A rather fancy Oltursa night bus brought us to Cusco. We left Arequipa rather reluctantly, feeling like another evening there wouldn't have been so bad. We arrived into Cusco, the historic capital of the Inca empire in the early hours, 6am to be precise. It wasn't much fun for Rob, as I admit, I am a terrible morning person. Thankfully we were able to check in to our hotel (Tecte Guest House) early so we fell in to bed and caught another four hours sleep! We woke feeling jaded but dragged ourselves out for brunch and stationed ourselves at a cafe for hours, determined to make some firm plans. As usual, we had left it far too late and NEEDED to book our Machu Picchu tickets. It is not an easy process and ridiculously expensive, not to mention frustrating. So here is a quick guide for anyone planning a trip there: Booking tickets: There are several types of tickets; 1) entry only to the site itself 2) entry to the site plus a timed slot to go up Machu Picchu Mountain 3) entry plus a timed slot to go up Huayna Picchu. The guidebooks will say that they sell out months in advance but this just isn't true. They do limit the number of people that enter both the site and the two mountain climbs, and to be fair the Huayna mountain had sold out by the time we booked but there were more than enough places left for entry. You can book online but the system is unreliable and so slow to load so it is better to wait until you arrive in Cusco and book it at The Ministry of Culture (I know, it sounds like something from Harry Potter). We took a fair while deciding on our itinerary, discussing ways to save a few pounds here and there. There are in theory a couple of ways to get to Aguas Calientes which is the closest town to Machu Picchu if you're not getting there doing the Inca Trail. You can take the train from Cusco all the way there, take the bus to Ollantaytambo and then get the train, or walk for ten hours along the railway track. The latter, although the cheapest way, sounded ridiculously dangerous (remember my comment on the people who got bitten by the dog in Peru? Well, it was on this walk. Pardon my language, but no fucking way we were doing that). The train journey was apparently very beautiful so we just swallowed the costs and booked a direct train from Cusco (by buying the ticket direct from the train company rather than a local agent we also got a discount). Our plan was to spend one night in Aguas Calientes and one night in Ollantaytambo so we could spend a day exploring the Sacred Valley after Machu Picchu. With everything booked, we were finally on top of things organisation-wise, so we left to explore the cool part of Cusco, San Blas, which is where we should have been staying, had we done some research. I was on an alpaca mission, I needed a jumper and some souvenirs for the fam. After the tenth ‘Artesanal’ store and just as Rob was about to lose his shit, I found it, the perfect alpaca jumper. It wasn't baby alpaca, but I can cope with that. Then Rob’s patience was finally rewarded with a tasty dinner at Pachapapa. Saqsayhuaman (pronounced Sexywoman), not surprisingly, is at the top of a ridiculous hill. At an altitude of 3,701m. Thanks Incas. You'd think we’d be used to the altitude by now but it's still a struggle. A fortress built in around 900 CE by a chap called Tupac (yes, thats true!) with stones so large that it seems impossible that human hands could have set them in place, and so perfectly sculpted that not even a pin could could be inserted between the joints. And these walls have survived decades of devastating earthquakes. But then the bloody Spaniards arrived and demolished it, ruining it for us all. It is an impressive sight and one not to be missed. And the views over Cusco are also pretty impressive. On a side note, in typical Peruvian, ‘fuck over the tourists’ style, you are not able to buy a single ticket to any of the local sights, but instead are forced to buy a Boleto Turistico (for around £45 EACH!!!) which is collective entry to around twelve sights in and around Cusco and the Sacred Valley. Aguas Calientes is a total shithole. And they know it, and simply don't care because it is at the foot of one of South America’s biggest tourist attractions and the people will come, no matter how shit and expensive the accommodation is. The train ride was nice and we were lucky enough to have good weather. The good weather did not last however and we spent the day running from cafe to cafe as we outstayed our welcome each time, because we wanted to spend as little time as possible in our dingy and overpriced hostel. 5am - yes, thats what time we got up to get the bus to Machu Picchu. The bus that takes twenty minutes to get up the hill and costs a small fortune. But it was our eleven year anniversary (well done us, and yes Dad, you’re right, some don't get that long even for murder). So imagine our frustration when we arrived to be greeted with one of the longest queues we have ever seen. Moaning aside, it is pretty awesome and the rain that the heavy grey clouds were threatening at least held off for our arrival. After a quick whip round of the base sight, trying in vain to get shots without the tourists and their fluoro raincoats, and some fun llama selfies (naturally), we headed to Machu Picchu Mountain. Well, it was what we thought was Machu Picchu Mountain. Now, I love Rob, and it was our eleven year anniversary, and I so wanted it to be special, but when he dragged me up the WRONG mountain, I really had to work hard to keep the smile on my face. Because then it started to rain. And then we had only TEN minutes to get to the actual mountain entrance before our time slot was up. So then we had to run down the wrong mountain and up the start of the right mountain, and I lost my 'happy anni’ attitude somewhere along the way as the sweat and rain ran into my eyes. Two hours and thousands of rickety Inca steps later and we had reached the peak. Thankfully the views on the way up were pretty spectacular because when we made it to the top, we were greeted by a TOTAL white out. Happy Anni darling. Parts of the route down were quite frankly terrifying. It was now properly raining and some of the rocks were as slippery as ice. Steps which were about as deep as a two year olds foot and hugged the edges of some of the sheerest cliffs I have ever navigated. Down was definitely harder than up. I almost crawled down on my arse, the safest way.
The queue for the bus back down was insane and the rain was now torrential. Thank god we made it up early enough to have a half decent view in the morning. It was a relief to make it back down, we were soaked through, and more than ready to get the hell out of there. Comments are closed.
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AuthorsRob & Charlie's travelling adventures on their long journey back to London after living in Hong Kong. Four continents, twelve countries, lots of experiences. Archives
July 2017
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Robert Ware & Charlotte Nunn |