Trippinvignettes - Number 5

In which a pair of recently graduated accountants from Canberra (how could this quote not be awesome?), discuss the horrors of travel and the bliss of Public Servitude.


‘We can’t wait to get back to our new government jobs, even though we didn’t vote for this government’

‘AGREED’

Point Hostel, Lima, Peru.

Expecting Trouble

The most convenient border between Ecuador and Peru is also the most dangerous. There are countless stories of travelers being mugged, kidnapped and even stabbed while trying to get from one country to the next. While we were waiting in line to have our passports stamped, we started to talking to an American who had just caught a taxi between the Peru and Ecuador borders, then been apprehended by a policeman, driven to an ATM and forced to withdraw US$200, which the cop then pocketed. It was the second time we'd done that particular crossing, and I'm glad it was also the last (each time we've paid extra money to be taken in an international bus which is the safest possible method of crossing). This thing was parked at one of the border checkpoints, so the potential for big trouble is obviously well known:

Mancora- Part 3

After the Colca Canyon adventure, we decided to burn up to Colombia as fast as we could. One pitstop had to be made to celebrate Angie's birthday. We spent a couple of relaxing days in Mancora, on the North Coast, our third time in the dusty little strip with perfect weather.

Mancora transport

While we were waiting for our bus to pull up (it never actually did), this truck pulled up and demonstrated another good reason to be a vegetarian in these parts. The sun was beating down at 8 in the morning, and this guy was selling chickens from crates in the back of his ute. They actually looked just like those bright yellow rubber chickens they sell in joke shops, but apparently these ones were going to be cooked and served to restaurant goers.

Back to Bolivia...again

Desareguerdo- bordertown

After Marc and Bre left and we´d had it with the tourist blackhole that is Cusco, we decided to head back to La Paz to do a few more things we missd out on last time. The bus trip was a freezing cold, toiletless nightmare around 17 hours long. We only just made it through the border too- some locals had set up a blockade with the purpose of stopping any traffic trying to in or out of the country. Spreading large rocks about on the road to make it impassable to vehicles is a fairly common occurence in this part of the continent, and we were spared a long walk and lots of hassle due to the fact that there was a cycling race on that day, and the police broke the blockade to let the bikes through.

Tourist Moments 2

These girls are trained to spot a person like Angie from 100 paces. By person like Angie, I mean someone that involuntarily transforms into a bouncing bundle of excited shrieks at the sight of any animal less than two months old. We'd seen scores of them all over the streets of Cusco, hauling lambs and trailing baby llamas, preying on the huge herds of brightly patterned tourists. These two passed us on the street, and Angie managed to let out a small yip before I could restrain her and avoid an afternoon of harassment from lamb carrying, costumed Cusqueñas. But one giddy, muffled squeak was all they needed to identify a fresh kill. With no escape available, we agreed to a photo- the price is 50 centavos, they said. It turned out, of course, that Angie actually wanted to cuddle the lamby, giving in to her touristic instincts and barely able to hold still enough for a photo. Of course, when paying time came, the price had doubled due to the fact that there were two lambs in the shot. When is comes to tourist towns, Cusco is definitely the naval of the world.

Tourist Moments 1

One of Cusco's Main Tourist Attractions is this rock- 12 sides of hand carved stone that has been fitting flush with it's brothers for the last 500 years or so. It's a remarkable rock, but as a tourist distraction, it just doesn't... do anything.

Bye bye Bobby and Mr Barrow

The time came to say goodbye to Marc and Bre, our travelling companions for around the last three weeks. It had been great to be around old friends after so long, and we had gotten used to the background music of manic laughter and the constant interjections of ‘Bobby’ filling our days. There was a teary farewell and our amigos bundled themselves into a go-kart dressed as a taxi. We were on our own again.

Ink Souvenirs

Marc and Bre paid a visit to the Cusco tattooist for some long lasting souvenirs of South America.

The Return

Cusco from the train.

We returned to civilisation (if you could say we ever really left) via a series of violent railway switchbacks overlooking Cusco.

Incan Scraps

Everyone loves llamas

Some of the photos that didn't make it into the original posts...

Inca lion

Temple of the Sun, Machu Picchu

More llamas.

Crowds waiting for the clouds to part.

Marc and Bre at the starting line, Day Four.

Ancient steps.

Stonework along the way.

Site after site on day three.

IncaTrail Flora

This moss grows metres deep along on the rocks beside the trail. To prove this, our guide, Puma, pushed a walking pole vertically into the moss until the stick completely disappeared.

This is a 'You Will Cry' orchid.

These little fluro orange flowers pop up allover the site.

Daytura

Inca Trail, day four. The Big Show

Bleary eyed hikers in line

A rainy 3:30am start did not make for an exuberant campsite. We were up at this time (giving new meaning to the term 'ungodly hour') to be the first in line when the track re-opened at 5:30. Thankfully, Pachamama stopped the rain during breakfast, and we ended up being first in chattering line for the final walk to Machu Picchu. The excited walk to the Sun Gate, and the first glimpse of the ancient city was the scene of some intense competition. The chance to be the first to see the site is apparently very important to some people, and, with her walking stick converted into baton, Angie actually struck one over-eager Norwegian who made a cheeky attempt at passing our single-file group.

Machu Picchu is in there somewhere

Breathlessly, we arrived at the Sun Gate to find Machu Picchu enveloped in a thick fog, impenetrable even to the rising sun, let alone our sleep-deprived eyes. There was a tense fifteen minute wait on the ever-filling viewing platforms as nature performed an excruciating stripshow, constantly revealing snippets of stoneflesh but never disrobing completely. Our group continued on to the site, but even there the fog was thick. We spent an hour or so watching the beautiful spectacle of the terraces and temples being constantly revealed and recovered under a subdued morning sun.

Curtains parting

By mid-morning the cloud had dispered and was being replaced by a fog of overweight tourists (lazy train riding cheaters....ummm...we were taught on the tour that we must loathe them). Anyway, Machu Picchu was in full sun and Puma took us on a walk through the massive site, explaining the significance of various temples, houses and stonework.

The llamas are actually government workers employedtokeepthe grass short and photogenic

This is the most beautiful of the Incan stonework. Such precision was reserved for the most holyof sites.

A group of left the tour to climb Wanyu-Picchu, a small collection of platforms and houses built in the most impossible location, clinging to the cliffs overlooking Machu Picchu. When you look at photos of Machu Picchu, Wanyu Picchu is hidden at the top of the pointy mountain in the background, I'd never even realised it was there until someone pointed it out for me. The hour plus climb up was the hardest of the trip, but seeing the elderly Catholic nuns descending in their sandals put a stop to any lame complaining. The view from the top of the mountain was amazing. Sitting on the peak was the first time I could really comprehend that we were actually on a mountain surrounded by a valley. We could see the entire network of the Incas in the valley; the paths, the watchtowers, the farming terraces and the city itself, prostrated on the mountainside in a huge X shape. Seeing everything from this angle made it clear that it wasn't just an amazing society that had been destroyed, it was an amazing empire.

A cave on the way to the top of Waynu Picchu.

We spent the rest of the day wandering around Machu Picchu, laying like lizards on the rocks of the quarry, exploring the city and it’s surrounds and generally soaking up the energy of the place. A short walk away was The Inca Bridge, another cliff-face construction of stone and wood. The bridge allowed access to the city from another angle, but these days it’s off limits to all. Marc and I caused a minor uproar by walking around shoeless until a janitor on a power trip insisted we re-cover our aching hooves.


We left in the late afternoon, and while we were waiting outside for the bus back to our hotel, experienced some rock-star treatment courtesy of a Peruvian school group. Each of the twenty or so schoolgirls who were also waiting insisted on having photos with each of us, and then the mothers and teachers got involved as well. Despite all the attention, we still felt about as unglamorous as anyone would after not showering for four days. Nobody mentioned anything about how we smelt, which was nice, and the schoolgroup promoted us to the head of the bus line, which was nicer.


We made it back to our hotel, and headed straight for the local hot springs. The opaque brown water smelt a little too earthy to be considered cleansing, and the high density of bobbing heads and shoulders made the pools resemble a stinky human soup. It felt good on our aching muscles though, and once the smell got to be too much, we braved the local restaurant touts. We found a nice Mexican restaurant that immediately lost electricity and overcharged us when the time came to pay. It was obvious the night was heading downhill, and we were all at the point of absolute exhaustion anyway. We returned to the hotel, and had our first, glorious sleep on a mattress since leaving Cusco.

Bug Attack!!!!

Finally, we had an encounter with some of the monstrous buglife that is supposed to be malevolently skittering around South America. This specimem caused chaos when he attached himslef to Marc's finger, then used his iron legs to make sure he stayed there. After much screaming and spilt beers, the beast attached itself to a panic-stricken Marc's poncho, who managed to hold still long enough for this photo.

Inca Trail, Day Three

Once again we were up with El Sol and a steaming cup of in-tent coffee. However, it was to be our last such luxury; either Marc or Bre spilled their beverage leaving a puddle of nescafe in the tent and a ban on further wake-up delights. After a breakfast of pancakes the fameelee set off.

Marc, Bre and Angie in a watchtower

Cloudlakes

Day 3 was the day of Inca sites and cloud enveloped strolls. We hiked through an ever-morphing landscape that ranged from dry grassy hills, orchid infested humid rainforests to mossy, misted highlands. The results of the Incan penchant for building marvelous structures on impossible slopes could be seen everywhere, and we walked on stone paths had had resisted the need for repair or restoration since the time of the great empire. Angie took an apparently spectacular tumble-cum-commando-roll down one carved stone stairway and impressed everyone with her resilience.

This is tea made from coca leaves, the same one used in the manufacture of cocaine. Drinking this tea (or chewing the leaves whole) can reduce the effects of fatigue, altitude and also stop you from feeling hungry (not really a problem on this trip). Plus, it's really tasty.

We reached camp late in the day, our tents hidden in a maze-like campground housing the 200 trekkers and 300 porters that walk this track everyday. 500 people a day on a track like this tends to make things a little crowded, which can sort of dull the sensation of being remove from civilisation (as can the incredible quality of the food and service). But towards the end of the day, the crowd thins out and it is possible to have sections of the track completely to yourself, and these are the moments when you can almost forget that you're in the 21st century and enjoy treading paths over 500 years old.

Crowds

More ruins on a near-vertical slope

Our last ruins before the main event.