2/14/16, “My
Incan Valentine”
Machu
Picchu, Peru (The Sanctuary of Machu Picchu)
Vistas don’t
get much more iconic than this one. I am
situated by the guardhouse of the Incan City of Machu Picchu, looking down at
the sanctuary straight ahead, with smoke covered mountains to either side, yet
the sanctuary is completely clear. This
vista is another vista I will remember for my entire life. The other New7 Wonders that I have thus far
visited are Petra (just a bunch of carved stones), the Taj Mahal (just a big
tomb), the Great Wall (well, that was pretty great), and Chichen-Itza (just a
big pyramid). This wins, by a
longshot. I don’t see Christ the Redeemer
(just a big statue) or the Colosseum (just a big sports stadium) competing. This is my “Grand Canyon moment.”
There is only one cultural vista that I have
ever seen that could come close: The Sphinx and Great Pyramid of Giza. However, that was surrounded by a
desert. This is surrounded by mountains,
smoke-covered mountains that would put the ones in North Carolina to
shame. I can barely breathe, not because
the view is breath-taking, but because of the elevation. It is worth it. It is so worth it. Two flights, a taxi, a train, a bus, and a
bit of a hike. I left the cigar shop 36
hours ago. This was no easy
journey. It was so worth it.
After I closed last night, I headed down for
the drink service, and they were serving this Peruvian brandy. At the elevation, the alcohol got to me very
quickly. Between the beer and the two
servings of the Peruvian brandy (both pure and in a sour), I was toasted,
utterly and royally toasted. I didn’t
care. It wasn’t even 7 PM, but I had no
activities planned for the night. I
didn’t even plan to go to sleep until 11:11 PM.
I could relax and enjoy myself.
So what if I was a little hungover for my early morning hike. If I recount all the alcohol I had in 2016
thus far, I don’t think it was more than the equivalent of six servings. In other words, I wound up drinking more
tonight than I had thus far in all of 2016 combined. Okay, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but it’s
close.
I went upstairs to publish my
entry, relaxed a bit, then headed down for dinner. Dinner was included with my room, as was a
bottle of wine. I looked through the
menu and found what I wanted: loin of alpaca.
Jackpot! I opted for that for my
mine course along with an Andean appetizer sampler. Perf.
Wow, the altitude is really getting to me. I can barely think straight. The appetizer sampler was delish, and I
announced, “63,” with my first bite. It
had some local sauces, which I soaked up with my remaining bread.
Then came the alpaca, along with more cheese
ravioli and fries. I had gotten my
chopsticks for just this occasion. It is
possible that I have become the first person to ever eat alpaca in Peru with
chopsticks, though there is a bit of a tradition of Chinese cuisine here, so
maybe the Chinese restaurants serve alpaca.
I messaged back and forth with a variety of friends as I ate my
meal. I only made it through two glasses
of wine during my meal, but I was completely out of it.
I got a Peruvian appetizer sampler for
dessert. Then the coffee and petit
fours. I ate way too much to say the
least. I headed back to my room to get
my computer bag and went outside with the rest of my bottle of wine. I lit up a Partagas, this time finally
announcing “63” for real, as I had my cigar, and watched the Republican
debate. Trump embarrassed himself in the
first half. He called both Bush brothers
liars, blamed the elder brother for 9/11, refusing to give him credit keeping
us safe for 7 years afterwards. I need
to pause now, as I am hogging the vista apparently.
Okay, I have
relocated to a slightly less classic photo spot, but the vista is just as
good. Anyway, the younger Bush brother
did a tremendous job defending his family against Trump’s attacks. While Trump may have said what a large
portion of the country feels, it is no way to win a Republican primary, but he
has defied every bit of conventional wisdom, so who knows. Apparently the online polls say he’s won the
debate. It’s actually final, after my
slight relocate, the vista became more interesting again, as I was starting to
tire of staring at the same angle for so long, though the fog is starting to
come back in. The two Senators
continued to show their brilliance, but President Obama is a brilliant man,
too, and they spent a lot of time arguing about who was a bigger supporter of
deportation, both trying to eschew their previous stances on amnesty. Dr. Carson once more proved he had no
business running for President, and I expect that this is the time we’ll see
him on a debate stage.
That just left
Governor Kasich, by far the most electable candidate, possibly the only man on
that stage that can unite both parties again, just as he has been doing for
decades. Democrats love him, and he’d
deliver the entire Midwest and coal region.
However, tonight was the first time I began to believe that he could win
a Republican primary. He came in second
in New Hampshire, and he has a good shot of a top three finish in South Carolina. If Trump collapses, Kasich might be able to
miraculously pull of a victory, and a President Kasich will bring our country
together once more. As the debate drew
to a close, I headed back inside, and I figured I had finished the bottle of
wine by then. Not even close. It wasn’t even half empty.
I fell asleep shortly after 11:11 PM, waking
up around 5:30 AM. I was still full from
dinner, so I just got dressed, grabbing a piece of bread and some coffee, which
I ate as I walked to the gate. I expected
it to be pretty much empty at 6 AM. No
such luck. Two huge buses had pulled in,
and the entrance was filled with tourists.
I got to the gate at 6 AM, but one problem: the fog. I knew that I would not be able to see any
kind of meaningful sunrise, but I hoped that I would still get a nice
vista. I began the grueling hike, up a
steeped and curved path, stopping multiple times to catch my breath. I finally made it to the guardhouse, just as
the fog started to dissipate. There it
was. That iconic vista. I was floored.
There was no smoking in the sanctuary, so I
knew I would have to be clever with my ceremonial picture. I waited until no one was watching, got my
water bottle ready, and lit up a Romeo y Julieta that came in a tubo. I snapped a few ceremonial pictures and sat
down at the viewpoint, where I proceeded to write this entry. Within six minutes, I was told to put out the
cigar. That was fine. It had served its purpose. I could finish it back at the hotel. I put the cigar back in the tubo. I continued to write my entry until I was
told to relocated, where I once more continued the entry, which I will now
close so that I can head down to the sanctuary.
Aboard
Vistadome 204, En route Machu Picchu-Ollantaytambo
Well, this
train ride is in sharp contrast to the one I took yesterday on my journey to
the sanctuary. It is louder, more
crowded, and just more rambunctious.
Also, apparently today is some kind of festival (not Valentine’s Day,
something else), so there is a costumed dancer going up and down the
aisle. Everyone else seems to be
enjoying it, I’m not. I just want to get
to my hotel in Lima. It is very similar
to the feeling I felt a year ago today when I just wanted to get to my hotel in
El Paso, though it is for very different reasons. A year ago today, I was actually
depressed. Today, I’m just tired and
exhausted.
I need earplugs or something. Okay, the dancing has stopped, I think. Now they’re trying to sell alpaca stuff. It is literally so loud I can barely
think. Oh, fuck, they’re doing some kind
of fashion show with the alpaca clothes.
After I closed, I headed down to the sanctuary, but I didn’t imagine how
it could be more magical than the vista from the guardhouse. It wasn’t.
Besides, I was just wanted to get out of there so that I could finish my
cigar and have some breakfast. I
wandered down and walked around a bit before taking the first turn back to the
exit.
I then waited at the entrance with
my cigar until the gift shop opened. Meanwhile,
I posted to social media and messaged my friends. Being the only gift shop at the sanctuary, it
was, of course, overpriced, so I only got the basics: two replicas, two
keychains, a t-shirt, and a pin.
I then
headed back to the hotel and retrieved my glass of wine that I had left
unfinished from last night. I brought it
outside with me and finished my cigar, as I responded to a thread of emails
about the debate with my father and his friends. Oops, that is vague. The people on the thread of emails were my
father and his friends. The topic was
last night’s Republican debate.
I then
headed down for breakfast, still working on that same glass of wine. The spread was almost the same as the spread
from tea yesterday afternoon, and I got a plate of breads, cheeses, and
meats. I ate that with my wine and some
coffee. This is hell. This is literally hell. This noisy fashion show is so unconducive to
me writing my entry. The walking, the
clapping, the loud music, the hooting.
It certainly doesn’t want to make me buy any alpaca products, though I
suppose I could use a new scarf.
The
next course was the hot food, obviously I chose the Andean sampler, which had a
bunch of good stuff on it. I also had to
get the desserts, as they were soon closing the buffet. I would save that for later. As I ate, I messaged back and forth with my
Antarctica friend about our mutual experiences in Machu Picchu. Also, Facebook had a special feature for
Valentine’s Day, whereby you could “wrap” a message to be sent in the messenger
app. I shared with her some Valentine’s
Day sentiments, of which she was very appreciative.
After breakfast, I went back up to my room
and called my parents to discuss both the debate last night and Machu Picchu
this morning. Not having enough time for
another cigar, I relaxed a bit before getting ready to leave, munching on my
desserts meanwhile and starting another glass of wine. There were still about two full glasses left
in the bottle. I checked out and went to
the bus stop. The bellboy from the hotel
took my bags to the bus stop. He told me
to sit down. There was a long line, and
he said he would wait on line for me.
Now that’s good service! He got a
tip for sure.
It was a little before
noon by the time I got to the village, and I wasn’t hungry enough for lunch,
which would have been guinea pig, I shit you not. I found a souvenir shop, where I loaded up on
other souvenirs, for less than I spent at the Official souvenir shop. I was so exhausted, and my mobility was
limited at this point, both by the heat and the elevation, so exploring seemed
a frutal quest, especially since I now had everything I needed. The agent from the hotel had taken my
suitcase and coat to the train station.
I just had my computer bag with me.
I found a nice quiet spot to enjoy a Davidoff Special R, one of my
favs. It was in the shade, but I was
still overwhelmed. Then the festival
started, costumed people walking down the streets, people having water
fights. It was just crazy. I continued my cigar before I made my way to
the train station, where the hotel’s agent was waiting with my stuff.
The hotel was going to arrange a taxi to take
me from the train station to Cusco for a bit then to the airport. The price they had quoted just to the airport
was perfectly reasonable, actually less than I paid on the journey to the
sanctuary. The agent had a number
written on a sheet of paper, which was about twice than the original number. That seemed reasonable enough to include the
stop in Cusco. I was then informed that
that was in American dollars, not Peruvian sols. Not happening. That was four times what it should have
been. I asked how much to just go to the
airport, the price did not go down much.
We made our way to the train, and he kept calling the hotel, seeing what
they could do. I asked if I could just
get a taxi at the train station in Ollantaytambo. He said I could, but some of the drivers
there are dishonest. Dishonest?!? As if trying to charge me four times what the
price should be was honest? Eventually
he was able to confirm a driver would pick me up at the original price. I suppose I’ll have to negotiate with him
directly to go into Cusco. I just need
to light up a cigar and take a ceremonial picture. That’s it.
I got on the crowded and loud train and instantly knew that I was in
hell. I sat down in my seat and started
to write another chapter in my novel, or, more accurately, novella. I have now written three of my anticipated
four chapters, each chapter should be 1000 words or less, unless I expand them,
and I have left plenty of room in each chapter for expansion. I then proceeded to write this entry, which I
will now close, as I believe we will soon be arriving at Ollantaytambo. It certainly appears that we are encountering
more signs of civilization.
Alejandro
Velasco Astete International Airport, Peru (CUZ)
Ah, perfect
timing, and just enough time for a brief entry before I fly to Lima. Everything went off without a hitch. As soon as we disembarked at Ollantaytambo,
my taxi driver was waiting for me at the entrance to the train station. He took my bags, and we went to the parking
lot. He got the car, and we got on the
road. I figured we had a major time
crunch. It was 3:10 PM, my flight, the
last flight to Lima, was at 7:40 PM. I
figured I needed to be at the airport at least an hour early, and the ride from
the Cusco airport to Ollantaytambo yesterday had taken over two hours.
Best case I figured, I’d have enough time for
a ceremonial picture and then straight to the airport. My driver said the ride would be about an
hour and a half. If that was true, it
would be great. He said the best spot to
stop would be the Plaza de las Armas.
That sounded good. It was
raining, but the rain soon stopped, and I lit up a Jaime Garcia. My driver did not speak a word of English it
seemed, but my Spanish was good enough for us to communicate during our time
together. It was a scenic drive that I
had missed on the way in.
We got to
Cusco a little before 5 PM, right on schedule, but there was a festival (or
carnival, as he called it) on for Saint Valentine’s Day. Apparently they celebrate it a little
differently than we do in the States. At
this point, I had two very pressing biological needs that would need to be
abated before my ceremonial picture. One
of them was hunger, the other could easily be taken care of at the restaurant
as well. We navigated the traffic, him
dropping me off by the plaza at around 5:10 PM.
I figured that gave me close to an hour, enough time for a meal, a
cigar, ceremonial pictures, and souvenirs, and to be back at the car by 6:10 PM
and the airport by 6:40 PM. I would need
to find a restaurant where I could smoke to condense time.
As I mentioned earlier, I wanted to try the
local specialty that my Antarctica friend had recommended to me: guinea
pig. Again, I shit you not. I found a restaurant where I could
smoke. It had a balcony, and it served
guinea pig. Perf. I ordered my guinea pig, along with some
fries and an “Inca Cola.” I went back to
my seat and lit up a beat up Montecristo.
Everything was going perfectly.
The waitress soon brought me a plate with a giant rodent on it. It tasted exactly as my friend had warned me:
rodenty. There was Wi-Fi at the
restaurant, so I was able to get caught up while I ate. My cigar had gone out, my lighter was empty,
and I had run out of matches. After I
paid my check, I asked the waitress for a lighter or matches. She found some matches and lit my cigar for
me right in the restaurant, not that any cared.
I went down to take some ceremonial pictures and posted one, still in
range of the restaurant’s Wi-Fi. I then
went in search of souvenirs. I just
wanted a keychain, and I found one, but I also bought some Peruvian
cigars. I got back to the car right on
target, at 6:10 PM. The ride to the
airport was very short, and we were there before 6:30 PM. He told me the price, much more reasonable
than I expected, so I gave him a nice tip, 20%.
I checked in and, to my surprise, they also gave me my ticket to
Lima. I asked for an emergency exit
aisle. They had one. Perf.
Reader, note that, I have hardly spoken a word of English since I got on
the train at Machu Picchu. Even to
people who were clearly Anglican and speaking English to me, I spoke Spanish,
unable to transition out of speaking Spanish.
Everything I have recounted in this entry was spoken in Spanish, other
than my electronic communications. I
went through security, and then I had to walk down a flight of stairs to the
gate, which seemed really sketchy. I
then found a seat, where I proceeded to write this entry, which I will now
close, as it is almost time to start boarding.
Lima, Peru
There are so
many similarities between my last 24 hours here in Lima and my last 24 hours in
Buenos Aires last January, and not just because I am smoking my 2014 Christmas
Pipe, and not just because I am in the center of the Capital of a large South
American country at the end of an epic trip.
Actually, wait, those are the main similarities. Other than these two South American capitals,
I also smoked this pipe in Giza, but there was no view in Giza, so I suppose
this wins, since the Plaza de las Armas here is much more interesting than the
place I sat in Buenos Aires. Actually, Lima
as a whole seems to be more interesting than Buenos Aires, so I relish my day
in the capital tomorrow.
I can stay up
as late as I want tonight and sleep as late as I want tomorrow and still have
plenty of time to explore. I chose a
shitty hotel in a great location, but I won’t spend much waking hours in the
hotel. Location is what matters. Everything is right here. Oh, right, I wanted to expound on my use of
the term, “The Capital,” and I’m not sure if it’s a Hunger Games thing or if I
just use it because that’s how I think of the capital city. Often if I’m describing a trip to someone,
I’ll make reference to “spending a night in the capital” or “heading back to
the capital.” That’s all Lima is to me:
the capital of Peru. No, my use of the
term predates my renewed interest in the Hunger Games, though I do not doubt
that Mockingjay cemented my use of it.
Anyway, it seems that my arrival in the capital with a full day of
nothing planned other than exploring the capital has come to signify the end of
a trip. Buenos Aires, of course, provides
an excellent example, but I had similar last day experiences in Panama City,
Tehran, Delhi, and I would have had one in San Jose if I hadn’t chosen to fly
home earlier instead.
After I closed at
the airport, we soon boarded. It was a
big plane, but we had to walk out and use the stairs. Right before we took off, I moved to the row
in front of me, which was more open, intending to stretch out and nap during
the flight, which I found myself unable to do, though I did rest my eyes a
bit. Before long, they announced that we
were making our descent. There it was:
the capital, and it was splendid, even from the air, especially from the
air. Also, I had cellular data service
again.
We got off the plane, by the
stairs, and headed to a bus. Throughout
this process, as I got caught up on social media, I saw something(s) that left
me truly distraught. I will provide no
details about the specifics here, as they will be relegated to my personal
journal entry. I was truly distraught,
though, and it was all I could think about for the next hour or so. It left me
mopey on Valentine’s Day just like last year, though for a different reason
this time.
I got a taxi that would take
me to my hotel, and I put on the Fearless album by Taylor Swift, just as I had
listened to a year ago today when I was all mopey on Valentine’s Day. I reflected on the difference and everything
that had changed in the past 365 years.
I am certainly a stronger person than I was a year ago today. I told myself that I would allow myself to
mope until we reached the hotel. I
didn’t even need that long. Once I
started seeing the historic buildings of downtown Lima I was good. We soon got to the Congress, and it became
apparent that my driver had no idea where he was going or where the hotel
was. Eventually, thorugh my Google Maps,
we found it.
The hotel was a piece of
shit, and they didn’t have a record of my reservation, despite me clearly
having a Hotels.com confirmation email.
She just took down my name and passport number and gave me a key, didn’t
even ask for a credit card. The hotel
was shit, seriously. Three stars was a
stretch, and I recalled my very similar experience last January in Buenos
Aires. I changed into some casual
clothes, still playing Taylor. I asked
her to promise me that she’d never leave me, “Forever and always,” I
demanded. She just kept singing. I collapsed on my bed sideways and lamented
once more what I had seen.
I then went
into the bathroom and saw something that completely lifted my spirits. It was the most difficult Official Uing
situation I had ever seen. There was
less than a foot between the bowl of the Uer and the tub. How was I supposed to take an Official
U? Well, the answer was that my feet
would fit under the bowl, but it was still no easy feat. I then grabbed my computer bag and got a
lighter from the front desk before heading towards the more interesting parts
of town, still playing Taylor.
I had to
choose between Congress and the main plaza.
I chose the main plaza, the views being better there. It was still alive with couples still
celebrating Valentine’s Day, not being shy about showing some PDA, or, as it
would be in Spanish, MAP. I took some
pictures, non-ceremonial (those can wait for tomorrow), still playing
Taylor. I then did a flashback post,
joking that Taylor was my Valentine again this year, perhaps even “forever and
always.” For my readers who do not get
this joke I keep making, “Forever & Always” is one of my favorite Taylor
Swift songs. I then found an empty bench
in front of the presidential palace, where I sat down, lit up my 2014 Christmas
Pipe, and proceeded to write this entry, still playing Taylor. On that note, pun intended, I’ll close so
that I can try to find some food and head back to the hotel to publish this and
also write my personal entry.
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