Dias Patrias Holidays: Machu Pichu and Cuzco

Dias Patrias are the Peruvian independence day holidays. Being patriotic, it means we get a four-day weekend. Some other volunteers and I decided to take advantage of the extra time and make our way to Machu Pichu.

We live in Urubamba, which is in the heart of the Sacred Valley and makes it fairly easy to get around to multiple ruins. To get to Machu Pichu we: 1. Took a combi to Oyantaytumbo, 2. Took a train to Aguas Calientes and 3. Took a bus up the mountain to Machu Pichu at 5:30 in the morning (but I'll get to that.

Saturday we left Urubamba at around 10, got to Oyanta at 11ish, had lunch and hoped on our train at 12:30. The train was spectacular. Because all of the seats in the backpacker train had been booked when we went to buy tickets, we had to opt for the slightly more expensive VistaDome. It was 100% worth the extra money. The VistaDome, as its name might imply, has glass ceilings, so you can see out the sides and the tops of the cars. Given that we were traveling through mountained country side, past pastures, rivers and glaciers, the view was absolutely incredible. And the early afternoon sunlight only added to the experience.

We got to Aguas Calientes at around 2:30, walked around the market a bit (so situated so that you have to walk through it when leaving the train to get to the town) and went in search of a hostel. Aguas Calentes is a town that straddles a river. The river effectively acts as a divider between the tourists and the locals; on one side are lots of restaurants, hotels, bars, shops and the bust station to Machu Pichu. On the other side are the same things, but markedly less fancy. What really struck me, even though it was just a little thing, was that there were bodegas on the local side of the river and not really on the tourist side of the river, clearly tourists are expected to eat at restaurants as opposed to buying bread and cheese and making their own sandwiches.

Well, we decided to stay on the local side of the river because of money and the fact that we wanted a slightly more 'real' experience. We ended up at a hostel where you had to walk through what looked like a jungle to get to your room. Very cool. We dropped off our bags and then went on what was supposed to be a fairly easy hour-long hike to a vantage point where you could see the entirety of Machu Pichu. We had some misinformation.

We began at round 4 in the afternoon. The hike started out fine, a little challenging on the uphills, but entirely doable. Then, about thirty minutes in, we saw a ladder. Not just any ladder, but an entirely vertical ladder scaling the side of the mountain - that was the way to the rest of the hike. We figured it wouldn't be too bad, so we continued up. And, when we had finished the ladder (which had something like 110 rungs) we saw another ladder. And that was the hike. Ladder after ladder after ladder scaling the shear side of this mountain. After about 45 minutes of this we passed some people coming down from the vantage point. But then it was around 5:30 or so. They told us it was another 45 minutes up to the top. Which would have been fine, except for things start to get dark at around 6:15 or so, and climbing down ladders next to a vertical drop was not something we particularly wanted to do. So we came down and didn't get to see the view. Sounds fine. But it just so happened that there were three of our group mates who had zipped up the mountian ahead of everyone else, and we had no way of telling them how much further they had to go and how they would be returning in the dark (no one had thought to bring their flashlight or headlight.)

We waited by the train tracks, where we would have a clear view of anyone coming off the mountian, for about an hour and a half. In that time we witnessed cats falling off a roof and almost hitting one of our group members on the head and we were attacked by three fiver-year-old Peruvians who wanted piggy-back rides (or to strangle us, but I prefer to think the former.) The entire time we were expecting to see our group members walking along the train tracks. Finally, we figured worrying wouldn't do any good, so we got some dinner. When we finished dinner and were about to walk to our hotel, who did we see but our missing companions! It turns out they had used iPods and cell phones and cameras to light their way down the ladders and the rest of the mountain and, although there had been some (very) near death experiences, everyone was fine and surprisingly calm.

We headed back to the hostel, wound from a very stressful day with some wine and beer and went to bead by 11, we would have an early day on Sunday...

But no one realized exactly how early. It turns out that our hostel was situated next to what can only be described as a farm. A farm with a very, very disoriented rooster. At 3am the rooster decided it was time to sound off, and didn't stop until 4am. It's the only time I've wanted to kill a living thing with my bare hands. We had to get up at 4:30 anyway, so we got very little sleep.

Why, you might ask, were we so determined to get to Machu Pichu at the crack of dawn? Well, the answer, my friends, is Waynapicchu. It's that ridiculously tall peek that is in the back of every picture of Machu Pichu, and they only allow 400 people up a day. It is supposed to have the best view of the ruins of Machu Pichu and, what's more, there are some amazing runs on the top of the peek. So we got up early.

We were in line at Waynapicchu, after a few mishaps (having to check too-large backpacks, having one of our group members almost not be let in because the stub for her Machu Pichu tickets had fallen off,) at 6:30. At 8, we found out that we were the last 8 people in the first group of 200, and would be allowed to go up the mountian shortly. At 8:45 we signed into a book that kept records of all hikers, and that we would sign out of when we returned. In this way, they could see if someone had fallen off the side of the mountian.

Climbing Waynapicchu made me come to a realization - the Incas must have been in extremely good shape. According to historians and anthropologists, the Incas were short. But their stairs were tall. The stairs got up to something like 2 feet, which made it very difficult to climb them. And the way to the top was about 85% stairs. The other parts involved sheer rock scrambling and narrow paths. But it was doable (especially after our experience the previous afternoon) and in an hour or so we hit the summit.

Wow. There really are no words to describe the amazing view. You feel like you're standing above the clouds (which, in some cases you are) looking through time. From up there you can really see that Machu Pichu was built in the shape of a condor, and the agricultural, residential and military sections of the town are clearly defined. It is an absolutely incredible feeling, even if it feel like you're intruding on the Incas worlds and even if you get a touch of vertigo.

We had lunch at the top (at 10:30am) and then just wandered the ruins. We sunned at the very peak on two rocks that come together at a 90 degree angle and then headed down. We tried to see as much of Machu Pichu as we could but we were exhausted and, after seeing the view from the top of Waynapicchu, the rest seemed to pale in comparison.

We made our way back to Aguas Calentes and our hotel, and I feel asleep until 8pm. Got up, ate some dinner and went back to sleep.

The next day, Monday, we headed out, back to Oyanta and then to Cuzco for Dias Patrias celebrations. In actuality, there were no celebrations. It seemed like people, with their four day weekends, had left to go to other parts, creating the illusion that there were more tourists in Cuzco than residents. It was a very strange feeling.

Cuzco, regardless of the fact that it is a city overrun with tourists, keeps a very hip, Peruvian vibe about it. There's an area on steep incline called San Blas. It's filled with adorable little boutiques, fun cafes and bars, live music venues and, of course, remnants of Inca life. It's the area most like New York's SoHo that I've found in my travels; even the streets are cobble stone and narrow, twisting so that where you come out of them is a mystery. Avenida del Sol is the main shopping street, about 3 blocks of the main plaza. You can find everything and anything there. About a half mile down Avenida del Sol is a cultural center which we happened to walk by just as a dance show was starting. We dropped in and were treated to 5 traditional dances and some traditional music, form the Cuzco (Qusqo in Quecha) area and from all around. My favorite dance represented male llamas and female herders. The men dressed up in such colorful outfits with huge amounts of colored wool hanging off them from every side. They would dance around the women, with the women and with each other to show their comradeships. It was very different and very interesting. Connecting the main plaza to the area where all the hostels and hotels are is called, colloquially, Gringo Alley. It's got lots of souvineer shops and even more camping rental and trip-booking agencies. And, what's even more interesting, is that everything seems to be written in Spanish and Hebrew. It's a fun place to wander around for a while, seeing the differences in prices between identical items in one shop or another. It's also a good place to practice ones bargaining skills.

Monday night, after the dance, we were all craving a taste of home. So we went out for the most American food we could think of: Chinese. It was a bit disappointing to say the least: my wanton soup didn't even have wantons, just noodles, but I guess there's something to be said for having tried Peruvian Chinese food. I think I'll just stick with the cuy. After dinner we went club hoping, which was great because I haven't been dancing since Guatemala.

The clubs around the main Plaza are very Gringo-friendly. We began at one, had a great tie dancing before it got overly full, and then decided to hit up the next one. The next club had a 10 sole cover, which we weren't willing to pay. Because we were white they let us cut the line and not pay the cover. The last club (three in one night is my limit) had a huge line outside of it but, as soon as the bouncer saw a group members' blond hair, they pulled all of us to the front and let us in.

In all of Peru there is discrimination, either positive or negative or just curios, based on skin color. But it's never been so blatant to me before. I felt awkward being given these special privileges - for something I had not control over. In all honesty, if I were a Cusquenian, I would hate the clubs for their neo-colonial perspective. As an American I can't stand the implication that the clubs give through their policies: that white people are rich and thus worthy of special treatment. It's an assumption that I've had to deal with throughout Latin America, and i think it makes interactions between Americans and locals less equal .

Tuesday we spent some time wandering around Cuzco, doing some shopping, and, at around 3, we headed back to Urubamba. Surprisingly, it felt like coming home. I think I've finally adjusted to small town life. And although I enjoyed the clubbing until three in the morning, as soon as I got back I was craving the hanging out in a cafe until 10 at night and then going home to read or sleep, which is a nightly occurance in Urubamba.