's the word for bathroom in Spanish again? Why is my bag so heavy? Some dodgy baggage handler in Lima has probably thrown twenty kilos of cocaine in it. Why is that guy over there looking at me funny. It's gotta be him, the drug dealer. There's a gun under that summery Hawaiian shirt no doubt. I think I need a drink. Man my stomach is really churning. And why oh why is it so damn hard to breath?
I wipe the sweat off my face with a forearm. And there it is. A sign, glossy and bold, right there above the Hawaiian shirt gangster looking bloke. Welcome to Cusco, 3400 metres above sea level.
I'd heard about altitude sickness. Thought that's no problem. I'm young. I'm fit. Well, I'll tell you what, Lance Armstrong would struggle to breathe on arrival in Cusco, with or without drugs.
Cusco is bare hills and old stone buildings and too-thin cobblestone streets. Hawkers trying to sell anything and everything.
One guy slowed his car to a crawl beside our American friends as they were walking toward the town square. "Do you weed?" he asked. 'You weed?"
"Well I weed my garden once a year or so. Why are you stopping to ask me that?"
"Do you weed man?"
"Ohhhh you mean do I smoke!"
Drugs anyone? Water? Alpaca wool beanie? Sex? Drugs? Fake Alpaca wool beanie? Dinner? Drugs? Toilet paper?
We booked a hostel on top of a hill above the Plaza de Armas. Piece of advice, never book a hostel on top of a hill in Cusco. The walk home every night is a polite introduction to hiking in Peru: a short-of-breath sweat-fest. To ease the pain, upon check-in we received a complimentary coca tea. It tasted pretty good and was soothing. However, I later discovered it had disastrous effects on my digestive system. Yeah I'd heard it was a digestive, I don't even know what that really means, kind of thought it must be like a bowl of yogurt, full of pro-biotics, or maybe similar to having some prunes at breakfast. Nothing of the sort. One cup of coca tea, for me, was something akin to eating four cans of baked beans... DISASTROUS.
After three days acclimatising and eating Alpacas and Guinea Pigs in Cusco we set off on the five day Salkantay trek to Machu Picchu. Salkantay was a worthy alternative to the Inca trail. Numerous different landscapes. Fascinating Inca history. Breathtaking scenery and a physically challenging achievement.
The thing I will always remember from the walk was the way it brought 20 or so tourists together under the direction of two of the finest tour guides you will ever meet. On day one they were talking about the fact that we were family. Yeah yeah. Get on with it. But by the end of the five days we did actually all feel like family. They brought us together. Jimmy and Mike. Mike and Jimmy. Jimmy: polite and reserved and thoughtful. Mike: loud and joking and boisterous.
Magic Mike (we don't think he was a striper, but maybe he lived a secret life, who knows, eat your heart out Channing Tatum) was the most energetic and inspiring tour guide I've ever met. In fact, after the first day he was no longer a guide but a friend. "Hola Papi-eeeeeee", was Mike's catchphrase, which I translated as some sort of fervent "g'day mate".*
Day one. We piled onto the back of a truck. Picked up a hitchhiking local or two. Then we walked until we came to the foothills of Salkantay, it's glacier shimmering throughout the evening.
On day two the crack-of-dawn walk to the highest point of the trek was tough. All the training walking up the hill to our hostel helped our cause.
Day three and four are a blur of rain, muddy tracks, mule turd, ponchos, clear blue sky, soccer finals on fuzzy CRT screens in backyard bars, refreshing beers, luxurious hot springs, bumpy early morning bus rides, ridges and cliffs, vast valleys and rivers and the best food we ate all trip, cooked by professional chefs on outdoor camp stoves... Adventure.
On day five we woke at 4.30am to beat the Machu Picchu crowds. Good luck with that. I don't think it matters how early you wake, there will always be crowds. At 6am after 30 switchbacks in a packed-to-the-rafters bus we waited in line to enter the park. Upon entering I soon realised I needed to try appreciate this wonder without getting too agitated by all the other tourists.
The stereotypical Macchu Picchu tourist is slightly overweight, huffing and puffing up and down the countless stairs. Beads of sweet roll down his pale sunscreen smothered forehead. White khaki shorts, a black bum bag and an oversized camera around his neck. He is on a crazed search, a race for the postcard view, pushing and shoving for the sight he's seen a million times before on TV and in magazines and on glossy tourist brochures.
You know what? Despite the lines, the stairs, the shortness of breath, the sweat and even the oversized-camera-bum-bag tourists. It's all worth it. It is an unimaginable stone city on the crest of a mountain surrounded by even bigger mountains. The lush green forest, the beginnings of the Amazon, grows over the majestic Inca terraces, reclaiming them to the bush. It's an unforgettable sight. And if you get the chance to climb Huayna Picchu you will see the whole crazy business from above. In a word: spectacular. Hola Papi - eeeeeeeeeee!
*Update 2017: Magic Mike, aka Papi, has now started his own trekking company. I can't recommend Mike enough. The best guide I have had anywhere in the world. His passion and enthusiasm for his homeland is evident in all he does.
If you're heading to Peru, look him up:
https://www.facebook.com/papistreks/
Lots of Americans here. And why can't I breath all of a sudden? Now I think I know what asthma feels like. Then the hassling begins. Taxi sir? Taxi? In my face. Taxi? Act like you know where you're going Anthony. Damn it, pull it together. Guts are churning again. What the hell was that gruel I ate for dinner last night? Where is the toilet? What's the word for bathroom in Spanish again? Why is my bag so heavy? Some dodgy baggage handler in Lima has probably thrown twenty kilos of cocaine in it. Why is that guy over there looking at me funny. It's gotta be him, the drug dealer. There's a gun under that summery Hawaiian shirt no doubt. I think I need a drink. Man my stomach is really churning. And why oh why is it so damn hard to breath?
I wipe the sweat off my face with a forearm. And there it is. A sign, glossy and bold, right there above the Hawaiian shirt gangster looking bloke. Welcome to Cusco, 3400 metres above sea level.
I'd heard about altitude sickness. Thought that's no problem. I'm young. I'm fit. Well, I'll tell you what, Lance Armstrong would struggle to breathe on arrival in Cusco, with or without drugs.
 |
| Cusco's Plaza de Armas |
Cusco is bare hills and old stone buildings and too-thin cobblestone streets. Hawkers trying to sell anything and everything.
One guy slowed his car to a crawl beside our American friends as they were walking toward the town square. "Do you weed?" he asked. 'You weed?"
"Well I weed my garden once a year or so. Why are you stopping to ask me that?"
"Do you weed man?"
"Ohhhh you mean do I smoke!"
Drugs anyone? Water? Alpaca wool beanie? Sex? Drugs? Fake Alpaca wool beanie? Dinner? Drugs? Toilet paper?
We booked a hostel on top of a hill above the Plaza de Armas. Piece of advice, never book a hostel on top of a hill in Cusco. The walk home every night is a polite introduction to hiking in Peru: a short-of-breath sweat-fest. To ease the pain, upon check-in we received a complimentary coca tea. It tasted pretty good and was soothing. However, I later discovered it had disastrous effects on my digestive system. Yeah I'd heard it was a digestive, I don't even know what that really means, kind of thought it must be like a bowl of yogurt, full of pro-biotics, or maybe similar to having some prunes at breakfast. Nothing of the sort. One cup of coca tea, for me, was something akin to eating four cans of baked beans... DISASTROUS.
After three days acclimatising and eating Alpacas and Guinea Pigs in Cusco we set off on the five day Salkantay trek to Machu Picchu. Salkantay was a worthy alternative to the Inca trail. Numerous different landscapes. Fascinating Inca history. Breathtaking scenery and a physically challenging achievement.
 |
| Our trek family, climbing to Salkantay on day two |
The thing I will always remember from the walk was the way it brought 20 or so tourists together under the direction of two of the finest tour guides you will ever meet. On day one they were talking about the fact that we were family. Yeah yeah. Get on with it. But by the end of the five days we did actually all feel like family. They brought us together. Jimmy and Mike. Mike and Jimmy. Jimmy: polite and reserved and thoughtful. Mike: loud and joking and boisterous.
 |
| An impromptu morning tea stop soccer game with Jimmy and Mike |
Magic Mike (we don't think he was a striper, but maybe he lived a secret life, who knows, eat your heart out Channing Tatum) was the most energetic and inspiring tour guide I've ever met. In fact, after the first day he was no longer a guide but a friend. "Hola Papi-eeeeeee", was Mike's catchphrase, which I translated as some sort of fervent "g'day mate".*
 |
| One of many peaks along the trail |
There are countless trekking companies and countless trek options in Cusco. We ended up going with SAS Travel. Mixed reports regarding these guys and the payment process did seem a little dubious, like we were buying drugs rather than paying for a tour. But the dates suited and the price seemed fair.
Day one. We piled onto the back of a truck. Picked up a hitchhiking local or two. Then we walked until we came to the foothills of Salkantay, it's glacier shimmering throughout the evening.
 |
| Trekking toward the Salkantay glacier |
Day three and four are a blur of rain, muddy tracks, mule turd, ponchos, clear blue sky, soccer finals on fuzzy CRT screens in backyard bars, refreshing beers, luxurious hot springs, bumpy early morning bus rides, ridges and cliffs, vast valleys and rivers and the best food we ate all trip, cooked by professional chefs on outdoor camp stoves... Adventure.
 |
| Descending toward Machu Picchu. The small peak in the distance in the centre of the valley is Huayna Picchu. |
On day five we woke at 4.30am to beat the Machu Picchu crowds. Good luck with that. I don't think it matters how early you wake, there will always be crowds. At 6am after 30 switchbacks in a packed-to-the-rafters bus we waited in line to enter the park. Upon entering I soon realised I needed to try appreciate this wonder without getting too agitated by all the other tourists.
The stereotypical Macchu Picchu tourist is slightly overweight, huffing and puffing up and down the countless stairs. Beads of sweet roll down his pale sunscreen smothered forehead. White khaki shorts, a black bum bag and an oversized camera around his neck. He is on a crazed search, a race for the postcard view, pushing and shoving for the sight he's seen a million times before on TV and in magazines and on glossy tourist brochures.
.jpg) |
| The Machu Picchu postcard shot |
You know what? Despite the lines, the stairs, the shortness of breath, the sweat and even the oversized-camera-bum-bag tourists. It's all worth it. It is an unimaginable stone city on the crest of a mountain surrounded by even bigger mountains. The lush green forest, the beginnings of the Amazon, grows over the majestic Inca terraces, reclaiming them to the bush. It's an unforgettable sight. And if you get the chance to climb Huayna Picchu you will see the whole crazy business from above. In a word: spectacular. Hola Papi - eeeeeeeeeee!
*Update 2017: Magic Mike, aka Papi, has now started his own trekking company. I can't recommend Mike enough. The best guide I have had anywhere in the world. His passion and enthusiasm for his homeland is evident in all he does.
If you're heading to Peru, look him up:
https://www.facebook.com/papistreks/
Comments
Post a Comment