Machu Picchu. Lost city of the Incas. Home to its royal class and artisans. One of the new 7 wonders of the world.
We were going to Machu Picchu the day after we got back from our trek. We went to a tourism office they day before we left on our trek to set up a train ride up there. It was going to be $290. Yikes. It’s not the Peruvian government fleecing tourists. They jack the prices out of concern for the ruins. They are starting to feel the effect of the over 400,000 + tourists a year it gets. Upon further discussion, we said screw it. Sarah had been there and Sean, Josh and I were indifferent. I was apprehensive about future regrets I may have, but after our experiences on Choquiquerao I felt better. And Sarah didn’t think Machu Picchu would top it either. So I guess now I have an excuse to visit Peru again.
Getting back from the trek, we were spent. I had originally worked a day into the itinerary for recovery after the hike. We were going to give it up for an extra day in Machu Picchu. But as it turned out, a day off was awesome.
Josh was broken. He had a jacked up foot, bug bites and a terrible sunburn. His nipples were even chaffed. Mid morning we left him to recover and hit the town. We were on a hunt for crepes. Sarah remembered a crepe place from her first time there. I loved the food there, but was ready for anything not Peruvian. Arriving up a hill to the hip little artisan neighborhood, we found our crepe place was closed. So instead we went next door to a coffee shop.
Mmmm. I craved it. It had been days since I had a cup of coffee. Peru was known for it. I was back in a country that knew espresso. I ordered one. Then followed it with a macchiato similar to what I had grown to love in Italy. It was delicious and my senses vibrated high on caffeine.
After leaving the coffee shop we went back to the crepe place which had since opened. We all chose sweet crepes. Mine was covered with fruit and a sauce made from the local liqueur, pisco. It was sweet and delicious. The only thing that soured the experience was the music. I’m a fan of the punk-rock group Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. They are made up of members of different punk bands and do nothing but covers. It’s amusing. This restaurant had their creepy nemesis. A jazzish, female singer who took really good rock and roll songs and made them lousy lounge shit. I wanted to throw my shoe at the speaker. Joe Strummer from the Clash rolled in his grave and Axle Rose cashed a tainted royalty check.
After leaving the crepe place we wandered the local shops. Two cups of strong caffeine sat on my stomach. I had to quickly find a bathroom. Enough said.
For the next couple of hours, we sat on church stairs in Cusco’s Plaza de Armas. It was very relaxing as we watched the bustle of the city. I got punked in a battle of wits by a 10-year-old girl. We pet a pooch. And then we went and ate pizza.
Arriving back at the hostel around 3, we found Josh in the main lounge area overlooking the city. He had been sitting there at one of the long tables that stretched the length of the room for a few hours. One thing Josh isn’t so fond of is the outdoors. However, the boy likes people and meeting new personalities. As we sat there with a beer, he was constantly shouting out to new friends he had met. They would come and leave, but conversations would continue. One beer quickly turned into several. Dinnertime rolled around, but we didn’t want to give up our seats and we were meeting all these new, interesting people from around the world. We sat at that table non-stop until about midnight. We met several people who were traveling for weeks, months and sometimes even years at a time. Most were from wealthy families who were funding their travels, but some were true adventurers. I met one guy and his girlfriend who arrived in country the day before. He was an unfulfilled Madison Avenue advertising executive. She was a lawyer. One day they both said screw it, quit their jobs and went to South America to travel for 5 months. Hero.
Sarah and I were tired and hit the hay. A few minutes later we heard Josh come to the door. He stood there for a second and then we heard Sean yell out –“Hey Josh! I’m going out with these guys!” “Yeah? … You son of a bitch…” We then heard Josh’s flip flops as he grudgingly walked into the Cusco night scene. He rocked out while still in pajamas.
The next day we got up early. We had a full day ahead of us. We decided not to go to Machu Picchu, but I wouldn’t be satisfied with sitting around Cusco for three days. So we decided to go white water rafting. When we signed up for the trip we were told of two options. Class I and II rapids or class III and IV rapids. We chose the latter. All of us had been rafting at least once and we thought we could handle it. Plus I wasn’t sure how the Peruvian system compared to ours. We were fine until the night before we left. Sean had talked to a bunch of people who had gone before and they said it was more intense than they had expected. So my nerves were going during the bus ride, which took a couple of hours. I had images of us being swallowed by a river similar to the boiling, vicious-looking river we had crossed on our trek.
During the ride I heard the couple in front of us talking. I’ve been places and I can catch most languages – at least knowing if they are eastern European or whatever. I couldn’t quite catch this one though. I sounded almost Belgium. Turns out they were French Canadian. The same people who gave us Cirque du Solei. Turns out they aren’t kinda-creepy-clown-trapeze artists. They are nice people... with weird French accents.
The rafting turned out to be a lot of fun, but not nearly what I was expecting. The rapids were there and fun, but easily managed. We almost took a tumble out of the boat while attempting to surf a rapid. Good times. After lunch we headed back to Cusco. The hour-long van ride was torturous as we had obnoxious British ding bats aboard. Fart jokes and cat calls were in abundance. Jerks.
Arriving back at the hostel we found Josh at his post. We signed up for dinner there – BBQ. It was awesome. Exhaustion was starting to settle in and I retired somewhat early. Our time in Cusco was coming to an end. Tomorrow we would head to Lima.
The next morning we said goodbye to Cusco. We caught an early flight to Lima. Going from 11,000 feet to sea level during the summer in South America became quite apparent as we got off our plane. Lima was balmy.
Once again, we paid too much for a taxi. But we were in the big city now and so I expected to pay more.
Lima is a big city much like others I had been to. It lacked the soul Cusco possessed. It reminded me a lot of the non-descript outskirts of a large Italian city. Wasn’t as poor as Cusco – although we didn’t visit the slums. Our hostel was in a main tourist district - surrounded by shops and fast food restaurants.
My main mission after getting settled in was to find a place to get a shave. I hadn’t shaved in over a week and I was itching and dreading my disposable razor at home. I was in a country that still used straight razors so I thought I’d give it a try. After wandering for a half hour looking for a barber, we finally settled at a salon. There was one girl who knew how to do it and one razor. Wasn’t quite what I was expecting but it got the job done. All of us boys took our turn.
The hostel had a fourth-story roof on it. Wasn’t a spectacular view but a nice place to sit around in the sun and drink, which we did. We met a girl from New Zealand and spent the next few hours getting burned and burned. Hunger lingered and I had one more Peruvian dish I wanted to try. She was one of those travelers - somehow able to live for months at a time without working in cheap South American countries. She knew Lima pretty well and suggested we all go to a new neighborhood for dinner. We piled into a cab and went to an area near the beach. We stopped at a few places – one a cevicheria. The last of my must tries in Peru. Ceviche is raw fish that is drowned in lime juice. The acidic juice actually cooks the fish a bit. We found a little restaurant that served nothing but the stuff. It was interesting. Good but strong. They serve it with mashed sweet potatoes and corn to help mellow your pallet out between bites.
Satisfied with our appetizer we longed from something more. An afternoon of drinking in the sun left us drunk and hungry. Our new guide suggested chifa – Peruvian Chinese food. I’ve eaten Chinese food around the world. Everywhere has its own character; I can only imagine what China’s is like. We found a restaurant. It was complete with tables tucked behind curtains. Like mobsters in a private social club, we gobbled down lomein and other random Asian dishes.
The rest of the night was rock and roll. I was exhausted, not just from the day but from the trip but we trucked on through the night meeting new people and ending up in a dance club. I’m not much of a club guy – I like pubs. The thumping reggaeton and salsa started to annoy the shit out of me. Finding refuge from the dance floor and smoke on the ground floor we climbed up to a second floor balcony. Overlooking the dance floor I saw a redheaded, pale-skinned figure among a sea of black hair and brown skin. Josh was getting down. And he was a hit. At least five Peruvian girls surrounded him. The party continued late into the night.
The hostel was nice, but a bitch to sleep in. No AC meant keeping the windows open all night. The air sat still in our room, but the city didn’t. Traffic outside the window was loud and constant. I gave up on sleep early.
Our last day in Peru was spent killing time. We were catching a redeye out that night. We wandered. I was fascinated by the bus system in Lima. The buses were not uniform. They had random locations painted on the side – ranging from cities and neighborhoods nearby to Cuba. A bus would pull up, a guy would yell and would seemingly pull random people on. I don’t want to know specifically how it worked. My imagination was more fun.
We did go to a casino. There were a couple of them near our hotel. There were no tables; only slots and they used American currency. I bought $20 worth of nickels and settled in. Sean and Josh soon gave up and headed back to the hostel. Sarah and I trucked on. I turned out to be the big winner. The most I have ever won gambling was in Atlantic City last year. I had sat down at a slot just to justify a free beer. While I waited for my Heineken I played some random line. The machine went crazy. I looked over to my friends perplexed and printed out my ticket. I had won like $250. Then later that night on the craps table I won another $500. I paraded my single $500 chip around proudly and moved on. The casino barely took notice. In Peru I sat down at a new machine and played 15 cents. All of a sudden lights were going off and my siren was wailing. I looked over to a security guy and shrugged. He gave me a stern nod and thumbs up and talked into his walkie talkie. Several Peruvian women came over to my machine excitedly congratulating me. Soon an official looking woman came over with paperwork and a camera. She took a shot of the slot frame and had me sign several papers. She offered me some complimentary gift certificates. And then whipped out the cash. $60. Ballin.
We went to dinner and said goodbye to our new friends. Loaded our gear up and went outside to hail a cab. The one we picked was dilapidated, but cheap. Our back seat was broken, there were no seat belts and the car seemed as it might die soon. Our driver gave it his best, though, as he barreled through the Lima traffic while I searched for the imaginary brake at my feet. As we sped past the nightlife of Lima, salsa music played on the radio. The theme song from Indiana Jones, though, was playing in my head.
We were going to Machu Picchu the day after we got back from our trek. We went to a tourism office they day before we left on our trek to set up a train ride up there. It was going to be $290. Yikes. It’s not the Peruvian government fleecing tourists. They jack the prices out of concern for the ruins. They are starting to feel the effect of the over 400,000 + tourists a year it gets. Upon further discussion, we said screw it. Sarah had been there and Sean, Josh and I were indifferent. I was apprehensive about future regrets I may have, but after our experiences on Choquiquerao I felt better. And Sarah didn’t think Machu Picchu would top it either. So I guess now I have an excuse to visit Peru again.
Getting back from the trek, we were spent. I had originally worked a day into the itinerary for recovery after the hike. We were going to give it up for an extra day in Machu Picchu. But as it turned out, a day off was awesome.
Josh was broken. He had a jacked up foot, bug bites and a terrible sunburn. His nipples were even chaffed. Mid morning we left him to recover and hit the town. We were on a hunt for crepes. Sarah remembered a crepe place from her first time there. I loved the food there, but was ready for anything not Peruvian. Arriving up a hill to the hip little artisan neighborhood, we found our crepe place was closed. So instead we went next door to a coffee shop.
Mmmm. I craved it. It had been days since I had a cup of coffee. Peru was known for it. I was back in a country that knew espresso. I ordered one. Then followed it with a macchiato similar to what I had grown to love in Italy. It was delicious and my senses vibrated high on caffeine.
After leaving the coffee shop we went back to the crepe place which had since opened. We all chose sweet crepes. Mine was covered with fruit and a sauce made from the local liqueur, pisco. It was sweet and delicious. The only thing that soured the experience was the music. I’m a fan of the punk-rock group Me First and the Gimme Gimmes. They are made up of members of different punk bands and do nothing but covers. It’s amusing. This restaurant had their creepy nemesis. A jazzish, female singer who took really good rock and roll songs and made them lousy lounge shit. I wanted to throw my shoe at the speaker. Joe Strummer from the Clash rolled in his grave and Axle Rose cashed a tainted royalty check.
After leaving the crepe place we wandered the local shops. Two cups of strong caffeine sat on my stomach. I had to quickly find a bathroom. Enough said.
For the next couple of hours, we sat on church stairs in Cusco’s Plaza de Armas. It was very relaxing as we watched the bustle of the city. I got punked in a battle of wits by a 10-year-old girl. We pet a pooch. And then we went and ate pizza.
Arriving back at the hostel around 3, we found Josh in the main lounge area overlooking the city. He had been sitting there at one of the long tables that stretched the length of the room for a few hours. One thing Josh isn’t so fond of is the outdoors. However, the boy likes people and meeting new personalities. As we sat there with a beer, he was constantly shouting out to new friends he had met. They would come and leave, but conversations would continue. One beer quickly turned into several. Dinnertime rolled around, but we didn’t want to give up our seats and we were meeting all these new, interesting people from around the world. We sat at that table non-stop until about midnight. We met several people who were traveling for weeks, months and sometimes even years at a time. Most were from wealthy families who were funding their travels, but some were true adventurers. I met one guy and his girlfriend who arrived in country the day before. He was an unfulfilled Madison Avenue advertising executive. She was a lawyer. One day they both said screw it, quit their jobs and went to South America to travel for 5 months. Hero.
Sarah and I were tired and hit the hay. A few minutes later we heard Josh come to the door. He stood there for a second and then we heard Sean yell out –“Hey Josh! I’m going out with these guys!” “Yeah? … You son of a bitch…” We then heard Josh’s flip flops as he grudgingly walked into the Cusco night scene. He rocked out while still in pajamas.
The next day we got up early. We had a full day ahead of us. We decided not to go to Machu Picchu, but I wouldn’t be satisfied with sitting around Cusco for three days. So we decided to go white water rafting. When we signed up for the trip we were told of two options. Class I and II rapids or class III and IV rapids. We chose the latter. All of us had been rafting at least once and we thought we could handle it. Plus I wasn’t sure how the Peruvian system compared to ours. We were fine until the night before we left. Sean had talked to a bunch of people who had gone before and they said it was more intense than they had expected. So my nerves were going during the bus ride, which took a couple of hours. I had images of us being swallowed by a river similar to the boiling, vicious-looking river we had crossed on our trek.
During the ride I heard the couple in front of us talking. I’ve been places and I can catch most languages – at least knowing if they are eastern European or whatever. I couldn’t quite catch this one though. I sounded almost Belgium. Turns out they were French Canadian. The same people who gave us Cirque du Solei. Turns out they aren’t kinda-creepy-clown-trapeze artists. They are nice people... with weird French accents.
The rafting turned out to be a lot of fun, but not nearly what I was expecting. The rapids were there and fun, but easily managed. We almost took a tumble out of the boat while attempting to surf a rapid. Good times. After lunch we headed back to Cusco. The hour-long van ride was torturous as we had obnoxious British ding bats aboard. Fart jokes and cat calls were in abundance. Jerks.
Arriving back at the hostel we found Josh at his post. We signed up for dinner there – BBQ. It was awesome. Exhaustion was starting to settle in and I retired somewhat early. Our time in Cusco was coming to an end. Tomorrow we would head to Lima.
The next morning we said goodbye to Cusco. We caught an early flight to Lima. Going from 11,000 feet to sea level during the summer in South America became quite apparent as we got off our plane. Lima was balmy.
Once again, we paid too much for a taxi. But we were in the big city now and so I expected to pay more.
Lima is a big city much like others I had been to. It lacked the soul Cusco possessed. It reminded me a lot of the non-descript outskirts of a large Italian city. Wasn’t as poor as Cusco – although we didn’t visit the slums. Our hostel was in a main tourist district - surrounded by shops and fast food restaurants.
My main mission after getting settled in was to find a place to get a shave. I hadn’t shaved in over a week and I was itching and dreading my disposable razor at home. I was in a country that still used straight razors so I thought I’d give it a try. After wandering for a half hour looking for a barber, we finally settled at a salon. There was one girl who knew how to do it and one razor. Wasn’t quite what I was expecting but it got the job done. All of us boys took our turn.
The hostel had a fourth-story roof on it. Wasn’t a spectacular view but a nice place to sit around in the sun and drink, which we did. We met a girl from New Zealand and spent the next few hours getting burned and burned. Hunger lingered and I had one more Peruvian dish I wanted to try. She was one of those travelers - somehow able to live for months at a time without working in cheap South American countries. She knew Lima pretty well and suggested we all go to a new neighborhood for dinner. We piled into a cab and went to an area near the beach. We stopped at a few places – one a cevicheria. The last of my must tries in Peru. Ceviche is raw fish that is drowned in lime juice. The acidic juice actually cooks the fish a bit. We found a little restaurant that served nothing but the stuff. It was interesting. Good but strong. They serve it with mashed sweet potatoes and corn to help mellow your pallet out between bites.
Satisfied with our appetizer we longed from something more. An afternoon of drinking in the sun left us drunk and hungry. Our new guide suggested chifa – Peruvian Chinese food. I’ve eaten Chinese food around the world. Everywhere has its own character; I can only imagine what China’s is like. We found a restaurant. It was complete with tables tucked behind curtains. Like mobsters in a private social club, we gobbled down lomein and other random Asian dishes.
The rest of the night was rock and roll. I was exhausted, not just from the day but from the trip but we trucked on through the night meeting new people and ending up in a dance club. I’m not much of a club guy – I like pubs. The thumping reggaeton and salsa started to annoy the shit out of me. Finding refuge from the dance floor and smoke on the ground floor we climbed up to a second floor balcony. Overlooking the dance floor I saw a redheaded, pale-skinned figure among a sea of black hair and brown skin. Josh was getting down. And he was a hit. At least five Peruvian girls surrounded him. The party continued late into the night.
The hostel was nice, but a bitch to sleep in. No AC meant keeping the windows open all night. The air sat still in our room, but the city didn’t. Traffic outside the window was loud and constant. I gave up on sleep early.
Our last day in Peru was spent killing time. We were catching a redeye out that night. We wandered. I was fascinated by the bus system in Lima. The buses were not uniform. They had random locations painted on the side – ranging from cities and neighborhoods nearby to Cuba. A bus would pull up, a guy would yell and would seemingly pull random people on. I don’t want to know specifically how it worked. My imagination was more fun.
We did go to a casino. There were a couple of them near our hotel. There were no tables; only slots and they used American currency. I bought $20 worth of nickels and settled in. Sean and Josh soon gave up and headed back to the hostel. Sarah and I trucked on. I turned out to be the big winner. The most I have ever won gambling was in Atlantic City last year. I had sat down at a slot just to justify a free beer. While I waited for my Heineken I played some random line. The machine went crazy. I looked over to my friends perplexed and printed out my ticket. I had won like $250. Then later that night on the craps table I won another $500. I paraded my single $500 chip around proudly and moved on. The casino barely took notice. In Peru I sat down at a new machine and played 15 cents. All of a sudden lights were going off and my siren was wailing. I looked over to a security guy and shrugged. He gave me a stern nod and thumbs up and talked into his walkie talkie. Several Peruvian women came over to my machine excitedly congratulating me. Soon an official looking woman came over with paperwork and a camera. She took a shot of the slot frame and had me sign several papers. She offered me some complimentary gift certificates. And then whipped out the cash. $60. Ballin.
We went to dinner and said goodbye to our new friends. Loaded our gear up and went outside to hail a cab. The one we picked was dilapidated, but cheap. Our back seat was broken, there were no seat belts and the car seemed as it might die soon. Our driver gave it his best, though, as he barreled through the Lima traffic while I searched for the imaginary brake at my feet. As we sped past the nightlife of Lima, salsa music played on the radio. The theme song from Indiana Jones, though, was playing in my head.
1 comment:
Good words.
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