Machu Picchu and the Visiting Gringas

When I was a little kid, my mom had this anthropology book, whose title ran something to the effect of, "The Aztecs, Incas, and Mayas of America" - clearly an engrossing tome. Still, I was fascinated by it, and used to spend Saturday afternoons flipping through its pages and looking at all the pictures. I didn't understand a word of the dense writing (cut me some slack, I was only 7, and precocious as I was, it was still difficult stuff), but those pictures drew me back to them time and again.

Somewhere in there, I managed to learn about the Inca and, more specifically, about Machu Picchu. That was all it took. Ever since the first grade, I've been wanting to come to Peru and hike up this mountain and take a look at the abandoned city of the Inca. Yesterday, I finally did that. Hey kids, 15 years of dreaming, and I finally did it!

Of course, getting there necessitated rousing my lazy ass at an ungodly 4:30 in the morning, so that I could be on the train to Aguas Calientes by 6:00. Aguas Calientes is the town at the base of the mountain where Machu Picchu is located, and there are no roads to get there, so anybody wanting to visit Machu Picchu has to get on that train and sit tight. Still, the girls and I got a few hours of sleep and felt quite cheery by the time we arrived.

We made it up the mountain by about 11:15 (air-conditioned bus! oh, the luxury!) and realized, belatedly, that the guide we thought would be taking just us around actually had a large group of about 35 people. We all sighed sadly, bemoaned the fact that "we don't do tour groups," and resigned ourselves to our fate. Mario was a very sweet man, but he spoke in a barely audible monotone for a large part of the time, and, well, I'm afraid our boredom was somewhat visible. We tried to hide it, really we did, but... some things just don't work out.

People are always saying things about how Machu Picchu is this holy swirling magnetic vortex or something like that, but honestly? I didn't feel it. Maybe I'm just not in tune with nature enough, or maybe I didn't take enough (or, um, any) psychoactive drugs before arriving,

but all I felt was the incredible weight of history that I feel whenever I visit sites as old and precious and intriguing as this. I guess, in that respect, it was a minor vortex of something, but I didn't leave with any great spiritual revelations.

Of course, this is not to say that some people sure don't try their darndest. While we were having lunch in a hut we found near the visitor's center, this teenage boy came running in wearing an Inca poncho and an Inca hat and carrying a bundle of stuff that included a bunch of sticks and a dead bird, saying something really really fast in Spanish. Vivi and Holly thought he was trying to sell us something, so they just automatically said, "No gracias" like always. He looked a little hurt and went running down the hill, and we all shrugged and went back to our sandwiches. He came running back up the hill about half an hour later asking for a lighter, soaking wet, and stinking to high heaven of a mixture of incense and something else unidentifiable. Mystified, we dug around in our bags, found one, and gave it to him. He ran away, and brought it back another half an hour later. As he was leaving, Ali yelled, "So wait, what were you doing anyway?" And he said, "Well, I want to make these amulets of Inca bones, but I'm not strong enough on my own so I had to make an offering to the Pachamama so she'd help me." Vivi asked, "What, strong like sit-ups?" And the kid said, "Yes, strong muscles and mind, really fucking strong. Do any of you have any marijuana?" We didn't, so he left, and then we proceeded to see him all over town for the next two days. Naturally, it became a bit of a running joke.

So, overall, the trip to Machu Picchu was quite the success. We got a history lesson (did you know all the rocks for building it were quarried right on site?), interacted with a teenaged mystic, crawled through tunnels, saw some llamas, got a little sunburned, and had a rip-roaring good time.