Day 3: The Sacred Valley

Parque Arqueologico Pisaq
In the Sacred Valley of Peru

March 9, 2009: From Cusco to Ollantaytambo

Dear Grandma,

I find myself in awe of the Andes.

I feel like I’m an extra in the Blu-Ray version of that Planet Earth series. The Sacred Valley of Peru is incredibly lush this time of year. Bright blue skies with crisp white clouds. Water running through irrigation systems. Poinsettias growing in hotel courtyards. Emerald colored mountains reaching towards the heavens. If only I was in my own car so that I could stop and take pictures every few miles. Yet, while the images of the mountains are burned into my brain, my photos do not capture the true nature of this verdant valley. You know, I used to think that M.’s paintings of Peru were a bit too green, but after spending time here, I realize that his paintings comes closer to the reality of this place.

The day started early when I woke up in one of the dirtiest hotels I’ve stayed in for quite some time. Braided my hair, pushed my way through the street vendors outside the hotel, and bought bottles of agua con gas for the drive to Ollantaytambo. There was some confusion over our luggage; our guide told us to leave our big bags behind which freaked out a lot of people. Me? I’ve learned over the years to never take anything of value on a trip like this. If something disappears out of my suitcase, well, that’s one less thing I’ll have to drag back to the States. [Note: In fact, I intentionally packed a bunch of clothes I hated so that I could leave them behind. I "lost" 5 shirts, a poncho, a pair of pajama bottoms, and some ratty underwear on this trip.]

With the tour group finally loaded on the bus, we headed out of Cusco, making a quick stop at another archeological site just outside the town. I never heard the name of the place, but it included a cavern with an ice cold stone table used to sacrifice animals. Large dolls were hanging in the trees near the entrance to the gate. I thought that was a little creepy until someone told me that they were supposed to bring good luck. As with all trips of this nature, there’s never enough time to really explore a place. Our guide rushed us through the site, then grew frustrated as people continued to ignore his pleas to get on the bus. Yes, the majority of the people on this trip can only be described as power shoppers. I’ve never seen anything like it: hats, scarves, dolls in multiples of twos and threes. Wall hangings. Paintings. Some of them are going to have to buy extra luggage to get all their new purchases back home. And where, oh where, are they going to put these items once they get home? Maybe I’m a minimalist, but I just don’t have that kind of wall space in my house … or in my office, for that matter.

Near the market in Pisaq, Peru
We would see a lot of dogs running around on this trip

 Our next stop was the archeological site of Pisaq. Originally, we were going to stop in the marketplace, but M. talked the tour guide into taking the bus up the mountainside to the ruins. When we got to the gate, everyone piled out to use the bathrooms (no toilet seats, no toilet paper) and – you guessed it – to shop. It took forever to get everyone into the park to look at the ruins which meant that we had about ten minutes to look at the site. Then M. took his two kids and climbed down to the town, while the rest of us loaded back on the bus and drove to the marketplace.

Our tour guide dragged us into a shop where we bought bread stuffed with cheese and onions. A nifty little snack to tide us over to our lunch further up the road, but my appetite was ruined when the cook whipped out a cooked guinea pig skewed on a stick. At that moment, I realized that I would never, ever, be able to join the Peace Corps. I would never be able to eat anything that was reminiscent of a childhood pet, cultural sensitivity be damned.

I wandered around the market, taking pictures of the cool irrigation and drainage systems – one actually had a snake head opening – and looking at jewelry. Now, I am not good at bargaining for a better price. In fact, I hate the practice. I just want someone to tell me the best price and be done with it. Yet, I still managed to get a decent price on a beautiful Inca Cross, known as a chakana. Mine is blue with silver animals on it – a condor, a puma, and a snake.

Our tour guide (who, incidentally, shares the name of a famous French author) had his stopwatch going, so we were rushed out of the market after 45 minutes. Well, most of us were rushed out of the market. Yes, the woman who lost her purse on the plane had managed to lose herself in the marketplace. So while our tour bus was painfully slow laps around the city, squeezing through impossibly narrow streets, M. and the tour guide dove back into the market, searching for and ultimately finding the lost chick.

Now, imagine a bus full of tired and dirty people who are used to eating at a certain time. Then think about the fact that we were running about two hours behind schedule. Yes, the grumbling was pretty damned intense as the minutes ticked by. In fact, people got downright snippy about the fact that we were stuck driving around Pisaq while the tour guide and M. were conducting a S&R mission. Me? I thought it was funny. I mean, on her best days, this woman is like a modern Lucy, always getting into some kind of fix. Hell, she even picked up a telenovela star in a bar on our last trip.

Once we had everyone back on the bus, we headed down the road to a little restaurant, waded through the street vendors (again), and found ourselves faced with – you guessed it – French fries! Actually, we started out with a nice asparagus soup,* then had fish and fries, with a few vegetables on the side. This was followed by a nice mango ice cream and a shot of anise flavored liquor. **

I’m beginning to think that French fries are the national dish of Peru. Either that, or they are catering to our American appetites. ***

Our day ended in Ollantaytambo: another Incan ruin, another marketplace. I broke down and bought a doll, even though I wasn’t sure how I would fit it in my backpack. A few of us decided to sit down for a drink in the Blue Puppy while waiting for the climbers to come back down from the ruins. Although one member of our group ordered an Inca Kola, I opted for a Peruvian beer called Cusquena. It was adequate, but nowhere near as good as the beers I’ve had in the Czech Republic and the Netherlands.

 

Hotel Pakaritampu, Ollantaytambo
The best hotel on our trip

 By this time, I think everyone was getting a bit sick of each other, especially after being cooped up in a bus all day. It was a bit of a relief to arrive at the Hotel Pakaritampu, with its peachy-pink buildings that stood out against the green Andean backdrop. It had an amazing courtyard, full of blues and purples, oranges and reds. Our room had a window that opened wide so that we could let the scent of lavender into the room. Even better was the full moon hanging low in the night sky. And although the dinner here was adequate (some kind of weird egg noodles with chunks of tomatoes, garlic and oil), the beds were amazing and the shower was clean.

Love,
Disenchanted

*We had a lot of this on the trip, so you can imagine how bad the bathroom smelled. Icky!

** In retrospect, I am wondering if this was some kind of absinthe, but I’m not much of a drinker (at least, not according to the standards of the ivory tower), so it’s hard to say.

*** I found a food review of a Peruvian restaurant in Utah. I’m thinking fries might actually be the national dish!