Peruvian Highlights
Today’s article is by community member Bobbie Jo Traut.
Flying into the “Katmandu of South America,” the plane flew alongside the jagged snow-capped mountain peaks, which seemed to grow dizzyingly higher as we descended into the valley. On my first adventure to the southern hemisphere, descending vertiginously into the valley that sheltered the capital of the Inca Empire that, at its peak, had spread from Argentina to Chile, I felt literally on top of the world. Peru is the meeting place of histories, cultures, and nature – all of which blended to create an unforgettable and unique experience.
Matteo, the driver from the hostel, greeted me at the airport holding a makeshift sign with my name scrawled on it. His English was about as good as my functional Spanish, so we made do switching between the two. Speeding through the barrios of Cusco, my senses were overwhelmed by the sights and colors. The dusty streets were not always marked with lines for cars to follow, and stray dogs roamed up and down scavenging for scraps. The houses and buildings were squat – two to three stories at the most – and beige with trims, shutters, and balconies painted in bright blues and reds. I tried to explain to Matteo how different the city was – visually as well as in terms of atmosphere – to the towering grey and glass skyscrapers that loom over me in Washington DC. Matteo nodded and seemed to understand my frustration with trying to describe it in Spanish. “Es diferente,” he said knowingly. My eyes were focused beyond the window, trying to capture mental snapshots of every building, every person we passed, and every sign so that I could later recall them at will.
Capital of the Incas
Cusco, which lies 11,000 ft above sea level, physically required some getting used to; after a few days of eating light to stave off the altitude sickness, my two friends and I explored this incredible region, rich with natural and cultural history. Starting with the city of Cusco itself (also spelled Cuzco or Qusqu, in Quechua), the most striking is the mingling of native and European cultures – where traditional Andean dress contrasts with the Conquistador-erected churches that dot the city and dominate the city center. Declared a UNESCO World Heritage Sight in 1983, the city itself is charming but generally serves as a base for exploring the surrounding area, welcoming almost a million visitors every year. As is often the case, it is the people which make the town, and we certainly felt welcome.
Walking through the town we noticed at one point we were being shadowed by a small boy about 6 or 7 years old whose short legs moved quickly to match our pace. He carried a wicker basket filled with small bags of popcorn. His dark brown eyes caught mine causing me to stop abruptly in my tracks. Bending down to meet his gaze, I pointed at the bags of popcorn and asked “Cuanto cuesta?” Not breaking his wide-eyed gaze he shyly held up his hand, displaying all five fingers – meaning five soles, about 50 cents. Without taking his eyes off of the 5 sol coin I’d placed in his outstretched palm, he handed me a bag of popcorn. Walking away, I looked back to wave only to see him still transfixed by the coin. With a joyful smile, he excitedly grasped it tightly between his two small fingers.
Because November is not the peak tourist season, we stuck out and were met with smiles and curious stares. Naturally this also meant being accosted at every corner by people hoping to sell souvenirs. Women dressed in the traditional, vibrant Andean clothing, with baby llamas wrapped and tucked under their arms, urged us to pose for pictures with them – for a fee of course – while young men would try to entice us with beautiful watercolors of Cusco. After initially wanting to stop and talk to each person, it soon became apparent we would never actually get to see the city at this rate. We steeled ourselves, repeated “no, gracias” and tried to keep moving down the steep steps that led to the city center.
Rafting the Urubamba
Leaving the city, one is immediate struck by the stark natural beauty of the surrounding area. We chose to experience this as close to the ground as possible: by taking a horse back hack through some of the 16 Incan ruin sites surrounding Cusco and a rafting trip down the Urubamba River. The bus carrying our multinational group traveled along a two-lane road passing rows of maize and other crops, deep crystalline lakes reflecting the silhouettes of the Andean mountains, and sparsely inhabited buildings grouped into something vaguely resembling villages. The bus driver decided to entertain us with music videos, and after over an hour of the lesser-known greatest hits of the 80s, we gratefully piled out.
After donning our wet suits and practicing some basic strokes we headed down to the river, full of class II and III rapids, with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. Our rafting guide’s enthusiasm was contagious, Rojo’s playful laugh echoed off the canyon walls, as we approached each set of turbulent rapids. Encouraging us by shouting out: Quienes somos? [Who are we?], he would pause and grin in anticipation of our rather meek and uncertain: “Los mejores?” [the best?]. But our confidence grew with each subsequent rapid conquered. The sky stretched cloudless and soft blue above us, warming and drying us after each soaking wet splash. Our nervousness faded as Rojo kept us laughing and motivated to keep paddling the three hours down the Urubamba to base camp.
Lost City of the Incas
Machu Picchu had captured my imagination since I was a child. A four-hour train ride took us down to Aguas Calientes – a small town at the foot of Machu Picchu. A bus took us up the winding dirt track to a trail leading up to the ruins. During the short walk through a dense forest, our anticipation mounted with each step until we emerged on top of a small hill to find Machu Picchu spread below us. Known as the Lost City of the Incas, the citadel was built in the mid-1500s, at the height of the Incan Empire’s power. While awe-inspiring as a feat of engineering, architecture and evidence of the rich culture, it was particularly remarkable for having not been plundered by the Spanish. Abandoned a mere 100 years after its construction, it was protected by the dense jungle that grew around it and only discovered by western scholars in 1911. Rocks meticulously piled on one another form solid walls that wind up and down the mountain terraces. The foundations and walls of buildings, with roofs missing, still stand erect and resolute, and the mountain Waynu Picchu is the picturesque backdrop of what remains of this architectural wonder.
Groups of school-age Peruvians scrambled over the ruins, posing on the rocks and snapping pictures at every turn. While resting on a rock and soaking in the sights and scenes around me, I was approached by a group of young Peruvians. One of them held out a camera and said something quickly in Spanish. I reached for the camera so that I could take a picture of them. The kids laughed and shook their heads, “No, no, con tigo!” I laughed in return, “You want a picture with ME?” How could I say no? So they gathered around and we posed on the rocks with remnants of Machu Picchu barely visible behind us. I had traveled to Peru to experience the history and pay homage to the wonders of the Inca Empire, yet the warmth, hospitality and smiles of the Peruvian people became the snapshot of the country that’s captured in my memory.
You can learn more about Bobbie’s travels on her blog.
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January 28th, 2010 at 4:50 pm
This has me inspired! This is the perfect post to get me pumped up for Machu Picchu this spring – and I don’t think I realized there were other things to do nearby – rafting looks like a lot of fun