Day 3
Screw you Andean rooster. It’s 4 o’clock bud. I hate you so hard. Have a heart huh? No? Fine. I’m a soldier. What’s a little sleep depravation followed by some intense physical activity?
Herbert had hot water waiting for tea. This tea stuff has to go. I’m a yank. I longed for a proper jolt to my system in the form of a strong cup of coffee. But the food was delicious. Go figure. Herbert’s smiling face was firmly planted in my heart.
We would leave the majority of our stuff at the campsite - just the bare essentials for the morning hike, a camera, some water and rain gear. After visiting the ruins, we would come back for lunch before heading back down the mountain. We were on the trail at about 6 a.m. – had about an hour and a half of hiking ahead of us. The trail had taken its toll on Sean and Josh. They were hurting but their only testament to it was a slightly slower pace.
There were clouds sitting on the mountain we were hiking on. The view Sarah and I enjoyed yesterday wouldn’t be waiting there for the boys. Sounds act funny in the mountains. As we rounded a corner, a waterfall roared in the distance. We all paused to take pictures of it as we walked by. Felix commuted past it indifferently the same way in which we commute pass the Washington monument.
Another steep, muddy hill through the jungle and 32 kilometers from where we started in Cachora we reached a sign indicating we were at Choquiquerao.
This was the last bastion of the Incans. Built shortly after Machu Picchu it had the same level of importance. Though, whereas Machu Picchu was reserved for the royal class, Choquiquerao was a full functioning city keeping an army and all classes of people. It’s more spread out than Machu Picchu, much of it still uncovered. The first western explorer to stumble upon it did so in 1710, but it remained relatively untouched until the late 90’s when formal excavations began. It receives a little more than 1 percent of the visitors that Machu Picchu does. And that number is a sharp rise from just a few years ago. The main reason is that there are no roads here. The Peruvian government wants to build tourism here. There are two different schools of thought by the people who live in the area. Hikers bring revenue to the small towns dotting the trail. At Machu Picchu, the poor that surround the area are passed by camera toting tour groups aboard busses. They don’t enjoy any of the revenue from the tourism industry. While a road may not be feasible to these ruins, they are talking of building a train. As well, these sites are sacred for the indigenous people around them. The Catholic Spaniards conquered this land, but for many of these people, the large mountains, or Apus, are still their gods. In the 16th century, the city was abandoned for reasons unknown. There was a civil war among the Incans going on when the Spanish and their allies arrived allowing the civilization to be conquered. This city was unknown to the conquerors and it became the most important political and religious center during the Incans’ last days. And then they vanished.
One last trudge up the mucky trail we reached a clearing. Through the mist, a long, 8-foot tall wall stretched ahead of us. We were there and standing on one of the three main terraces connected to the city itself. They were used for agriculture but were ceremonial as well representing the three worlds – heaven, earth, and the underworld. The moment of triumph was a quiet one. We were alone. Not a tourist to be seen. We would have the entire ruins to ourselves for the rest of the morning.
After clambering around the terraces for a few minutes, Felix led us up one of the staircases. At the top a courtyard opened up. To our left, a temple stood where the priests kept mummies in alcoves to keep watch over the town. The rest of the mountain was still shrouded in clouds beckoning us to get closer if we wanted a see.
We dropped our packs. Felix said nothing, our amazement was apparent – we didn’t need a guide right now. Like little kids on the ruins of an old fort, we immediately darted away from our guide to explore on our own. A path passed the little temple. I took it thinking my friends were right behind me. A couple of minutes later I noticed they weren’t. Turning around I could see them below me. Sitting and watching them, they all lost 15 years of age as they bounced around some old walls taking and posing for photos. After catching up, we walking a bit more up the trail until we came upon a clearing – a peak above the ruins that was lopped off and cleared of brush so the Incan priests could perform their rituals. It had a 360-degree view of the entire range around the ruins and us. It was early still, though, and we were among or above the clouds. The mountains and ruins peaked through the clouds from time to time. We scrambled for our cameras to try and catch a glimpse.
Pretty, but there is much more to see. We headed back down to the courtyard, past a relaxing Felix, over to some old houses, the most picturesque of the ruins with their vaulted walls waiting for a thatch roof to be replaced. Beyond those, a maze of other smaller dwellings spread before us. We broke the rules. Paths were a nuisance.
At one point Sarah and I turned around. The mountain was still shrouded in mist. All of a sudden, the baby Jesus or the Apus smiled on us and swept away the clouds for a few minutes leaving us a clear panorama of all the ruins. Goose bumps peaked their way on my arm as I tried to snap pictures of the scene. Like much of the trip, the grandeur can’t be caught on camera, even wit h the widest angle lens.
Climbing up and along walls, we worked our way deeper and deeper into the ruins. Some say the site is only 30% uncovered. We reached that point quickly. Sarah and I kept on passed the cleared buildings. We followed a dark, steep path into the jungle again. Alone, we could see walls of structures still waiting for an archeologist. Around us the bushes rustled. My heart was racing when a blow dart brushed my cheek sticking in to a tree to my right. Okay that part is bullshit. But there was rustling and the path only got more narrow, steep and dark. These gringos reached their turning point.
Finding our way back to the main courtyard we decided to take the llama trail to our right taking us farther up the mountain. I was in search of the Llama del Sol – an inlaid representation of a llama in a wall. I would never find it as Felix told me later that it was a 30-minute hike down the other side of the hill. No biggie. The llama was a staple beast of burden for the Incas, but this was too high for them. Felix said the Llama del Sol was a fond reminder of their favorite animal.
The path narrowed as we walked up it. There were no big trees around, only small brush. And while the clouds still shrouded most of the vistas around us, it hit me that we were walking along a very sheer mountain. It was the first time the heights got to me a little bit as I leaned to the side of the mountain. On top, sat more ruins. We ran into Sean and climbed around a bit more passing more dwellings and areas for storage.
A couple hours had passed and we were content so we made our way back down towards Felix. At the bottom, he sat us down and gave us a history lesson through his broken English. Felix is extremely smart on Peru, it’s history and current events. I was extremely grateful to have him along. Choquiquerao isn’t the latest Incan city to be uncovered. A few weeks ago, archeologists stumbled upon another in the jungle. There will be more to come.
After our lesson and after our juice boxes and snack Herbert packed for us, Felix led us back up to the scalped mountain top where we could see the ruins and terraces better now that the clouds were subsiding. Then down through some brush to the priests’ dwellings – two symmetrical temples on the end of the ruins which provided them a view to the two sides of the mountains. Two priests, two dwellings. Duality in all things, Felix said.
Our path kept on down. A machete would have been handy as we pushed branches past. Fauna embraced old walls as their own. Broken Incan tools and clay pots littered the path. Their intact brothers surely rested below waiting to be discovered. A stop at the administrative center for Choquiquerao would be our last for the cleared ruins. There, archeologists numbered the rocks making the walls. In case they fall in the future, they can now be restored. This area didn’t provide the granite stone used in the famed Incan walls of Machu Picchu and Cusco. Intricate cutting and placement didn’t keep these wall together – they relied on good ol’ mortar and stacking.
We said goodbye to the ruins and bushwhacked our way back to the main trail. As we walked back to the campsite, the clouds had cleared enough to afford Sean and Josh the view of the lower terraces Sarah and I enjoyed the day before.
Arriving back to the campsite we met an Argentinean couple, the first other tourists we’d seen on the trip and one of only 3 other groups we would see in the coming couple days. We’d see this couple again at the airport in Cusco, on the roads of Lima and again at the airport in Lima as we flew out. The path of the tourist in Peru is fairly narrow I suppose.
Herbert cooked. It was delicious. Again. We started to feel bad. We were almost too well fed. We didn’t want to be rude as we stuffed ourselves with his latest culinary awesomeness.
After lunch we hiked back down the mountain we scaled the day before. We knew where we were going so didn’t need Felix to lead the way. We all found our own pace. A thought that remained with me most of the way as we went down, down, down was that yesterday our punk asses went up, up, up. Good job. The sun came out with a force. I can’t say enough how lucky we were with the weather, misty, drizzly mornings made way for temperate weather in the afternoon. This isn’t tourist season down here and it could have been a lot wetter. Sarah and I passed a couple of young tourists on horseback going up the mountain. Their burro driver and supplies followed on foot. Silent nods were passed. We were looking pretty rough at this point. They looked fresh. Sissies.
Back down at the river we paused awhile to watch. A six-foot raging brown wave would explode before us every few seconds. Amazing. We relaxed at the checkpoint. The burros, Felix, Herbert and Santiago went past. Then another hour or so up the other side of the mountain. I could count the switchbacks we were going up from the other side of the mountain. I lost track as we were climbing them. We pulled into the same campsite we stayed in the first night. Another group was there – young Latin men on their first day of the trek. They were kind of assholes. I laughed at their future anguish and drank beer.
Herbert put Rachel Ray to shame.
Sean’s knees were done and he still had another hard day ahead of him. He looked like Fred Sanford wobbling down the mountain with his walking stick. With the guides surrounding, Felix pulled some Shaman shit and put some sort of hot boiling hot leaves on his knees. I chanted in the corner for full effect.
Day 4
Herbert baked a cake for breakfast. No shit, swear to god. A damned cake by on a one-unit burner using candlelight. I offered our futon in DC to him.
The website described the second day of this trip as the hardest. Horse shit. That day we climbed 1,500 meters. But that was on semi-fresh legs. Today was ONLY 1,300 meters, but we were tired. Sean and Josh were hurting pretty bad. They found their own pace and set off – slow and steady up the mountain. Our recollections let us down time and time again as we claimed to be past the worst of it.
At one point we came to a part of the trail that had been washed out. 2 days earlier we could hear rockslides echo through the valley. They are common occurrences during the rainy season. As we waited for Felix to catch up we could hear more rockslides, only these ones sounded like they were only a few hundred yards up the trail. A sense of uneasiness fell upon me as we climbed over the newly located earth.
Josh didn’t want to hold up the group so he got a head start. When he found a flat or somewhat downhill part, he was gone as he found his stride. As we walked along, after the hills and after rockslides, Herbert, Santiago and the burros galloped by. They ran up the mountain we huffed up. For the next 5 minutes I tried to explain to Felix what a ‘stud’ was. We even pulled out the English to Spanish dictionary. It doesn’t really translate that well.
The trail was wide and flat about 7 kilometers outside of Cachora. Sean, Sarah and I trucked along. Josh was way ahead. Felix was a hundred yards back. We noticed a little trail leading to our left. We stopped quizzically for a moment and looked back. A whistle from Felix let us know to take the smaller trail. I sure hope Josh went this way.
The trail was muddy and my non-native American and Sherlock ways kicked in as I started looking for Josh’s boot print. He was wearing old Army boots so I knew what the tread looked like. I saw the feet of burros, cows, Herberts and Santiagos, but no Joshes. It was about to be a bad day for everyone. Josh doesn’t speak Spanish and we are in the middle of nowhere. I was having visions of me hopping on horseback to gallantly go save him. Josh is a good Christian though. He went to a Christian college, has a minor in bible and is just an all around good person. I’d like to think that had something to do with him not being a lonely gringo forever implanted in the Peruvian countryside. As we came to another fork in the road we looked to our right and saw Josh in the distance trucking along. Our yells for him were drowned out by a river in between us. Felix showed up and wondered what Josh was doing. Our collective yell caught his attention and he headed back to us. The Apus like Josh.
As we walked triumphantly through the same fields we started in, the same group of men was working. Felix hollered out to them. They asked if he wanted chicha. Naturally. We plodded through the corn field and one of them met us with a gas can and tin cup. Whereas before we gingerly sipped on it, this time I eagerly took some down. If something happened, I was near a toilet and bed.
I asked Felix if we could have some cuy sometime along the trip. Sarah had a bit the first time she was there. It came to her fully intact, head, paws and all. She was fine until she started playing with it, then it made her queasy. I asked Felix if we did have it, to cut it up.
When we arrived back to the house we started in, I walked to the courtyard to wash my boots off with a hose. In the basin there was a couple puddles of blood. I grabbed my camera and went into the kitchen area were, in the pan, 2 little Guinea pigs sat frying. I let out a gasp a 7-year-old girl would have been proud of to the locals’ amusement. Obviously my request was lost in translation, because when Herbert brought out the main victory course, the cuy sat full intact surrounded by roasted potatoes. My stomach sank are the cuy smiled up at me, but Herbert beamed proudly so I showed little reaction. My friends sat around staring at me – you requested it homeboy, dig in. Luckily Felix quartered it. On my plate it looked less like a rodent and more like a leg and thigh of chicken, if chickens had little paws. The skin was tough so I didn’t eat it, but the meat wasn’t bad. It didn’t taste like chicken. It tasted like Guinea pig. I had my share. My Peruvian brethren dug in with a fury. Felix took the best part. The bit into the skull with a crush and ate the brains.
Mario was there waiting to take us back. After a detour to give a family in need a ride, we hit the road back to Cusco. Once again, we were white knuckled. I managed a nap and Mario managed to make me briefly hate Bob Marley. He had a tape player and played the same album probably 6 times at least. And I love Bob. Before arriving in Cusco, we made a deviation in a small town in the valley. Down a non-descript dirt road past some dilapidated homes was a pool built for the people of this area. The others were in pain or weren’t in the mood for a swim, but I joined Felix and Mario for a dip. The little girl came out again when I jumped in. Apparently Peruvians don’t believe in heating their pools. It was a welcome jolt to my system and managed to get a layer of grime and exhaustion off of me. Best $300 I’ve spent.
NEXT TIME – From the heights and grandeur of Machu Picchu to the urban sprawl of Lima, our adventurers manage to drink a lot of beer.
Screw you Andean rooster. It’s 4 o’clock bud. I hate you so hard. Have a heart huh? No? Fine. I’m a soldier. What’s a little sleep depravation followed by some intense physical activity?
Herbert had hot water waiting for tea. This tea stuff has to go. I’m a yank. I longed for a proper jolt to my system in the form of a strong cup of coffee. But the food was delicious. Go figure. Herbert’s smiling face was firmly planted in my heart.
We would leave the majority of our stuff at the campsite - just the bare essentials for the morning hike, a camera, some water and rain gear. After visiting the ruins, we would come back for lunch before heading back down the mountain. We were on the trail at about 6 a.m. – had about an hour and a half of hiking ahead of us. The trail had taken its toll on Sean and Josh. They were hurting but their only testament to it was a slightly slower pace.
There were clouds sitting on the mountain we were hiking on. The view Sarah and I enjoyed yesterday wouldn’t be waiting there for the boys. Sounds act funny in the mountains. As we rounded a corner, a waterfall roared in the distance. We all paused to take pictures of it as we walked by. Felix commuted past it indifferently the same way in which we commute pass the Washington monument.
Another steep, muddy hill through the jungle and 32 kilometers from where we started in Cachora we reached a sign indicating we were at Choquiquerao.
This was the last bastion of the Incans. Built shortly after Machu Picchu it had the same level of importance. Though, whereas Machu Picchu was reserved for the royal class, Choquiquerao was a full functioning city keeping an army and all classes of people. It’s more spread out than Machu Picchu, much of it still uncovered. The first western explorer to stumble upon it did so in 1710, but it remained relatively untouched until the late 90’s when formal excavations began. It receives a little more than 1 percent of the visitors that Machu Picchu does. And that number is a sharp rise from just a few years ago. The main reason is that there are no roads here. The Peruvian government wants to build tourism here. There are two different schools of thought by the people who live in the area. Hikers bring revenue to the small towns dotting the trail. At Machu Picchu, the poor that surround the area are passed by camera toting tour groups aboard busses. They don’t enjoy any of the revenue from the tourism industry. While a road may not be feasible to these ruins, they are talking of building a train. As well, these sites are sacred for the indigenous people around them. The Catholic Spaniards conquered this land, but for many of these people, the large mountains, or Apus, are still their gods. In the 16th century, the city was abandoned for reasons unknown. There was a civil war among the Incans going on when the Spanish and their allies arrived allowing the civilization to be conquered. This city was unknown to the conquerors and it became the most important political and religious center during the Incans’ last days. And then they vanished.
One last trudge up the mucky trail we reached a clearing. Through the mist, a long, 8-foot tall wall stretched ahead of us. We were there and standing on one of the three main terraces connected to the city itself. They were used for agriculture but were ceremonial as well representing the three worlds – heaven, earth, and the underworld. The moment of triumph was a quiet one. We were alone. Not a tourist to be seen. We would have the entire ruins to ourselves for the rest of the morning.
After clambering around the terraces for a few minutes, Felix led us up one of the staircases. At the top a courtyard opened up. To our left, a temple stood where the priests kept mummies in alcoves to keep watch over the town. The rest of the mountain was still shrouded in clouds beckoning us to get closer if we wanted a see.
We dropped our packs. Felix said nothing, our amazement was apparent – we didn’t need a guide right now. Like little kids on the ruins of an old fort, we immediately darted away from our guide to explore on our own. A path passed the little temple. I took it thinking my friends were right behind me. A couple of minutes later I noticed they weren’t. Turning around I could see them below me. Sitting and watching them, they all lost 15 years of age as they bounced around some old walls taking and posing for photos. After catching up, we walking a bit more up the trail until we came upon a clearing – a peak above the ruins that was lopped off and cleared of brush so the Incan priests could perform their rituals. It had a 360-degree view of the entire range around the ruins and us. It was early still, though, and we were among or above the clouds. The mountains and ruins peaked through the clouds from time to time. We scrambled for our cameras to try and catch a glimpse.
Pretty, but there is much more to see. We headed back down to the courtyard, past a relaxing Felix, over to some old houses, the most picturesque of the ruins with their vaulted walls waiting for a thatch roof to be replaced. Beyond those, a maze of other smaller dwellings spread before us. We broke the rules. Paths were a nuisance.
At one point Sarah and I turned around. The mountain was still shrouded in mist. All of a sudden, the baby Jesus or the Apus smiled on us and swept away the clouds for a few minutes leaving us a clear panorama of all the ruins. Goose bumps peaked their way on my arm as I tried to snap pictures of the scene. Like much of the trip, the grandeur can’t be caught on camera, even wit h the widest angle lens.
Climbing up and along walls, we worked our way deeper and deeper into the ruins. Some say the site is only 30% uncovered. We reached that point quickly. Sarah and I kept on passed the cleared buildings. We followed a dark, steep path into the jungle again. Alone, we could see walls of structures still waiting for an archeologist. Around us the bushes rustled. My heart was racing when a blow dart brushed my cheek sticking in to a tree to my right. Okay that part is bullshit. But there was rustling and the path only got more narrow, steep and dark. These gringos reached their turning point.
Finding our way back to the main courtyard we decided to take the llama trail to our right taking us farther up the mountain. I was in search of the Llama del Sol – an inlaid representation of a llama in a wall. I would never find it as Felix told me later that it was a 30-minute hike down the other side of the hill. No biggie. The llama was a staple beast of burden for the Incas, but this was too high for them. Felix said the Llama del Sol was a fond reminder of their favorite animal.
The path narrowed as we walked up it. There were no big trees around, only small brush. And while the clouds still shrouded most of the vistas around us, it hit me that we were walking along a very sheer mountain. It was the first time the heights got to me a little bit as I leaned to the side of the mountain. On top, sat more ruins. We ran into Sean and climbed around a bit more passing more dwellings and areas for storage.
A couple hours had passed and we were content so we made our way back down towards Felix. At the bottom, he sat us down and gave us a history lesson through his broken English. Felix is extremely smart on Peru, it’s history and current events. I was extremely grateful to have him along. Choquiquerao isn’t the latest Incan city to be uncovered. A few weeks ago, archeologists stumbled upon another in the jungle. There will be more to come.
After our lesson and after our juice boxes and snack Herbert packed for us, Felix led us back up to the scalped mountain top where we could see the ruins and terraces better now that the clouds were subsiding. Then down through some brush to the priests’ dwellings – two symmetrical temples on the end of the ruins which provided them a view to the two sides of the mountains. Two priests, two dwellings. Duality in all things, Felix said.
Our path kept on down. A machete would have been handy as we pushed branches past. Fauna embraced old walls as their own. Broken Incan tools and clay pots littered the path. Their intact brothers surely rested below waiting to be discovered. A stop at the administrative center for Choquiquerao would be our last for the cleared ruins. There, archeologists numbered the rocks making the walls. In case they fall in the future, they can now be restored. This area didn’t provide the granite stone used in the famed Incan walls of Machu Picchu and Cusco. Intricate cutting and placement didn’t keep these wall together – they relied on good ol’ mortar and stacking.
We said goodbye to the ruins and bushwhacked our way back to the main trail. As we walked back to the campsite, the clouds had cleared enough to afford Sean and Josh the view of the lower terraces Sarah and I enjoyed the day before.
Arriving back to the campsite we met an Argentinean couple, the first other tourists we’d seen on the trip and one of only 3 other groups we would see in the coming couple days. We’d see this couple again at the airport in Cusco, on the roads of Lima and again at the airport in Lima as we flew out. The path of the tourist in Peru is fairly narrow I suppose.
Herbert cooked. It was delicious. Again. We started to feel bad. We were almost too well fed. We didn’t want to be rude as we stuffed ourselves with his latest culinary awesomeness.
After lunch we hiked back down the mountain we scaled the day before. We knew where we were going so didn’t need Felix to lead the way. We all found our own pace. A thought that remained with me most of the way as we went down, down, down was that yesterday our punk asses went up, up, up. Good job. The sun came out with a force. I can’t say enough how lucky we were with the weather, misty, drizzly mornings made way for temperate weather in the afternoon. This isn’t tourist season down here and it could have been a lot wetter. Sarah and I passed a couple of young tourists on horseback going up the mountain. Their burro driver and supplies followed on foot. Silent nods were passed. We were looking pretty rough at this point. They looked fresh. Sissies.
Back down at the river we paused awhile to watch. A six-foot raging brown wave would explode before us every few seconds. Amazing. We relaxed at the checkpoint. The burros, Felix, Herbert and Santiago went past. Then another hour or so up the other side of the mountain. I could count the switchbacks we were going up from the other side of the mountain. I lost track as we were climbing them. We pulled into the same campsite we stayed in the first night. Another group was there – young Latin men on their first day of the trek. They were kind of assholes. I laughed at their future anguish and drank beer.
Herbert put Rachel Ray to shame.
Sean’s knees were done and he still had another hard day ahead of him. He looked like Fred Sanford wobbling down the mountain with his walking stick. With the guides surrounding, Felix pulled some Shaman shit and put some sort of hot boiling hot leaves on his knees. I chanted in the corner for full effect.
Day 4
Herbert baked a cake for breakfast. No shit, swear to god. A damned cake by on a one-unit burner using candlelight. I offered our futon in DC to him.
The website described the second day of this trip as the hardest. Horse shit. That day we climbed 1,500 meters. But that was on semi-fresh legs. Today was ONLY 1,300 meters, but we were tired. Sean and Josh were hurting pretty bad. They found their own pace and set off – slow and steady up the mountain. Our recollections let us down time and time again as we claimed to be past the worst of it.
At one point we came to a part of the trail that had been washed out. 2 days earlier we could hear rockslides echo through the valley. They are common occurrences during the rainy season. As we waited for Felix to catch up we could hear more rockslides, only these ones sounded like they were only a few hundred yards up the trail. A sense of uneasiness fell upon me as we climbed over the newly located earth.
Josh didn’t want to hold up the group so he got a head start. When he found a flat or somewhat downhill part, he was gone as he found his stride. As we walked along, after the hills and after rockslides, Herbert, Santiago and the burros galloped by. They ran up the mountain we huffed up. For the next 5 minutes I tried to explain to Felix what a ‘stud’ was. We even pulled out the English to Spanish dictionary. It doesn’t really translate that well.
The trail was wide and flat about 7 kilometers outside of Cachora. Sean, Sarah and I trucked along. Josh was way ahead. Felix was a hundred yards back. We noticed a little trail leading to our left. We stopped quizzically for a moment and looked back. A whistle from Felix let us know to take the smaller trail. I sure hope Josh went this way.
The trail was muddy and my non-native American and Sherlock ways kicked in as I started looking for Josh’s boot print. He was wearing old Army boots so I knew what the tread looked like. I saw the feet of burros, cows, Herberts and Santiagos, but no Joshes. It was about to be a bad day for everyone. Josh doesn’t speak Spanish and we are in the middle of nowhere. I was having visions of me hopping on horseback to gallantly go save him. Josh is a good Christian though. He went to a Christian college, has a minor in bible and is just an all around good person. I’d like to think that had something to do with him not being a lonely gringo forever implanted in the Peruvian countryside. As we came to another fork in the road we looked to our right and saw Josh in the distance trucking along. Our yells for him were drowned out by a river in between us. Felix showed up and wondered what Josh was doing. Our collective yell caught his attention and he headed back to us. The Apus like Josh.
As we walked triumphantly through the same fields we started in, the same group of men was working. Felix hollered out to them. They asked if he wanted chicha. Naturally. We plodded through the corn field and one of them met us with a gas can and tin cup. Whereas before we gingerly sipped on it, this time I eagerly took some down. If something happened, I was near a toilet and bed.
I asked Felix if we could have some cuy sometime along the trip. Sarah had a bit the first time she was there. It came to her fully intact, head, paws and all. She was fine until she started playing with it, then it made her queasy. I asked Felix if we did have it, to cut it up.
When we arrived back to the house we started in, I walked to the courtyard to wash my boots off with a hose. In the basin there was a couple puddles of blood. I grabbed my camera and went into the kitchen area were, in the pan, 2 little Guinea pigs sat frying. I let out a gasp a 7-year-old girl would have been proud of to the locals’ amusement. Obviously my request was lost in translation, because when Herbert brought out the main victory course, the cuy sat full intact surrounded by roasted potatoes. My stomach sank are the cuy smiled up at me, but Herbert beamed proudly so I showed little reaction. My friends sat around staring at me – you requested it homeboy, dig in. Luckily Felix quartered it. On my plate it looked less like a rodent and more like a leg and thigh of chicken, if chickens had little paws. The skin was tough so I didn’t eat it, but the meat wasn’t bad. It didn’t taste like chicken. It tasted like Guinea pig. I had my share. My Peruvian brethren dug in with a fury. Felix took the best part. The bit into the skull with a crush and ate the brains.
Mario was there waiting to take us back. After a detour to give a family in need a ride, we hit the road back to Cusco. Once again, we were white knuckled. I managed a nap and Mario managed to make me briefly hate Bob Marley. He had a tape player and played the same album probably 6 times at least. And I love Bob. Before arriving in Cusco, we made a deviation in a small town in the valley. Down a non-descript dirt road past some dilapidated homes was a pool built for the people of this area. The others were in pain or weren’t in the mood for a swim, but I joined Felix and Mario for a dip. The little girl came out again when I jumped in. Apparently Peruvians don’t believe in heating their pools. It was a welcome jolt to my system and managed to get a layer of grime and exhaustion off of me. Best $300 I’ve spent.
NEXT TIME – From the heights and grandeur of Machu Picchu to the urban sprawl of Lima, our adventurers manage to drink a lot of beer.
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