Machu Picchu

City of the Ancient Gods

My traveler friends tell me they planned make a trip to this ancient city in the mountains. They had a five year plan during which they will save, research, train (as in exercise) and prepare for the trip. When it happened for John and me two years ago, we only had two weeks to prepare. A good friend of ours called in mid December and said he was in Brazil and asked if we could catch up somewhere for Christmas. He didn't have a US visa and John didn't have a Brazilian visa. We decided on Costa Rica which was right in the middle but I needed a visa. After an hour of checking, we found that Peru was the one country we all could go to without a visa. So Machu Picchu it was.

We also discovered that we did not need 5 years or even a year to plan a trip there. We found a great hotel called "Libertador Palacio del Inka" in Cusco for $200 a night, online. Our first choice was Monasterio, originally built as a monastery in 1592, but it was fully booked. We got our airtickets online, $1,000 apiece. We booked the luxury Hiram Bingham train from Cusco to Machu Picchu for $500 each, online. And we made a reservation at Inkaterra Resort for $560 a night, also online. God bless the internet!

And that was how we landed in Cusco on Christmas Day. Our experiences in Cusco are documented in Cusco, Peru. This article is all about amazing Machu Picchu. We were at the train station bright and early to catch the train. There are a couple of trains that ply the route to the ruins. There is The Vistadome with panoramic windows on all sides and there is The Backpackers, a comfortable and affordable service. And then, there is the Hiram Bingham, a train named after the European explorer who discovered Machu Picchu.

We were 'checked in' by a pair of smartly dressed ladies and served mimosas by tuxedoed attendants. While we sipped our drinks, a group of peruvian dancers entertained us with a colorful cultural performance. It was delightful. Despite this display of class, we were still taken aback by the sophisticated interior of the train. We were surrounded by polished wood, gleaming silverware and pure-white linen. It was like entering an upscale restaurant.

Brunch was served by white-gloved waiters, a delectable corn tamale with minute roast of alpaca loin followed by Swiss chard and Andean cheese cannelloni. We finished off the sumptuous meal with small caramelized banana pomponnette with white chocolate and ginger sorbet as the train chugged past rustic villages and terracotta buildings that blended perfectly into the surroundings. Hardworking peasants took a break from their daily chores to wave at us. And we waved back enthusiastically.

One thing that surprised me was that the Hiram Bingham took us downhill instead of up because Cusco was 11,000 feet above sea level, 3,000 feet higher than Machu Picchu. Along the way we saw the more adventurous souls making their way along the Incan Trail. John swore that the next time he came to Cuzco, he would do the hike. And I swore I would still take the HIram Bingham.

Three and a half exhilarating hours later, our train trundled into Aguas Calientes station. The Inkaterra bellhops were standing by to cart our luggage to the hotel and then we were whisked off to a bus that would take us up the Andean mountains. As the ancient bus wound its way up, negotiating the hairpin turns, we were lost in the spectacular landscape unfolding before our eyes. Cameras clicked non-stop because every scene was more breathtaking than the last. Amen to digital technology.

Another thirty minutes and we arrived at the enigmatic city of Machu Picchu, albeit in ruins. The guide who came with us on the train, told us that Machu PIcchu (meaning 'Old Peak' in Quechua language) was actually rediscovered by Hiram Bingham because when he arrived at the ruins, it was already occupied by a couple of farmers. Obviously, they weren't well-known enough to make it into history.

Our first impression of this ancient city. It was huge. We have all seen photos of the site with its terraces and stone structures but nothing prepared me for the size of the actual city which was about 5 sq/miles, hand carved into the granite of the mountain during the 15th century. It must have been the best kept secret of that time because it was invisible from below yet in its heydays, it was a bustling, self-sufficient city. The terraces yielded crops that fed the entire population and remarkable plumbing (grooves carved into the stone) channeled water from the natural springs to palaces, temples, baths and homes. The big question is how long did it take them to carve out the thousands of steps with their hands? The next big question is how many mathematical geniuses did it take to assemble the irregular stone blocks into solid building structures without the help cement? Seriously, these blocks were merely fitted together with grooves and tongues, just like a jigsaw puzzle. And it remains wonderfully preserved to this day. Go figure.

The tough lives of the Incans were definitely offset by the beauty of the place they lived in. Imagine waking up to such stunning views every morning, that no skyscraper could ever hope to obstruct. It did not matter where you stood, you were always this close to heaven. The image of those majestic mountains with low-hung clouds is etched in my memory.

The guide explained a number of important structures but the one that stayed with me was the Intihuatana stone (the hitching post of the sun). The rock is aligned to the sun at the two equinoxes and said to have spiritual powers. There were several Intihuatana stones in several sacred locations but most had been destroyed by the Spaniards. They never found Machu Picchu though, and this Intihuatana stone stands proudly at the mountaintop waiting for the sun.

While climbing the ruins was sometimes harrowing, especially when a number of the steps were steep with one side attached to a wall and the other side a sheer drop, it was nothing compared to climbing the peak of Wayna Picchu, the towering mountain in the backdrop. There was talk among my friends of checking it out the next morning and that was enough to make my knees quake.

At the end of the tour, we had tea at the Sanctuary Lodge, overlooking the ruins. All of us were so ecstatic that we were determined to get out there again in the morning. And with that promise we returned to Inkaterra.

Inkaterra, although second choice, proved to be first-rate. The boutique hotel, also called Machu Picchu Pueblo Hotel, is made up of 85 quaint cottages spread out in an Andean-style village which fit nicely into the setting. It promotes itself as "a Garden of Eden where waterfalls and streams gently cascade through acres of orchids" and every word of it is true. From the stone casitas to the wood-burning fireplaces within, we were immersed in the spirit of Machu Picchu. The dining hall was all glass on three sides, looking out into a cloud forest. I have to say I couldn't remember what I ate but it was one the most enjoyable meals of my life.

The next morning, after a refreshing night's sleep, we took in an early morning tour of the ruins and encountered the magic flute. After that we wandered through the street bazaar which was ablaze with the rich colors of the rainbow. Beautiful handcrafted rugs and table cloths amidst alpaca sweaters adorned with llamas. John haggled for a dainty silver and shell necklace for me and a beautiful alpaca tapestry for himself. Sweet spoils to remember Machu Picchu by. We returned to Inkaterra for a couple of relaxing massages.

After lunch, it was time to say goodbye to Inkaterra. It rained as if the mountains did not want us to leave. Back on the Hiram Bingham, we sat at the bar, drinking our Pisco Sour, a cocktail mix of pisco, lemon, egg white, syrup and bitters. Instead of the lively chatter of four old friends, we were each lost in our own thoughts as the strains of El Condor Pasa traveled through the train compartments. For me, it was an experience I will treasure always. As I looked out into the rain, I said a silent hasta la vista.

The Magic Flute It was an early misty morning in Machu Picchu, hours before the trains would unload the hordes of tourists that would invade the ruins. There was a hush in the air, almost reverent. We had the place all to ourselves except for some wandering llamas. It could not be more surreal. Then our guide pulled out his quena and started to play a haunting Incan melody as wisps of mist swirled around him. Chills ran down my spine. We watched entranced as the music transported us back in time. I did not want that moment to end. And it didn't for a long time as we followed the flautist around the ruins. Later, my husband bought the quena for $20 and it hangs in our living room, a reminder of that moment. It is our own magic flute.

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