At one point (probably many, but I remember this one in particular), the train came to a halt, and there were some indigenous girls, probably eight or ten years old, playing right outside the train on an ancient piece of farming machinery. Some Portuguese guys, quite verbal (and obnoxious) in their own right, yelled out the window at them in broken Spanish, and took several pictures. The girls smiled shyly and continued playing.
This bothered me. It was as if, to these guys, the girls were part of the scenery, another element of the exotic, another Incan wall to document for their travel blog. I could just see these blowhards flying back into Lisbon the next week and showing this picture to their privileged, elite friends and saying, "See, we saw it all in Peru: the mountains, the jungle, AND real, live, off-the-grid, poor Indians."
But I tried to withhold judgment; I didn't need that negative energy. We were almost to Aguas Calientes.
**********
AGUAS CALIENTES WAS KNOWN for most of its inauspicious life for its thermal springs, hence the name (literally, "hot waters" in English). Even after the railroad arrived in 1901 and Machu Picchu was rediscovered by the American archaeologist Hiram Bingham in 1911, Aguas Calientes lived most of its existence as just another Andean village in the state of Cusco. As Machu Picchu gradually became known first throughout the region, then the country, then the continent, travelers sought it out; but for several decades the only way of arriving was the so-called "Inca Trail", a five-day trek from Cusco down into the fertile valley, then back up to the ruins.
All that changed when the Peruvian government, finally realizing what a cash cow they had on their hands, established the railway from Cusco down to Aguas Calientes, and roads capable of hosting buses and vans were built back up the mountains to the ruins. Now it was possible for a traveler to leave Cusco in the morning, see the ruins, and be back in Cusco by bedtime. Machu Picchu, and along with it, Aguas Calientes, flourished. The site became known around the world, to the point where, on June 28, 2007, visitors were encouraged to vote via computer that Machu Picchu be named one of the redefined "Seven Wonders of the World". (It was, and that day, early in July, is celebrated annually in Cusco).
We got out of the train around 10:00 and gaped. Aguas Calientes is probably only a town of 10,000 or so, but every morning and afternoon, especially during the peak tourist season, which we were in, it swells to double or triple its size as the trains arrive. Bright traditional Incan clothing and artifacts were all around us. As we turned the corner from the train station, we entered a huge tourist bazaar, probably half a football field in size. Cody and I scrambled down our mental checklist of people we needed to buy stuff for as we roamed the market.
"What time do we have to get the bus?" Adam asked.
"11:00."
"Where at?"
"Shit, I don't know," I told him. "We'll just have to follow the people."
We did, and eventually came upon a row of buses with letters and numbers. We found S21, but it was already full. Fortunately, they found room for us on another bus.
When I say "bus" it's not a bus as we imagine them. It is more like a huge van, with room for maybe 20 or 25 people to sit. Our tour group was almost entirely composed of Americans and Europeans. At the head of our bus was our tour guide. I don't remember his name, so I'll call him "Felix". Felix spoke to us in English, his third language; Spanish was his second language. He had spent the first years of his life speaking Quechua, one of the languages of the Incas, and still spoke it at home with his family.
We grew warm, then hot as we waited for the bus to depart. Finally it did, creeping slowly up the gravel roads that hug the steep Andean mountainside. Lush vegetation surrounded us; had we not been so high up in the air (well over a mile), we would have been in a tropical rain forest. As we ascended, I tried not to look down even as I craned my neck to get a first peek at the famous ruins. But the Peruvian government was smart. Aided by their ancient Incan predecessors, Machu Picchu was situated in such a way that despite its size, despite its majesty, you can't see it until you are literally on top of it. (Perhaps that is how it lay dormant for more than three centuries, unknown even to its closest neighbors).
The bus ride probably took around 30 minutes. When we got off the bus, we were admonished. No food in Machu Picchu. No drinks except water. No bathrooms. Once you're in, you're in; if you leave you stay out, no re-entry. Everyone took a few minutes to use the restroom, and then we filed through the gates.
"The first stop," Felix told us, "is the overlook. We will have to climb this hill to get to it."
"How much of a climb?" someone asked.
"Well, that depends," Felix responded. "Inca style or Peruvian style?"
The crowd laughed. "Inca style," the man responded.
"5 minutes," Felix told him.
"And Peruvian style?" someone else asked.
"Oh, 25 minutes probably," Felix said, and we all laughed again.
We started to climb. It didn't take me 25 minutes, but it certainly took me more than five. As I made each turn, I grew more and more excited. What would Machu Picchu look like?
To be continued...
**********
AGUAS CALIENTES WAS KNOWN for most of its inauspicious life for its thermal springs, hence the name (literally, "hot waters" in English). Even after the railroad arrived in 1901 and Machu Picchu was rediscovered by the American archaeologist Hiram Bingham in 1911, Aguas Calientes lived most of its existence as just another Andean village in the state of Cusco. As Machu Picchu gradually became known first throughout the region, then the country, then the continent, travelers sought it out; but for several decades the only way of arriving was the so-called "Inca Trail", a five-day trek from Cusco down into the fertile valley, then back up to the ruins.
All that changed when the Peruvian government, finally realizing what a cash cow they had on their hands, established the railway from Cusco down to Aguas Calientes, and roads capable of hosting buses and vans were built back up the mountains to the ruins. Now it was possible for a traveler to leave Cusco in the morning, see the ruins, and be back in Cusco by bedtime. Machu Picchu, and along with it, Aguas Calientes, flourished. The site became known around the world, to the point where, on June 28, 2007, visitors were encouraged to vote via computer that Machu Picchu be named one of the redefined "Seven Wonders of the World". (It was, and that day, early in July, is celebrated annually in Cusco).
We got out of the train around 10:00 and gaped. Aguas Calientes is probably only a town of 10,000 or so, but every morning and afternoon, especially during the peak tourist season, which we were in, it swells to double or triple its size as the trains arrive. Bright traditional Incan clothing and artifacts were all around us. As we turned the corner from the train station, we entered a huge tourist bazaar, probably half a football field in size. Cody and I scrambled down our mental checklist of people we needed to buy stuff for as we roamed the market.
"What time do we have to get the bus?" Adam asked.
"11:00."
"Where at?"
"Shit, I don't know," I told him. "We'll just have to follow the people."
We did, and eventually came upon a row of buses with letters and numbers. We found S21, but it was already full. Fortunately, they found room for us on another bus.
When I say "bus" it's not a bus as we imagine them. It is more like a huge van, with room for maybe 20 or 25 people to sit. Our tour group was almost entirely composed of Americans and Europeans. At the head of our bus was our tour guide. I don't remember his name, so I'll call him "Felix". Felix spoke to us in English, his third language; Spanish was his second language. He had spent the first years of his life speaking Quechua, one of the languages of the Incas, and still spoke it at home with his family.
We grew warm, then hot as we waited for the bus to depart. Finally it did, creeping slowly up the gravel roads that hug the steep Andean mountainside. Lush vegetation surrounded us; had we not been so high up in the air (well over a mile), we would have been in a tropical rain forest. As we ascended, I tried not to look down even as I craned my neck to get a first peek at the famous ruins. But the Peruvian government was smart. Aided by their ancient Incan predecessors, Machu Picchu was situated in such a way that despite its size, despite its majesty, you can't see it until you are literally on top of it. (Perhaps that is how it lay dormant for more than three centuries, unknown even to its closest neighbors).
The bus ride probably took around 30 minutes. When we got off the bus, we were admonished. No food in Machu Picchu. No drinks except water. No bathrooms. Once you're in, you're in; if you leave you stay out, no re-entry. Everyone took a few minutes to use the restroom, and then we filed through the gates.
"The first stop," Felix told us, "is the overlook. We will have to climb this hill to get to it."
"How much of a climb?" someone asked.
"Well, that depends," Felix responded. "Inca style or Peruvian style?"
The crowd laughed. "Inca style," the man responded.
"5 minutes," Felix told him.
"And Peruvian style?" someone else asked.
"Oh, 25 minutes probably," Felix said, and we all laughed again.
We started to climb. It didn't take me 25 minutes, but it certainly took me more than five. As I made each turn, I grew more and more excited. What would Machu Picchu look like?
To be continued...
No comments:
Post a Comment