Saturday, January 5, 2008

Parting Clouds and Parting Ways

After using my imagination to (inadvertently) insult the Inca culture and all its descendants (see previous blog post), I was snapped out of my culturally insensitive and historically uninformed daydream by Andy, one of my fellow trekkers. Andy pointed out - in the kindest way possible, of course - that we ought to keep moving rather than standing alone amongst the ruins conducting inane inner dialogues.

Andy was a ridiculously nice person. In fact, I'm still shocked by how wonderful all of my co-trekkers were. Without exception, all 19 of my co-trekkers were well-mannered, considerate, well-educated, amiable, and all-around "good people." Everyone got along splendidly, and spending time with each of these people was a joy. What's more, we comprised a veritable United Nations: There was, of course, Andy (from the UK); Kate, his Kiwi fiance; Andrew and Rosanna, a UK couple so sweet they could give you diabetes; Rosa and Conrad from the US; Edgar and his sister Jennifer from the US; Teresa and her father Roger, also from the US; Erik and Dejane from South Africa; Morag, Tamar, and Dor from Israel; Amy and Tom from Australia; and Alexander and Robin from Sweden. In fact, given how genteel everyone was, it's probably not accurate to describe the group as a miniature UN; the real UN is far less civilized (I'm talking to you, Mssrs. Chavez and Mugabe). I think Andrew put it best: "You can always find at least one ass-hole on one of these trips, but I think we've found a loophole." Personally, I would have shied away from the hole metaphors (respectively, "ass" and "loop"), but I agreed whole-heartedly in principle.

A note to my faint-hearted readers: My apologies for the foul language, but it's a direct quote. I can only hope that I didn't give you "the vapors" or something similarly debilitating.

Now that that's settled (i.e., two thumbs up for my co-trekkers), I should move along, just as Andy requested. After two more nights of camping in the clouds (one near Sayaqmarka and another at Wiñay Wayna, a majestic set of terraced ruins near the end of the Inca Trail), we awoke at approximately 5:00 to begin our walk to Machu Picchu. After a few hours, and one dizzyingly steep climb up a set of nearly-vertical stairs at the Sun Gate (which didn't live up to its moniker thanks to choking fog), we stumbled upon Machu Picchu. I mean this quite literally; the fog was so think that I didn't even realize that I'd arrived at Machu Picchu:

Me (talking to nobody in particular): There seem to be more stone walls than normal. Why do you suppose that is?

Rosanna (always politely pretending that my questions aren't painfully stupid): Well, I believe that's because we're here.

Me: Here?

Rosanna: Yes. This staircase we're on is the entrance to Machu Picchu.

Me: Oh. How anti-climactic.

However, within 15 minutes, it became clear why so many people consider Machu Picchu to be a magical place. Almost if on cue, the clouds parted, ever-so-slowly revealing the ruins. With a splendidly eery view of the lost city (well, okay, it was found some time ago) behind us, we posed for the obligatory group photo (above), and made our way down to the city. Within another half-hour, we had a mountain bathed in sunlight, and we spent the next few hours exploring the city, admiring the jaw-dropping views (there really are no other mountains like those found in the Andes), and taunting the llamas that wandered about the ruins doing their llama thing (i.e., eating grass, and consequently helping unwitting tourists to redecorate the bottoms of their shoes). Within four hours, we were on a bus, on our way down the mountain to the nearby town of Aguas Calientes (literally "hot waters," like the US town of Hot Springs, Arkansas).

After a bizarre train ride (How many train rides have you been on that featured a dancing ghost figure and an alpaca fur fashion show, complete with pulsating techno music?) and another minibus ride, we arrived back in Cusco. Though my legs felt as if they were made of cast steel, I soon turned into bit of a softy. While I was glad to take my leave for some sleep in a proper bed, saying goodbye to my new friends was not fun. So often, when we embark on such a rewarding adventure, returning to real life is more difficult than if we'd never left. Though my "real life" is as good as anyone could hope for, I was thankful that I wouldn't be returning to real life for another six months.

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