The Holy Grail of my trip, and one of the main reasons I've been so obsessed with coming to South America, is Machu Picchu. It's just one of those fantasy places. You know, the kind you read about and see pictures of but never actually think you'll get to visit? Like Lapland or the Moon.
There is, however, a lot more to Cuzco than just a fleeting visit on route to the famous Inca ruins. I was there for 11 days and could have stayed so much longer- the place is so much fun.
Following La Paz, I thought it best to avoid staying at the 'Wild Rover' here, and opted for the 'Milhouse' instead. Unlike it's Buenos Aires counterpart, this 'Milhouse' is unbelievably chill, the breakfast is amazing (fruit for breakfast in Bolivia and Peru doesn't really happen in hostels) and each bed is section off slightly and comes with it's own reading light. Sadly, I was only there for one night before opting for a cheaper hostel called 'The Point', but I probably should have just spent my money. 'The Point' was clean, and offered the same facilities as 'Milhouse' but the place was organised chaos. As receptionists in one of the busiest backpacking point in South America your ONLY job is to assign people to the correct bed. That's it. Tell us where to sleep and get it right. Not rocket science, but when there was an issue every single day I was there, I started to wonder if maybe one required a degree in Quantum Physics in order to get it done.
I would love to say that I used Cuzco as a time for a little RnR, but that would be a lie. The Wild Rover here, although much tamer than the one in La Paz (Thank you Lord baby Jesus, and Mary and all of the saints), still served as the perfect place to start nights out on account of cheap drink offers and fun atmosphere. Then, we'd head to either Temple or Mama Africa's (very little recollection of either).
I also, went to a music festival whilst in Cuzco, and can subsequently never return to Ollantaytambo or The Sacred Valley of the Incas.
Spontaneity isn't really a word i'd associate with the choices I make, no matter how much i'd like to. I'm a control freak, who always tends to have a plan. Pulling an all-nighter at amusic festival in the middle of Sacred Valley was
not part of my plan, but in the name of being a good backpacker (and because my friend and I woke up horrifically hangover and looking for anything to brighten up our day) when the opportunity to go to Arkana arose, I didn't say no. The three day pass was about £25, and despite the fact that we were only going for a night, it seemed like good value.
The whole thing was an experience, and I'm still not sure why Psych Trance is allowed to be a type of music, but I'm glad I went. Truth be told, I think I'm still getting over it...
Following Arkana, and once I'd managed to get a decent nights sleep and eat a meal not made on festival grounds, I headed into the Plaza de Armas to book my Inca Jungle Trek. To do the actual Inca Trail, you have to acquire you permits months in advance and be aware that it's over $700 to do. No thanks. I'd already read about, but had also been recommended the Inca Jungle Trek by dozens of people. It's way cheaper and wasn't just a solid four days of trekking - I was sold. I got mine, including white water rafting and zip-lining for $230, then paid an extra $10 to catch an earlier train.
Day one involved mountain biking 2000km down a road... it went horribly. I'm not a cyclists and Peruvians drive like crazy. I was mid panic attack about sixty light years behind the rest of my group when my guide pulled up in the van next to me asking if I just wanted a lift down. I obliged. Don't get me wrong, it was just another thing that made me feel like a big fat loser who can't do anything right, but sometimes it's important to admit defeat. I have other strengths.
The afternoon and whit water rafting where a much bigger success and whilst I'm still unsure as to the safety of the company we went with, it was so much fun I honestly didn't care. The views were unreal too. It looked like someone had painted the mountains and cloud around us.
Day two was hike day. It was hard work. Bloody hard work, actually. The sun shone gloriously and a solid two hours was an almost verticals uphill climb. At the start we walked along a road and I remember looking ahead to this great mountain that stood before us and thinking 'Fuck me, I'm glad we're not walking up that!'
We walked up that.
I resented every single second of the climb, but when we reached the top it was so worth it I wasn't sure if my lungs hurt from the strenuous exercise or the sheer beauty of the valley below me. It was incredible. I should hike more often (hahahahaha). On route, we stopped at two 'Monkey Houses', whilst our guide explained about Inca history, their culture and the way they used the land around them. Fascinating, by the time we reached lunch I felt I'd never earned a meal more in my life! (This 'out door' thing is still all quite new to me).
Day three involved a morning of zip-lining, which is probably the closest I'll ever come to flying and was proof my fear of heights is dwindling as I grow older and wiser and then a three jour walk. Following the pervious day's hike, three hours didn't seem too bad, but it was monotonous. We walked along the train tracks that take you to Aguas Calientes, the town that sits below Machu Picchu. Once you got over the prettiness of the place, the following 2.5 hours were mind numbingly dull. Aguas Calientes is a really cool town, but one that's soul purpose is clearly geared around tourism. Still, it was dinner with the group before heading to bed, ready for a 4am start.
There are two ways up to the Manhu Picchu site. The first, is taking the shuttle bus, which costs you $12 and starts running from 5:30am; the second is to walk up the Inca steps when the park opens at 5am. I chose the steps, you know, in the name of pushing myself. There were 1763 of them. 1763 steps of death that made the steps up to my Zia Gina's house in Sicily feel like an escalator. It was torture, every time I thought I was almost there I was most
certainly not almost there. It took me an hour. Please don't read this and think that it was your average staircase either because it wasn't. Each step was a different height, width and length. Some were gentle, some felt like the spirit of gym memberships past come to kick my arse. Reaching my destination has honestly never felt so good. When I entered the site and finally saw the ancient City of the Incas, I'm not ashamed to say that I had tears in my eyes. It just stunning, the weather was perfect and it was all just a bit 'knock me over with a feather' to be honest. I was speechless at it all because I'd done it. Me. Hayley Devlin who was last for every sports team known to man, the girl that used to hide behind the tennis courts during cross country, had made it to Machu Picchu. My ultimate Bucket List item, officially ticked off.
My return to Cuzco was brief, I arrived back at half 11 and by midnight was out and drinking, celebrating the fact that I'd survived it.
Dramatic and drunk...
They'll probably put that on my tombstone.
-xo
