June 2019
When the conversation about where our next vacation might be crops up, my mind always heads to Europe. I just love the cities and the towns and the architecture and the history and the culture and the food and the languages and the music…you get my point. Never do I think about South America. When the government shutdown prevented us from applying for the super special park passes in Utah again, I was sure I had successfully dodged any kind of vacation involving hiking and wild animals. No such luck this time.
So I embraced my inner adventurer and packed my bags to hang with llamas while conquering Machu Picchu. An extra suitcase would come in handy to carry all the baby alpaca yarn I planned to bring home.
Lima
There’s just no easy way to get to Lima from Boston, at least no direct route. So we chose the scenic route through Montreal, with a layover just long enough to grab lunch in Old Montreal. The rain we dodged while waiting for a table at Olive and Gourmando was luckily the worst weather we encountered during the entire trip. Shopping for some new French finds in chic, charming little shops along the cobblestoned streets seemed so vacation-y, but with luggage already busting at the seams full of hiking gear yet to get muddied, we gathered our senses and just kicked our vacation off with some great food and a bottle of red.
Being a typically latitude kind of traveler, it was weird to travel on such a long flight without landing in a time warp. We touched down smack in the middle of the night- theirs AND ours-though the Peruvians didn’t seem to get the memo. The traffic to our hotel in Miraflores at 1AM on a Sunday could only be equated to Mexico City traffic during rush hour. “Buses” were crammed with people hanging out the windows and doors, music was blaring, sirens and red lights were mere suggestions, and 3 lanes of traffic were turned into 5 somehow. I was adamant before this trip that a rental car was out of the question, and the 40 minute Uber ride validated my convictions.
Given the arrival time, we didn’t have the opportunity to really get a feel for where we were, or what the hotel had to offer. Despite the darkness, we did notice, however, that we did not get an ocean facing hotel room. The massive soaking tub and in-room sauna made up for it a bit.
We only planned to spend a couple of days/nights in Lima partially to sleep off the travel, but mostly to fit in the two Michelin star restaurants we had made reservations for months in advance.
After getting a few hours of sleep under our belts, we headed out to breakfast for some of that world famous Peruvian coffee. Puku Puku was highly recommended, and difficult to find, being located upstairs in an open air food court.
A cappuccino and the chocolate croissant (that I silently promised myself I wouldn’t eat on this vacation in an effort to not gain 10lbs right off the bat but ordered anyway) hit the spot. I’m no coffee fan so if you’re looking for a recommendation, I’m a self-proclaimed unreliable source. I spent the rest of our vacation drinking a rotating supply of Coca tea and Muña tea anyway, so I really don’t have any other Peruvian coffee experiences to compare it to.
Our next stop was going to be the Central Market, but on the ride over our Uber driver casually mentioned that we may not enjoy it much since it had burned down a while ago. Ya think? So we rerouted to Plaza San Martin which was hopping with festivals, parades, a road race, tourists, and music and took in the sights and sounds of Lima.
We toured the Monastery of San Francisco and the catacombs, but no photos allowed, so you’re just going to have to trust me that we really went. It really felt like stepping back into Colonial Spanish times. The catacombs were pretty wild- I don’t think even the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyworld had that many skeleton parts! Nor does Walt Disney arrange crania in such elaborate, creative and concentric patterns. The library, full of antique texts predating The Conquest was a photographer’s heaven but the No Photo signs a photographer’s hell. Outside of the cathedral, lines of people hoping for a miracle wrap around and around each other. At the risk of sounding Marie Antoinette-ish, I feel like that time spent in the line could instead be spent actively trying to fix whatever it is you think a patron saint might be able to do for you.
We wandered the streets a bit taking in the city exploring all of the sights, sounds and especially the smells made us hungry, and the hotel concierge strongly recommended getting to La Mar cebichería when they opened if we wanted any chance of getting a table. This ceviche place, one of Gaston’s, lived up to the hype. Really great atmosphere, excellent service. We had our fair share of Pisco Sours and more ceviche than a person could possibly eat. If you don’t know me by now, I am not a vegan, or a vegetarian, or a pescatarian or an anything really (unless there’s such a thing as a pizzaterian…I could be that). But I am very much opposed to eating raw or slimy things; cute, fluffy things, insects or household pets. So it was a big stretch for me to eat a lot of things that were put in front of me that day. I’m not confident that I ever received the proper accolades for my good sportsmanship either.
We walked off lunch through the Miraflores neighborhood
Stumbled upon the highly instagrammed lighthouse, Faro La Marina
Checked out the lovers at the Gaudi inspired Parque del Amor while reminiscing about our first trip together to Barcelona where I kinda fell in love.
We were a bit too full and exhausted to accomplish much more that day, so we headed down to the “Pisco tasting/Pisco Sour Mixing Class” in the hotel bar. Being the only “students”, we didn’t have to share too much.
We ended up splitting a sandwich for dinner and calling it a day.
Our last full day in Lima was entirely scheduled around the two reservations we had- lunch at Central and dinner at Maido. You might think trying to fit in a total of 27 courses with paired wine tastings in one day would be a bit much. You would be correct.
We spent the morning exploring the colorful Barranco district.
From there, we headed down to the Chorrillos Fisherman’s Wharf. I was really excited to see this lively, colorful village, with a reputation for the freshest fish in Lima and a large pelican population.
We then promptly arrived for our 1pm reservation at Central which is pretty cool, if you’re into the Top Restaurants of the World thing. The gist of this restaurant is that their menu represents every altitude/biome of Peru. The food was delicious, and I once again stepped out of my comfort zone and ate things I would never eat in my life, and without a good enough reason (like imminent death from starvation) probably will never again.
Though the 16 courses were small, they were very filling. Couple that with very generous wine pairings,
and by the end of lunch, I was waving the white flag. Just in time for Virgilio himself to make the rounds to each table. It was pretty cool for him to come out from behind the hot stove and welcome his guests. I guess we should have taken a selfie, but I didnt want to seem too star struck. So we bought his book instead. Or two of them. I think Virgilio’s kids got new shoes that day.
That lunch pretty much did us in, and there wasn't much time to recover before our 8pm reservations at Maido. We tried to walk some of it off, but I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that I was going to burst.
And just to back up a bit...I made it perfectly clear long before we ever left for vacation that under no circumstances whatsoever would I eat guinea pig or alpaca. No way, no how.
Another Top 50 in the World restaurant, Maido is Peruvian-Japanese Asian Fusion. Despite fullness, we still went with the 11 course tasting menu- but skipped the alcohol.
As it was, I could barely eat anything, but when the guinea pig showed up, it was immediately passed across the table. The waiter was so sweet, offering to bring me something else but even if it was a pizza- there was really no room for anything. He eventually brought me some tea, and I think it helped a bit, but really, the only thing I wanted was my bed. Even dessert wasn’t appealing. That’s when you KNOW you don’t feel well.
We barely made it back to the hotel.
And so began the Montezumas…
This is the second trip I’ve taken in my life requiring a visit to the travel clinic before departure. We got the required hepatitis and typhoid vaccines, pills for altitude sickness and malaria and a prescription for azithromycin. I’m not sure what else they could have written on that pill bottle other than TRAVELERS DIARRHEA in bold, giant letters that would have suggested to us that NOW might have been a good time to take it. Maybe we feared depleting our supply so early on in the trip. Maybe we thought it could get worse? Either way, it wasn’t until Cusco before we cracked it open.
Was it the ceviche? Or the egg whites in the Pisco Sours? Or the ice in the Pisco Sours? Or Central? The world may never know. But funky food and Pisco Sours never found their way into my diet again that week. I stuck to pasta anytime there was an option.
An afternoon flight to Cusco the next day allowed us to sleep in at our hotel-turned-infirmary the following morning. We really didn’t know how we would survive the hour long flight to Cusco. Turns out, surviving Montezuma’s was far more pleasant than surviving Avianca airlines.
We made it to the airport with time to spare and after a lunch of saltines and ginger ale in the VIP lounge, headed to the gate. Flight on-time…Flight delayed…wait 20 minutes…okay, now you can board…oops, hold on…go back and sit down….20 more minutes….do you have any TUMS?….10 more minutes…where’s the bathroom?……getting a new plane…. 20 more minutes…. want some more ginger ale?…10 more minutes- yes, I know I said that 20 minutes ago…..no new plane….lets get some pretzels….sorry, flight canceled, head to baggage claim to get your bags, we’ll put you up in a hotel overnight…oops, just kidding, flight un-cancelled but now you have to go back through security and pay the airport tax again.
Cusco is an hour flight from Lima, but a 20 hour drive. We were at their mercy.
Where we stayed:
Where we ate:
La Bodega Verde- Barranco district
Cusco
After leaving the airport, the first question I asked in the Uber was- how far is the hotel? I just wanted to go to bed. We did make it to the hotel restaurant for some chicken soup before we crashed for the night. It was probably 6pm.
Cusco is at 11,200 feet above sea level. As someone who doesn't really do numbers, that doesn’t mean much to me. We had a diamox prescription that we took as prescribed, but I never really felt as though I had been well prepared for “altitude sickness”. What the heck does that even mean? I won’t be running a marathon, or participating in a Superbowl. So why should I care? “Oh, you’ll care, honey” was probably all I needed to hear. It’s like progeria. It’s like suddenly feeling 90 years old with a brain tumor, congestive heart failure and diabetic neuropathy overnight. Toss in a little Montezuma’s and you start to wonder why you even came. Coca tea and Muña tea became our constant companions.
Cusco became our home base for the rest of the trip. On each of our excursions from Cusco, we took a small carryon bag with us. Belmond Hotel Monasterio was kind enough to store our bags for us when we left and had them ready in our new room upon arrival. Each time we returned, they upgraded our room, until our last two nights there when we ended up with our own private courtyard with a secret entrance. We knew it was finally time to go home because there was nowhere left to upgrade to after that!
Over the next 10 days, we had a few intermittent days to explore the city of Cusco. It’s no secret that I dont love big cities, but Cusco was right up my alley. It’s the perfect walkable city. It’s brimming with the character of colonial Spanish, Incan and Andean architectural influence.
Those Incas were master stone masons, and could fit two stone blocks together like nobody’s business. These walls have survived many earthquakes, and seem to have been built to do just that.
This 12 sided stone drew quite a crowd.
The main square in Cusco is pretty flat, but branching out from there usually involves some hills. Any elevation when battling altitude sickness becomes a challenge. Walking up a hill could sometimes involve a few rest stops. Or some chest pain and a Hallelujah to the Lord above that I chose a cardiologist as a husband/travel companion. (Though sometimes his judgment was lacking, like when he dragged me up to a scenic overlook and failed to notice that my heart rate was in the 150’s and I was dying.) His assessment skills could use some sharpening.
Cusco is pretty crowded with a lot of tourists, but even more with locals, who are decked out in their traditional dress reflective of their native village.
The colors, patterns, designs and hats can signify which village the locals come from, or even simply their marital status. The women will dress this way on a daily basis. The men will wear a hat or a poncho for special occasions.
Even the babies get all dressed up.
and it’s not uncommon to see locals taking their llamas for a walk.
Tourism being a major industry in Cusco means the markets are full of souvenirs and more things to buy than you ever thought you wanted. It becomes difficult to distinguish the local handmade goods from those mass-produced in China, so we tended to only purchase directly from the artisans.
As a result, we made some new friends. Maria invited us to stay with her on our next visit to Cusco.
I had really hoped to get some good portraits on this trip as I found the Peruvians so intriguing, with beautiful skin and interesting faces, but I always struggle with asking people permission. It becomes a lot easier when you support them by making a purchase first. Although with this approach, we did end up coming home with things we didn’t necessarily want.
Those who had no wares to sell, capitalized on tourists fascination with the culture, and charged for photos. Though as soon as you handed them money, they suddenly didnt know each other, and they all wanted their own money.
Funny thing about souvenirs is that “when in Rome” all that stuff looks so cool that you want to bring it home to everyone you know. Then you get home, and that poncho and top hat just look kind of ridiculous.
Inca quipu which looks so festive, turns out was a really useful record keeping tool for the Incas to keep track of the census or of taxes. I could easily have filled a suitcase with these, but you know…ponchos and top hats.
Cusco is a really important town to stay in prior to visiting Machu Picchu in order to acclimate to the altitude. It’s also a great central location to visit other towns from. It’s really easy to drive, fly or take the train from Cusco so it makes a perfect home base. So off we went…
Where we stayed:
Palacio Del Inka - we stayed here the first two nights
Belmond Hotel Monasterio- we came and went from here for the rest of our vacation
Where we ate:
Machu Picchu
A lot of behind the scenes finagling was being done in the trip planning stage for special tripod permits for Machu Picchu. Ever since I left my tripod in Spain a few years ago I gave up on lugging one around, so I didnt pay much attention. I’m a reluctant landscape photographer anyway, as the process and eventual product don’t really spark joy, but I’ll give it my best shot when at one of the world’s wonders. Accessing the permit itself prior to leaving Cusco almost caused us to miss the train to Machu Picchu. Well, that and the idea of ever getting out of bed- we were still not back to feeling normal.
There are also luggage limits for the train so plans to store luggage and proper packing for the journey itself are key to the whole process and require advanced planning. Bringing one carryon and two big backpacks filled with gear was pushing it a bit, but they kindly accommodated us.
The trip from Cusco to the train station is far longer than you’d think it should be. We later learned that the train no longer comes into the heart of the city because it was too urban- drunk people and sleepy animals took too many naps on the tracks at very inopportune times. At some point they decided to just end the station in Poroy. There’s a story as to why this town is called Poroy. Maybe I’ll tell you later.
Though I prefer to fly by the seat of my pants when it comes to vacation, the benefit to just going on a trip already planned to the minute for you is that oftentimes you are pleasantly surprised. The Hiram Bingham train trip did not disappoint. We arrived at the station and were immediately whisked into a 4 hour long party, complete with live band, delicious food and champagne.
The often scenic and sometimes slow-chugging train ride zipped by thanks to the entertainment and endless supply of Pisco Sours. I opted for wine.
Upon arrival in Agua Caliente, Machu Picchu town, we boarded the bus waiting there for us and began the hairpin zig-zag up the mountain to Machu Picchu.
Our entire two week itinerary hinged almost entirely around the two night hotel reservation we could get at Belmond Sanctuary Lodge, Machu Pichhu, which is located right at the entrance to the site. Any other accommodation in Machu Picchu town would have required taking that hairpin turn bus ride up and down (or hiking, but remember who your author is here...) really early to get there in time for sunrise. And that was our driving force. It was kind of like staying on property at Disney World, and I did feel like a princess (occasionally I can rise to the accusations of being high maintenance).
The site opens at 6 am, and we managed both mornings to be there for sunrise shooting. The first day we had a private guide, and he was great to get us to the best shooting locations.
Light is funny there, though, as once that sun comes up over the mountain, it's really too bright and you’ve lost your moment. We then used that time to explore and make some llama friends.
Sometimes, you think- seen one photo of Machu Picchu, seen them all…but all the nooks and crannies and levels and hiking trails and sense of awe you feel when there really does prevent any photo from doing it justice. Our private guide on our first morning there was great- very patient and allowed me to catch up to them at my own pace. Gotta be honest, climbing was a killer.
Even though Machu Picchu is a lower altitude than Cusco, I didn’t feel much of a sense of relief. But there were people wandering the ruins of all shapes, sizes, ages and abilities so I had no excuse. It’s amazing how there are not serious injuries from falls there all day long, but it might be a good testament that the fewer protections you put in place for a person, the more they take for themselves.
There is a flight of steps within the site called the Gringo stairs. Guilty as charged.
In all, we made 3 trips into the site. We also had tickets to climb to the top (PS- that peak you see in every photo is not actually Machu Picchu, it’s Huayna Picchu). Those agile little Incas didn’t think Machu Picchu was high enough, so they built a trail up to the top of that peak to separate the boys from the men. I’ve seen photos of that trail. This Gringo will stay down here with the boys.
Weather is also rapidly changeable and varies quite a bit from the bottom of the mountain to the top. It’s beautiful to watch a storm roll in, just not so beautiful to be caught in it.
Thanks to photos I had seen on Instagram, I was as excited to see llamas at Machu Picchu as I was to see Machu Picchu itself. As luck would have it a baby was born the morning we were there.
It was so fun to watch her figuring out her legs, and mom helping out.
I really could have spent hours just watching them and they were certainly drawing a crowd. Mom was making a lot of noise. A member of the male species loudly stated that Mom was clearly stressed by everyone being so close to her baby. Spoken like someone who will never push a large creature with 4 hooves out of his body. No buddy, what Mom needed was a heating pad and some Advil.
Though every mom thinks her baby is a genius, I think this Mom’s goals for Junior on day 1 may have been a bit ambitious.
By staying right onsite, we had more time to take advantage of the hotel and its lush grounds where we could enjoy drinks on our patio, walk the orchid path with 40 something varieties of orchids,
and get an open air massage.
We left the hotel with a little time before our train back to Cusco to poke round Machu Picchu town, and scour the market at the train station. It was sunny when we left the hotel, but the skies opened up to torrential downpours like Id never seen before by the time we got to the bottom.
We tucked into the markets to stay dry,
but without the rain letting up at all, and the tin roofs leaking and the flooding that started within, we dodged the raindrops and grabbed some lunch. At the last minute, we changed our train reservation from the regular train to the Hiram Bingham back to Cusco. It was even more of a party train at night. We got back to our hotel with really just enough time to grab a few hours of sleep before an early morning flight to Arequipa.
Where we stayed:
Where we ate:
Arequipa
An early flight from Cusco to Arequipa landed us at our hotel prior to check-in. We had only packed a small bag for the two nights we’d spend there, so we left it with the hotel and took off to explore our surroundings.
We were initially regretting this side trip as we drove from the airport to our hotel as the city seemed rather gritty and when the cab pulled up in front of the hotel we were a bit disappointed. It was also a much bigger city than I had envisioned, though as the second largest in Peru, I shouldn’t have been surprised. The hotel lobby was a bit nicer once you passed through the front door (as a renovated castle or monastery) and the location was central to the sights we had in mind but the rooms were dingy, air flow non-existent and the elevator was not working for most of the time we were there. All that aside, it was still one of the nicer hotels in the city.
One of our main interests in this town was the Santa Catalina Convent and Monastery, which was a block away from our hotel. We headed straight there, and ended up going back for sunset the following day. This Monastery was a city within a city-every alley, every room led to a new alley or room. The rich, gorgeous colors transform in the sun, so visiting at different times of the day feels like an entirely new experience. So indulge me for a minute…
The deep siennas…
The rich blues…
the intricate carvings…
the secrets around every corner…
It’s easy to spend an entire day here. They offer tours in every language, but we were eager to explore at our own pace.
Leaving the monastery on Sunday afternoon, we stumbled right into a street festival, with beautiful costumes, loud music and dancing in the street. Not sure if it was a Mother’s Day celebration, or a weekly event as one uber driver told us, but those Arequipans go all out.
It was hot in Peru. South of the equator, it was the end of their summer but they said they have two seasons, wet and dry. I love the heat, so I don’t mind one bit, but it definitely lent itself to grabbing a cold beverage now and then. Sometimes lunch=beer.
I joined.
We explored the historic center of Arequipa and were also sure to check out Mercado San Camilo. Mercado San Camilo was a two story market selling everything you could ever possibly need from spices to suit coats.
The vibrant colors and bustling activity made this market a photographers mecca. The fruits and vegetables were the biggest I had ever seen, thanks to the absence of the FDA.
Sellers hawking their wares made for really great photo ops, but once again- we felt it important to support anyone who was kind enough to let us take their photo. And also thanks to the absence of the FDA, we avoided any fruits or vegetables that didn't have a really thick peel. Sadly, the wheel of cheese we bought went straight to the garbage.
This was definitely the place where locals buy their everything.
Personally, I was a little grossed out with the way food was sitting out in the open, at room temp, flies everywhere and was further committed to my newfound vegetarianism.
Though we were kind of looking forward to trying the fruit we bought, we came across a homeless man who looked like he needed it so much more than we did. He eagerly accepted our offering.
We headed to over to Plaza de Armas
and grabbed a table for dinner with a beautiful sunset view.
That furthest tower is completely reconstructed after it tipped right over and fell into the cathedral during a massive earthquake in the 80’s. Our waiter gave us the whole history, even his personal experience as an 8 year old. I can’t imagine co-habitating with the constant threat of earthquakes. Every elevator suggests taking the stairs in the event of a fire, or a “seismo”. Though we luckily never felt any rumblings, an 8.0 hit two weeks after we got home.
Next day, we had the hotel arrange a private tour to The Sillar Route, the quarry on the outskirts of town. This white volcanic stone is so prevalent in the construction of most buildings in Arequipa. This quarry still “farms” the stone for building, but also has become an artist colony.
Our driver picked us up at the hotel, and dodged rush hour traffic through the city for the hour or so drive out to the quarry. He was on his phone the entire time, coordinating other drivers for his driving business. Strike One.
Once at the quarry, we were introduced to the workers who showed us the block making process
and the artists who carve the stones
and were wowed by the carvings in the quarry walls.
We put our camera gear in the trunk of the car and departed the quarry. As we headed back to the hotel, our driver continued with his constant phone conversations with his employees. Strike Two.
Just to back up a bit- I was absolutely adamant that we would not be driving/renting a car in Peru. I envisioned rural, backroads, vigilante type roads where who-knows-what would happen to us and who-knows-when our bodies would be found. I know, kind of dramatic… but not worth the worry for me.
So as we are driving back to our hotel (or so I thought since this guy doesnt speak English, and most of his talking is being done on the phone to other people anyway) we get pulled over by the police. The driver and the cop are having a conversation. Im getting the side-eye from Hector who is native Spanish speaking. The driver gets out of the car. Heads behind the car. Something about an expired license, not having the right papers, cops looking for a bribe. Hector says- “when I say so, be ready to move quickly”.
WHAAAAAATTTTT??????
Now he can be a bit dramatic too, but I wasn’t going to challenge him at this point. Figuring it wouldn’t be a good time to ask for our camera gear in the trunk, I was fully prepared to abandon it and just run. Before I had to even consider it, the driver got back in and we started driving off. He pulled down a side road (okay, now we’re really going to die and no one will find us for a long time) and came to a man standing by the side. He told us to pay the man. OMG. We were going to be robbed BEFORE we were murdered! Couldn’t they wait until afterwards?? Turns out we were at a scenic overlook where bus loads come to see Misty, the volcano. Strike Three.
Truth is, I kind of lost my appetite for scenic overlooks, thank you very much, so can we please just go back to the hotel? I think he tried to show us a few other things, whether in an effort to apologize or get a bigger tip, Im not sure. We consistently declined. When he finally dropped us back at the hotel, he offered to drive us to the airport the following morning. No thanks. We prefer our drivers with licenses.
Later that afternoon, in my never-ending quest to shop for yarn (you’d be surprised in a country where textiles and fibers are a main industry, you’re hard pressed to find a ball of yarn), we stumbled upon Mundo Alpaca which was heaven on earth to me. A retail store with a secret hidden fiber museum out back. Llamas and alpacas just hanging out.
There were weavers weaving and a demonstration on collecting, sorting, spinning and dying fibers. We learned the differences in the quality of the fibers, and the whole story on the Vicuña. The wool of the Vicuña is so special (expensive) because it can only be shorn every 3 years. Vicuña has to be caught in the wild, and at one point were near extinction because of the way people hunted them for their wool. In Incan times, only royalty were allowed to wear Vicuña wool. There are many laws in place protecting them. The traditional gathering of their wool involves the village to come together to herd them, shear them humanely and release them back into the wild. The government strictly oversees this process, and therefore any Vicuña product you purchase needs to have a certificate. There are also strict rules about importing and exporting in an effort to protect the Vicuña.
Mundo Alpaca’s business model sure worked on us as we practically cleaned out the store. Turns out that was the only place I found actual balls of yarn, and bought as much as I could fit in my suitcase.
There were parts of the Arequipa region that we did not take advantage of given the short period of time we spent there- Ive heard Colca Canyon is beautiful (though involves hiking). I still feel as though we spent enough time there. There was something about Arequipa that felt dirtier to me than the other cities we visited. I left there wanting to study public health to have a better understanding of why people live in that way, and truly appreciated the fact that we don’t.
Where we stayed:
Where we ate:
Arequipa Suites Plaza Hotel roof deck
Ausingate/Rainbow Mountain
As photography enthusiasts, it can be really frustrating to travel halfway across the world for that one mental image you have of a location, only to be there with 500 of your closest friends and their selfie sticks. Thanks to Instagram, it’s unavoidable (which makes me a bit of a hypocrite as I rely heavily on it when researching destinations). Large group photography tours aren’t our cup of Coca tea either. We’ve come to value finding a knowledgeable local photographer who can take us to the lesser known places, and allow for diversions along the way. In Peru, we booked a 2 day/1 night photo trek with Andean Photo Expeditions out of Cusco. Alex picked us up at 5am from our hotel and we spent the next almost 48 hours with him and our driver, Ramon (or was it Roman?) as they took us out to the mountains and showed us the sites along the way.
First stop was the pre-Incan southern gate to the Cusco Valley- the beginning of the Inca Imperial Road- where we caught sunrise. La Portada de Rumicolca was either built as a large aqueduct to bring water to the city, or as a gate separating the north and south regions of Cusco, and in the name of a good government, the Incas used it as a toll road.
After some coffee and breakfast with the locals, we headed out to an Inca Bridge along the route- where WE were charged a toll just to photograph it.
Next stop, the alternative Rainbow Mountain, which was supposed to be less crowded than the Rainbow Mountain seen all over Instagram. I guess I hoped against hope that all the driving we were doing would mean that there’d be less hiking, but when Alex gave us something to rub on our hands and smell to help with the altitude, I shoulda known. There was a good bit of hiking involved here, and I probably carried way to much camera gear but I thought I was going to die. Alex was pretty patient with us and our lack of endurance, but I could tell he was already sizing up our abilities for the rest of the adventures. It’s very possible that there was some whining involved about this trek.
Despite being the “less crowded” Rainbow Mountain, quite a few busloads pulled in right after us, so I think the secret is out.
The colors of the mountain are due to the mineral composition of the land.
There was a higher elevation to hike to for a better view, but I think Alex realized we were pretty wiped out. Hector caught an upper respiratory bug in that airless hotel in Arequipa, which I was secretly thankful for because it reduced his stamina level to that of mine on a really good day- let alone a day where O2 sats hover in the 80’s. I no longer looked so bad compared to him.
The drive to the alternate Rainbow Mountain is really, truly breathtaking, with cows and llamas roaming the countryside and local people harvesting all together as a family.
On the way up, we passed Laureano’s Potato Museum-Museo de Papa Nativa and were lucky enough to stop there to eat our picnic lunch on the way back. And of course tour Laureano’s museum in the back of his home. Laureano is the curator, the tour guide and the potato educator of his museum. And even though he doesn’t speak a lick of English, and his Spanish isn’t so great either, his passion and enthusiasm for potatoes spoke volumes. His museum admission is tips only, and he does have a little gift shop where you can purchase handmade items. No one is happier about potatoes than Laureano.
We left there and began the long drive to our local accommodations in the small village of Pacchanta where we would trek to the lagoons of Ausingate the following day.
We caught a magical sunset.
And arrived at Jose Luis’ and Maria’s hostel after sundown and in time for dinner
Jose and Maria were lovely and happy to share their home. They spoke the local language, Quechua, and only a little bit of Spanish, so we communicated in hugs and smiles.
Im sure everyone enjoyed their alpaca dinner, while I enjoyed mine sin carne (because I lied and said I was a vegetarian).
After dinner we headed out to do some astro-photography. With the absence of light pollution, the Milky Way on a clear night was entirely visible. I complained about this and tried to not go since I was FREEZING, but the boys convinced me it would be fun, and they’d help show me how to do it. We strapped on headlamps and started heading over to the river. As soon as we got there, the boys took the best spots, set up and started clicking away. Ummm…hello?? So I’ve got nothing to show you here.
Being in the mountains at an elevation of 14,000 feet, it was pretty cold. I was really looking forward to a warm bed. But being in the middle of kind of nowhere, we had one light bulb in the room, one outlet plug, and certainly no heat. I slept with two pairs of socks, two pairs of pants, a hat, gloves and about 4 shirts. I stole as much body heat as I could possibly curl up next to. And I managed to avoid using the baño until daylight.
Up before the sun, we headed back over to the river where the rising sun would soon light up Ausingate in the background. Though it was chilly, the setting was magical and there was something so peaceful about being up with the roosters and the cows. Soon the local dogs also came over to see what we were up to. It was really cool to watch the weather change before our eyes
After breakfast, I was very much relieved to see Jose Luis saddlin’ up the horses. I didn’t want to be the fun sucker by asking if we were really going to WALK all that way to the mountain. I dusted off my riding skills and Anillo de Oro (Ring of Gold) became my new best friend. I soon got on a first name basis with him and just called him Golden Boy. According to my apple watch, “we” walked 10 miles and climbed 57 flights that day. We’re amazing!
I did bring a lot of my gear with me on this “hike”, but once we got out to the lagoons, I wasn’t terribly inspired to dig out the filters and set up my little tripod. I honestly believe my cell phone shots were as good if not better than those from my real camera.
It’s interesting to watch the weather change so rapidly out there in the mountains. I had full confidence that Alex wasn’t leading us into a survival experience, but at one point, the black clouds rolled in and the hail did start to pummel us. We were back to the hostel by lunch, and warmed up with some tea.
And then began the long ride back to our hotel in Cusco. Where upon arriving, they upgraded our room to a giant suite with a separate entrance to a private courtyard with the most inviting tub I’d ever seen. It’s like they knew where we had been.
Where we stayed and ate:
Jose Luis and Maria’s hostel in Pacchanta
Sacred Valley
On our last full day in Cusco, we booked a private tour of the Sacred Valley through the hotel concierge. We hemmed and hawed about finding a guide who knew photography, and could bring us to all the right spots, until we saw the price tag and said no thanks. I was a bit photo-toured-out at this point and by the afternoon had retired my camera anyway. At least for the treks up to and through Inca ruins. Those who say it only takes a few days to acclimate to altitude sickness are making it up.
Nancy Bautista, our guide, met us in the lobby and led us to our sweet ride, and introduced us to our driver, who, for the first time in a couple of weeks, wasn’t the Peruvian Mario Andretti. I can’t say enough good about Nancy- as a local, she knew her home inside and out. She was a wealth of information, historic, political, agricultural, economic, cultural- you name it. She took good care of us with water, snacks and hand sanitizer- it was like having Mom along! I couldn’t recommend her highly enough.
This ‘hood of the early Incas in the Cusco region encompasses towns along the Urubamba River such as Pisac, Ollantaytambo, Chinchero, Maras and Machu Picchu. We had some definite sights we wanted to see, and she threw in some we didn’t even know about. It’s a great way to see all the small towns and how the people really live.
As a knitter, I was really excited about the yarn and weaving process. I planned on coming home with suitcases full of alpaca wool, since coming home with the actual Alpaca wasn’t going to be an option. Having a pet alpaca is now on the bucket list, but I’d have to figure out how to litter train it. If monthly rent for our cat is $40, I can’t imagine what it would be for an alpaca.
Chinchero was the town of my dreams. I truly could have spent all day here, maybe even applied for a job, but getting to the salt mines before the tourists took over was a priority, so we only had time to visit one shop. This was truly the highlight of my vacation. I realize it was geared towards tourists, but sign me up. This adorable girl with a sassy sense of broken English humor taught us how they shear wool, clean it…
dye it…
(The red color comes from crushed up ant eggs.)
and spin it…
to turn it into yarn…
and then we watched the women weave the patterns
I was spending too much time there, so after a few purchases, I was rushed off so we could get to our next destination before the crowds. But not before I made a new friend.
From there, we headed off to Moray, an archaeological site of terraced, circular Inca ruins. This site was discovered by pilots who were mapping out the region in the 70’s. We walked the perimeter as Nancy explained to us that it was believed that the Incas used this as almost a giant science experiment. The depth of the terraces creates protection from the wind, exposure to the sun, and a temperature difference of about 30 degrees between top and bottom. It’s believed that the Incas took vegetables that grew well at the bottom and acclimatized them level by level until they were able to grow year round in different climates. They also built a cool irrigation system for each terrace as they were so skilled in doing.
Moray also lends itself to some really cool images.
From there, we made it to the salt mines of Maras and successfully beat the masses of tourists descending by the busload. I wasn’t too keen on seeing this place, and boy was I wrong.
If you want the science behind this site, you should google it as it’s really pretty cool. But the coolest thing about this particular communal salt mine is that the salt ponds are individually owned by local families, who are responsible for farming their salt from their own ponds. They come and hang out by their little plot, or work in the blistering sun.
They do combine their harvests for export, and are paid accordingly by weight, but since salt farming isn’t a really lucrative business, the farm is open to the public for an entrance fee. The souvenir shops selling all things salt (and a lot of other junk) also help contribute to the financial sustainability of this farm. We couldn’t NOT bring some home.
It’s hard to get a sense of how large the salt mines are. Any new plot owner gets relegated to the far away plots. That’s a whole lotta hefting and hauling salt, as everything is done by manpower, so just remember how hard someone had to work for your high blood pressure, and maybe you can find a way to appreciate it a bit the next time you’re at the doctor’s office.
After the salt mines, we made the long slow trek back down to the valley (by car of course!) to the Inca ruins of Ollantaytambo. Ollantaytambo is also a common starting point to hike to Machu Picchu, for those who haven’t yet figured out that there’s a train
If we’re being completely honest here, I would have far preferred to have poked around the markets, or go to the festival in the square in this town rather than climb that Inca ruin which was insanely steep (and was beginning to look like all the other Inca ruins). It truly is fascinating though how those Incas got those boulders all the way down one mountain and back up the next. I wouldn’t have made a good Inca. I would succumbed to a fall down the stairs long before smallpox was even an option.
After lunch we headed to Pisac, to tour the ruins there and then pop into the well-known market in town. Luckily these ruins didn’t involve much climbing. The coolest thing about these ruins were the tombs carved out in the mountain face high above the gorge where important people were buried with valuable artifacts. Can’t even imagine how they got dead bodies in there, but once the Spaniards came to town, they went in and looted all the tombs.
We took a quick run through the markets before heading home. It was a lot of the same old stuff we’d seen everywhere else. Though I’d never tire of seeing the way the locals dress, or how they travel with their llamas.
Where we ate:
And with that, another trip was in the books. We had another half day in Cusco before beginning the trek back home, which we spent poking around the shops and last minute souvenir shopping.
We also managed to check out the duty free at the airport since we had a good amount of time to kill. I suggested we pick up some Coca Tea to bring back home. Boy did I get an earful! “YOU CANT BRING THAT HOME!!!!!!!! You’ll be arrested!”
I decided that probably wasn’t a good time to mention that the luggage we checked way back in Arequipa is full of the teabags I took from the hotel room.
I made it home without being arrested. Tea Party at My House!!
Now to choose which shots to print from Fracture!