The main Inca temple (Qoricancha): ceremonial heart of the empire, where the sun temple had walls plated 1in thick with gold and the moon temple in silver. As with all the sites, the engineering and masonry (precise to the nanometer ) and free of mortar is amazing.
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| Saqsayhuaman |
The hillside temple/fort (Saqsayhuaman): carved blocks as big as a cabin create a zigzag of walls. The Inca city planners laid Cusco out in form of a puma, and the zigzag design up on the hill are the teeth of the puma. (BTW, our hotel was on a street named "Spine of the Puma" in Quechua). There was a final, desperately bloody battle here between the conquistadors and the Inca resistance, in which the Spaniards were able to finally hold the city, and though the Inca were able to win one more battle later, the end was probably inevitable.
The sacrificial/mummification temple (Qenqo): down in a small cave is a table of stone, carved flat. Touch it and one feels it significantly colder than outside...perfect for preparing one's mummy.
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| Tambomachay |
The day ended with Yudi puking some more, but by morning she was fit and ready for the big day. A van drove us the 90minutes from Cusco to Ollantaytambo, where Jen and I stayed to explore and the Dominicans boarded the Vistadome train for Machu Picchu. Later, reuniting after our excursion to Ollantaytambo and their excursion to Machu Picchu, we all got a chance to enjoy Cusco prior to leaving town: the square, the streets, the big market where we bought pink quinuoa, strong honey, and mountain strawberries.
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| Ollantaytambo, from ruins. Note the granaries up on the cliff. |
Continuously inhabited for a thousand years, this town predates the Inca. But it played an important role in Inca history, being the site of the last victory the Inca resistance had over the Spaniards (just prior to the disappearance of the Inca empire into the jungle and shadows of history). The cliffs above the village hold a temple complex and granaries here and there, while the streets below are lined with Inca masonry. Rushing mountain water flows through town in stone channels along the cobbled streets, under houses, into fountains, etc. It being early yet, Jen and I took the opportunity to go through the temple complex before more tourists arrived.
Ollantaytambo Ruins
Crossing the swollen river (it's rainy season!), we climbed up the ceremonial terraces. In Inca architecture, if you are in an area with their finely fitted stones rather than looser field stones, you know that it's an important spot. Just so, the entry to the Sun Temple is a row of very precisely worked niches in gray stone, but more impressive still are the six very large red slabs "inside" the temple. Rising up more than twice my height, with a large decorative Inca cross (chakana), we could put our backs to the stone, face the sun, and see the whole valley below. It's from up here that the Inca rained arrows down on the attacking Spaniards. After winding through rougher passageways, less fancy niches and a granary, we explored the Water Temple on the valley floor. The Inca engineers seem to have enjoyed the creation of clever irrigation. From back up the valley a bit, water channels flow down terraces into a gutter along the cliff face, splash down into a decorative fountain and, further on, split to pour into several different baths.
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| 6 Monoliths of the Sun Temple Bath of the princess Inca passageway |
Pumamarca Hike
There are plenty of gaudy weavings to buy, but a close inspection reveals that there are also very authentic pieces available, some clearly a generation or two old. Jen bought one of these and we headed out for our hike. Simply making our way up the road out of town was picturesque; we passed several locals: the old man in a full suit with a dog, the woman with a baby in her manta (shawl) crossing herself in front of the little yellow church, the modern young man who pointed out the path to us, the old lady tying her sheep to a branch. Upwards, we followed a crashing tributary of the main Urubamba river below, passing a family weaving on their loom and drying their laundry in the rain. We had to ask two men with picks for the trail and again, after climbing steeply along some carefully tended terraces, I had to yell across to the house tending the crops, and they pointed the way. It drizzled on us, but the air was fresh and the clouds moved enough to reveal nice views down the canyon. We met almost nobody, and no gringos whatsoever. We soaked our socks crossing a swollen stream, climbing up over a shoulder with the remains of an old Inca watchtower, and crossing some terraces gone mostly to seed. We came upon a man splitting wood in front of a small hut, using a crude looking tool. He pointed the way. Then a family, with a silent grandma, a dingy man with blackened hands and a wide-eyed daughter. They pointed the way too, but finally, just short of the ruins, we hit a stream that Jen just did not want to attempt. And honestly, we'd seen plenty of ruins...the hike itself was satisfaction enough. The man splitting wood did laugh at us for failing to cross the stream.Festival of the Three Kings
We hiked back to town, passing a guy picking wild acaí berries from a limb perilously hanging over the river. When we reached the little yellow church, we were surprised to stumble upon a troupe of costumed dancers and several spectators (though, again, nary a gringo). The costumes were layers of bright, embroidered satin and each dancer wore a carved wooden mask painted black (black is a happy color there). As with most things in this region, the ancient Andean traditions seem to be comfortably melded with the relatively recent Spanish traditions. Then the dancing stopped and a few of the troupe knelt in front of the church door for a ritual flogging. In the end, we followed the troupe as they paraded back into town to the tune of drums and Andean pipes. During the course of the rest of the afternoon, we crossed paths with 1 or 2 more troupes parading around. The last troupe we saw, in red costumes and white fringe, were led by a stumbling head man messily eating some choclo (Andean fat corn), helped along by a young masked assistant, and I wonder whether he had been obligated to stop and make toasts at the various points along their way. Damp, tired and happy, Jen and I enjoyed a lunch notable for it's simple flavorful soup that seemed a tonic for our souls. Until we got the overpriced bill and realized that, for all experiences otherwise, we were not all that far from the gringo trail.Chicha
(in the Andes = a fermented corn beer)
Perhaps as an antidote to that overpriced lunch, we set out searching to fulfill my hope to try chicha for the first time. This andean chicha is a type of corn beer and is very different from chicha morada, the sweet, cloved, family drink made all over Peru from purple corn. And, no, you may have heard that chicha is made by old women who chew the corn themselves...but that's not the case in this area. Brewed traditionally for hundreds of years, chicha can be found in the kitchens of local ladies who mark their homes by raising a pole with a red plastic bag tied around the end. So when we found a marker pole, we ducked low into the home, making our way well back until we saw the dark kitchen with people inside. I announced that I had never tried the drink before and they welcomed us, making room on a rough wood bench for Jennifer and scooching apart elsewhere to barely make room for me. With us in the low, smoky room were a few older guys, a lady in full local top hat and skirts, a mother and little boy clutching to her, and our hostess – squatting by her large bucket of chicha. A black chicha kettle bubbled in the corner and several guinea pigs ran around under the table on the dirt floor. To my surprise, and despite it being served room temperature, I enjoyed the flavor: a smooth, lemony drink with a foamy froth on top. If you are a beer lover, it was kind of like a hefeweizen with a lot of lemon. I chatted with the guy next to me ("guinea pig is best served on a stick") and, when the mom said her boy was mute, we attempted a few simple sign language words ("thank you", "help") and everyone laughed. I am still not sure if they were laughing because we knew some sign language or because they thought we were crazy or just teasing the boy. Teasing does seem to be an ice-breaker; they pointed to an older and a younger man and said, "They are father and son, though the son looks just as old as the father!" and I scored some points when I replied "And just as ugly!" Leaving, the cost of my pint of chicha was roughly 17¢, so I tipped 300%, thanked everybody, and we walked out to the little streets of Ollantaytambo.
