Week 15: Machu Picchu

So in hindsight, I should have done the trek. Even if I didnt't do "The" Inca Trail. Getting the train ended up costing the same as doing a 4 day trek. Gutted. However I am already planning my return to Peru, as I haven't seen the Nazca Lines, done the Inca Trail, or visited Manu national park, where some of the richest wildlife in the world is. So at least I will know for next time.

The misty sacred valley in the morning

All, the same, it was pretty impressive. The most ironic thing, in my opinion, is the name. Machu Picchu, in Quechua, means Old Mountain. So all those iconic pictures you have seen of the ruins, in not a single one of those pictures can you actually see Machu Picchu mountain; it's behind you. Just struck me of sort of silly. Of course the whole region is now Machu Picchu, but that doesn't invalidate my point.

On the morning after everyone else had left I was picked up at around 0800 for a tour of The Sacred Valley. I don't usually go in for organised tours, and by taking one it only managed to reiterate my conviction that they are usually a waste of money. We spent longer sitting on the bus than at all the stops put together; the "optional lunch" which I was assured would be cheaper to pay for in advance, was not optional, as there was nothing else around for miles, and cost less if you bought it there; and the guide mostly talked about corn, and the weather. Not "The Weather" generally, but as an example "so... it is still raining outside... maybe it will stop soon. It does sometimes rain in the valley here." Good one Sherlock. There goes 40 dollars I could have spent on something more worthwhile. The other ruins were impressive, from the very little I saw, but I wouldn't recommend such a tour of the Sacred Valley to anybody.

I was droped in Ollantaytambo at approximately 1600 and my train wasn't until 2100 so I had a fair bit of time to kill. I ocuppied a table outside a restaurant and forced people to make friends with me by offering to share my table when there were only inside tables left. This was how I met Abi and Rachel, who both live in London. We had a lovely chat for a couple of hours, and their enjoyment of Machu Picchu that day helped to ralley me, as my enthusiasm had waned throughout the day due to the awful tour and the prospect of waiting for the train. We agreed to meet up in Cusco over New Year if I decided to stay there.

My train got in at 2300 and I found my hostel with no trouble, where they were almost clueless about the organised guide which had been arranged by then. I met up again with Robin, Alexis and Eduardo, three Peruvian guys who me had met in the hostel in Cusco. In the morning they too were going to Machu Picchu but leaving earlier and climbing Wayna Picchu (the mountain you actually can see in the pictures).

I decided to get an earlyish night as it would be rising early the next morning. Earlier than expected, as it turned out. They have an early breakfast at the hostel because so many people leave early. However, I find it completely uneccesary to start playing music at the bar at QUARTER TO SIX. WHAT THE HECK. Never mind. I took the bus from Aguas Calientes, the town by the ruins, where I had been staying, to the entrance, where I met my guide. This tour was a lot better. Our guide was extremely informative and spoke impeccable English. After a couple of hours the tour finished and we were left to enjoy it on our own. That was when the vastness of it really hit me. During the tour we had been constantly surrounded by other people, but once you go off on your own it is easy enough to potter through the quieter parts of the ruins and have a moment on your own to take it in. I walked up to The Sun Gate, the entrance to the city from the Inca Trail, a "45 minute walk" (half an hour). It was great to enjoy the sight of the ruins from slightly further off. I was particularly lucky with the weather as it was sunny the entire day whilst I was there, a rarity at this time of year. As I was leaving I met the Peruvian guys again, as they were also leaving. I chose to walk back down to the town as it was another 10 dollars to get the bus. (Which takes twenty minutes. Rip off.). On the walk back down I met a German girl and we walked together, only then did large splodges of rain start landing on our heads.

The money shot

In the evening I had planned to go to the nearby hot springs, however on being informed that going by myself as a girl I was going to get hit on loads, I lost enthusiasm as I couldn't be bothered with the hassle. Instead I stayed at the hostel and chatted with Robin and his friends as they waited for the train. I had been unable to get a ticket that evening so had to wait for the following morning.

The next day I was actually glad, as I was then able to enjoy the view from the window of the train, a novelty which I have missed. Before Machu Picchu, I had only had one train journey since travelling, and that had been overnight. I arrived back in Cusco at midday, and through much cajoling from various people, I was convinced to stay there for New Year's Eve.

I went for lunch with the Peruvian guys, where Robin said that it must have been the first time I had actually hung out with local/national people. A suggestion which I strongly rebuffed. Thinking about it, in every country I have. I stayed with my friend Florencia in Buenos Aires; in Puerto Natales in Chile Jen and I spent some time with two Chileans - Diego and Seb; in Bolivia I had dinner with the hostel owner, Cèsar in Coroico and on the 2 hour boat back from Isla del Sol spent the whole time talking to a Bolivian girl about my age, whose name escapes me, and in Brazil we spent time with a Brazilian girl, although she too was travelling. These are just a few examples and make me feel a lot better, especially when I meet people who have been travelling in Latin America for months and barely even speak a word of Spanish.

After months of travelling I decided to treat myself to a few relaxed days in Cusco, spending time walking in the city and sitting in parks. New Year's Eve in Peru is a pretty big deal and Cusco is apparently the place to be. There are traditions according to what you want the next year to bring - wearing yellow for hapiness, red for love, going around the block with a suitcase for travel, and so on. Despite my promises to be a social butterfly all evening I spent the majority of it with Abi and Rachel, the girls I had met in Ollantaytambo. However I have never been a big fan of New Year's and it was very busy so after showing off our amazing yellow pants and celebrating at midnight, I pretty much ditched out and went to bed. Sorry to disappoint anyone who was expecting a particularly wild story. The next day was quiet in the city and I basically lazed about and read "Little House on the Prairie." Don't bother, I have no idea why it is famous. Almost nothing happens.

Nighttime festivities in the Plaza de Armas

On the second, in the afternoon, I took the overnight bus to Ica, on the coast. I had an amazing amount of legroom and found it incredible that everyone else has that much space on most buses. The food and the choice of television, however, was abismal. After a few awful films, they put on a docudrama about Gettysburg. Really Loud. Until Midnight. Aparently only 5 people died and none of them were bleeding to death. Incredible. I finally managed to doze off, ready for what the rest of Peru had to offer me.