The bus, on the way to the Sacred Valley. And we're not talking no Greyhound. Like South Africa, the favored method of transport in most Peruvian cities is the combi bus, which operates somewhere in that gray area between private taxi and scheduled bus. Six soles (about $2) and the hour-long ride can be yours.
The salt pans at Maras. After arriving at Urubamba, a small town within driving distance of all the Sacred Valley sites, we secured our new best friend, Peter, as our cab driver. Our first stop were these outrageous salt licks, which have been in constant use for hundreds of years. Because there are no access roads besides the foot-wide precipices between each pan (many of these paths also contain an elaborate drainage system that sends just the right amount of water to each shallow pool), workers still carry the salt up the mountain in sacks on their shoulders. They do it a lot, too, since each lick produces over 100kg of salt per day. Incredible.
Maybe the best 15 minutes of the trip. On our way toward the highway, we stumbled across a Saturday street party, which included Peruvians from all the surrounding towns. The highlight of the event was the Tug of War Tournament, which pitted women from different towns against each other. Each team, occupying staked out spaces around a basketball court as if the Sharks and Jets were on their way, had its own colors. The largest, and most intimidating gang, was the Pink Ladies of Urubamba. They sent their six strongest ladies, average age about 65, into the ring. No one else approached, until the ragtag crew from Yucay ran in. I'll let you see the video someday, if you're good.
The terraces at Moray really don't photograph well unless there are people inside, to give you an idea...oh wait. There are people there. Well, that's how effing big it is. While the space looks like a big amphitheater, historians noted that each section within each bowl had its own microclimate -- it's really warm in one area, really cool in the next, windy in another, et cetera. They now think the site was used as a botanical laboratory, where they could experiment by growing different crops in different conditions.
The view from the fortresses at Ollantaytambo, where Manco Inca made his big stand against the invading Spanish. I don't have a good picture here, since Patricia brought the fancy camera, but will eventually be able to show you the steep walls on all sides of the plateau. Imagine Spanish conquistadors charging up the cliff faces, arrows and lances puncturing their fancy uni's, and saying "forget this, ese. I'm outta here. Paz afuera." I don't know why these conquistadors became Mexican in my mind, but it was a crazy colonial time.
Our train trip, which barely happened. As we arrived at Ollaytaytambo, we checked in with the ticket counter, which informed us that all the tickets had sold out. But with a little determination, perseverance, and ass-kissing, we managed to score two last-minute tickets on PeruRail, the finest monopoly the government could privately contract. Since there are no roads in or out of the closest city, Aguas Calientes, the train was a must. Here's us making the most of our time. Notice the Advil next the pencil, which are still being popped pretty regularly to cope with the altitude headaches.
Annnnd...we're here. This picture is my first good look at a Wonder of the World, taken at 6:41am. We'd been awake since 4:30. But with only a few dozen other people who made it up the hill that early, we were treated to some pretty baller scenery, and with some gentle mist and low-hanging clouds to add to the ambience.
Don't worry, I'm not going to show you all the ruins. But here's an example -- the Temple of the Sun. See that circular room? See the trapezoidal window? On June 21st (the winter solstice in South America), the sun peeks up over the mountain, through a huge stone structure on the horizon, through the window, and onto a ceremonial stone that still resides in the middle of the room. And crazy enough, this stuff still happens. Those Incas. What will they dream up next.
There I am. In one of the most magical places in the world, on one of the most magical weekends of my life.
