Jarrard´s photos

Below are some of Jarrard´s pictures of us from this summer. You can see more of his beautiful work on his photoblog, http://jarrardcole.wordpress.com/.

 

Kelsey being awesome.

Kelsey doing a split on Machu Picchu.

UNC!

Looking cool on Machu Picchu.

Kelsey working on her pot.

Trying to look stern.

Me, teaching.

The happy drummer.

Jacob, the not-so-little little drummer boy.

Jacob taking a picture at basket-weaving.

Jacob in the middle.

Favorite. Dancing on Pumamarka.

Technically, I took this picture of Kelsey and Jarrard being giants.

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Machu Picchu

This weekend we finally bit the bullet and did it: we made the trek to Machu Picchu. Living in Ollantaytambo, we see people passing through either on their way to, or from, the sacred site all the time. ¨When are you going to Machu Picchu?¨ is almost an acceptable introduction when you meet someone here. We wanted to wait until close to the end of our trip to make the journey.

We left Saturday afternoon, taking the Vistadome Valley train from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes, the town that sits at the base of Machu Picchu. Peru Rail, the company with the monopoly on the train line through the Sacred Valley, runs trains from Cusco to Aguas Calientes for as little as $60 USD round-trip for the budget ¨backpacker¨ train, to $500 for the ridiculous ¨Hiram Bingham¨ train.

We boarded the train in the afternoon, stopping first at The Albergue for cookies. Neither Jarrard nor Kelsey have ridden many trains, and were disproportionately excited about the thing, in my opinion. The ride was pretty cool though. It took about 90 minutes to reach Aguas Calientes, dropping at least 2,000 feet in elevation and heading into what starts to feel like the jungle.

Strangely enough, when you´re at Machu Picchu, you feel as though you´re up in the clouds. And you are. Sort of. The site is only about 8,000 feet above sea level, lower than Ollantaytambo at 9,000 feet and much lower than Cusco at 11,000. So we had to adjust to warmer, more humid weather.

We arrived in Aguas Calientes after dark, and all I can say is that it reminded me of that town in Pirates of the Caribbean, where it´s kind of creepy and horrible and people are leering at you and you just want to run really far away. I did not like Aguas Calientes. I decided I would rather be the garbage collector man in Ollanta than the wealthiest man in Aguas Calientes.

We met up with our two friends, who took buses and hiked from Ollantaytambo. They probably saved about $90 USD, but they had to stand for a six-hour bus ride and then hike on railroad tracks for a few hours, hoping the train would not come. Needless to say, I think it was $90 well-spent for the train.

But we all arrived around dinnertime on Saturday, and bought our bus tickets up to Machu Picchu and our actual tickets to get into the site. $14 USD and $40 USD, respectively. If I hadn´t idiotically left my UNC OneCard at home, I could have been admitted to Machu Picchu for only $20. I tried to use my Maryland driver´s license. It didn´t work, and I wasn´t too surprised.

We had dinner in Aguas Calientes, a really gross experience. The town has experienced urban sprawl to the extreme, and should be an example of how not to construct a tourist town. We ate in a grossly-overpriced restaurant because the person at the door told us we could havefree nachos and drinks. Well. The ¨nachos¨ consisted of about five plain tortilla chips sitting on a plate, and we discovered that only pisco sours and wine were free- water you´d have to pay $3 USD for. We were not pleased.

Then we headed to our hostel. Dear lord. Lonely Planet describes it:

Well, it ain’t much to look at. But this ramshackle multistory guesthouse overlooking the noisiest part of town along the west end of the train tracks just couldn’t be cheaper. It’s for penny-pinchers, or anyone else who finds themselves stuck without a room.

This description was kind. Another book described it as ¨decrepit but classic.¨ Let me just say, there was nothing classic about this structure masquerading as a hostel.

It was 15 soles, or about $5 per person, per night. That was its only redeeming quality. Less redeeming was the horror-film-haunted-house ambiance, the padlock used to keep the door shut, or the fleas we discovered later. The sad excuse for a building was conveniently situated next to the train tracks, so it felt as though we were experiencing an earthquake every time one went by. It was lovely.

So we were only two pleased to wake up at 4 a.m. the next morning and leave our mildewed room as fast as humanly possible. We stumbled down the street to the bus line by 5 a.m., where people were lined up in the dark to board the first buses up to the ruins.

So, here´s the thing. We´d wanted to climb Huayna Picchu, the huge mountain looming in the back of every postcard picture of Machu Picchu. We´d heard it was a killer hike straight up, with some stomach-turning cliffs next to the stairs, but totally worth it for the gorgeous views at the top.

But they only let 400 people up there every day, so you need to be on one of the first buses up there to run and get your name on the list if you want to hike. Thus the getting up at 4 a.m. We got on maybe the twelfth bus of the morning up to the ruins, and we were thinking this wasn´t bad. Jacob went last weekend, hadn´t even woken up till 5:30, and still hiked Huaynu Picchu. We assumed we were fine.

Our bus arrived at the top of the mountain as it was starting to get light out, and we easily passed through the gate and ran toward the Huaynu Picchu check-in. I even elbowed a few people out of the way. As we were running, someone saw my UNC hat, and yelled ¨Go Heels,¨ to which I responded in kind. Nothing like some good Tar Heel spirit on the top of a mountain in South America to put you in a good mood.

But much to our dismay, we were numbers 406, 407, and 408 in line. We missed the hike by five people. It was a bummer. But the upside was, we were in Machu Picchuto see the sun rise, before the massive arrival of tourists began. After we finished haggling with the man guarding the line, I turned around and all of the sudden, realized where I was. It was breathtaking.

Machu Picchu is draped across the saddle of two mountains and covers several acres. The entire area protected by UNESCO covers 80,000 acres, and it´s magnificent. While many people think it was a religious temple or military complex for the Incas, current academic theory is that it served as a winter retreat for the leaders who needed a break from the chillier Cusco. It was certainly built by slaves or conscripted labor, and would have brought food up from lower climates to support the people living there.

We stayed in the park for about 10 hours, until leaving when it closed at 5 p.m. From about 10 a.m. to 3 p.m., it was horrendously packed with tourists, streaming through every crack and crevice through which people are permitted to walk. During that time, when it was also pretty hot, we hiked up to a neighboring mountain from which we had a great view of the ruins. Easier to hike and more peaceful than Huayna Picchu, it had equally good views, according to a hiker who´d been to both.

In the afternoon, we started to drag a bit. We obviously hadn´t slept much the night before, and it had been a long day. At one ponit, we went and sat on a cool set of stairs between two stone walls and took a lot of pictures of ourselves. It was very mature. We then decided it was time to take a break.

We left the site briefly and gulped ice tea (which I haven´t seen anywhere else in Peru) and frozen yogurt at the hideously overpriced cafe by the gate.

When we headed back in to the ruins around 3 pm., almost everyone had disapeared, and the experience became much more pleasant. We took our picture on the classic spot overlooking the ruins where everyone else takes pictures, wearing UNC paraphernalia. At one point, we were taking a picture while spelling out ¨UNC¨with our arms. ¨It´s not the freaking YMCA!¨ some man yelled at us. Thanks buddy. Thanks a lot.

We spent the last hour in the park sitting on terraces overlooking the entire ruins as the sun started to set behind the mountains. It was perhaps the most peaceful experience I´ve had in Peru. As I fell asleep on the train home listening to Paul Simon and watching the scenery pass, I decided I would come back to Machu Picchu again at some point in my life. Although maybe next time I´ll spring for a hotel sans fleas.

Kelsey was super excited about the train.

I was not super excited about our hostel room.

Dinner in Aguas Calientes. Where water cost more than a pisco sour.

Lunch on top of the mountain.

Waiting in line for the bus at 5 a.m.

Me in a doorway.

Hanging out on an Inca wall.

Looking good on top of Machu Picchu. You know.

Anyone (mom?) know what flower this is? It´s everywhere.

I´m chilling, Jarrard´s looking at his camera. Typical.

Kelsey´s glamour shot.

Making unhappy faces. For no particular reason.

Trying to set the self-timer.

The three of us in a stairwell. Figuring out the self-timer.

The three of us with the funerary rock.

Annoyed at Jarrard, who was making his guess his favorite photo he took.

We entertained ourselves by taking pictures.

Me by the Huaynu Picchu sign-in.

Kelsey doing a split.

Pre-trip cookies at the Albergue.

Train station, and our train.

The three of us have an unnatural adoration for Mount Veronica. Isn´t she gorgeous?

Kelsey was also displeased with our room.

Being told we could have free nachos and drinks with dinner. Lies.

¨Nachos¨

A sign in Aguas Calientes. Escape? Yes please.

Wandering around Aguas Calientes.

Fake Starbucks

We look really tired waiting in line.

The line for the first bus up.

The lucky folks who got into Huaynu Picchu. And the mountain behind.

Jarrard taking pictures in the ruins.

The three windows.

The vista.

Jarrard leading the way.

Looking out.

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Perfect day, perfect book

Today I had an entire Saturday to myself in Ollantaytambo. Jarrard and Kelsey are off on individual adventures, so I took advantage of an entire free day to do exactly what I pleased. And that was read a book.

Today I read, from start to finish, Hugh Thomson´s ¨The White Rock.¨ I started it over post-breakfast coffee in a cafe in town, and finished it by candlelight after the electricity went out in our hostel. Aside from dinner, when my host sister and I watched a horrible dubbed version of The Bride of Chucky and painted our nails, I read for most of the day. And it was great.

Jarrard had been reading the book for most of our trip here and regaling us with some of the better anecdotes, piquing my interest in the story of the Incas and exploration in the area. And when I sat down to dig into the book, it didn´t disappoint.

Even if you have little interest in the history of the Incas or archaeology, which I didn´t particularly, Thomson´s mixture of personal accounts of exploration with Peruvian history is a great read.

The documentary filmmaker and adventurer describes his explorations in the Sacred Valley of Peru in the 1980´s and again in the mid 1990´s, seeking out lost or forgotten Inca ruins with the help of local guides, archaeologists, intellectuals, and wizened adventurers from an earlier era. 

Thomson´s penchant for adventure and sense of humor make the book an enjoyable read, even if you´ve never set foot on Peruvian soil. For me, it was interesting to read about the historical significance of sights I´ve seen. I also delighted in reading Thomson´s descriptions of the quirks of Andean culture, seeking comfort in the knowledge that someone else out there thinks grenadinas are kind of gross and the abundance of potatoes in the Peruvian diet a little sickening.

Thomson´s succinct description of the history of the Inca rulers and potential significance of Inca architecture make me feel like I finally have a handle on the history of my surroundings, and I believe I´ll start to see things with fresh eyes. Or at least after I´ve gotten some sleep.

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Robbery on the Peruvian highway: why monuments should be free

Growing up in Washington, D.C., I feel entitled to enter museums and national parks for free. From my mother, I inherited a sense of glee in saving money. And from my father, an attitude of skepticism toward absolute rules.

With these three elements of my personality fully developed, I´ve been annoyed by the Peruvian stance on entry requirements to popular tourist sites.

I don´t mind paying a small fee to support the upkeep of a beautiful park or museum. But when a three-course meal here costs approximately 15 soles, I am fundamentally opposed to paying 70 soles to wander around some ruins, no matter how sacred or breathtakingly beautiful they are. Sorry, but I´m just not. 70 soles, or more than $20 USD for a wander, is robbery.

Sites like Machu Picchu and the ruins in Ollantaytambo are clearly designed to wring as much money out of unsuspecting tourists as possible. I suppose if this money went to support local communities, that would be one thing. But I´m not convinced it is.

We dont´charge people to visit Mount Rushmore or the Grand Canyon, and I think that´s the way it should be. I´m proud of the fact that anyone, regardless of economic means, can see the Alexander Calder sculptures at the National Gallery or the flag that flew over Fort McHenry at American History. Even the entrance fee at the MET is suggested, not obligatory. Monuments of national pride should should be available to the public as just that, national pride. Not national moneymaker.

I have the financial means to pay the fee to enter every tourist attraction here. But not everyone does, and it doesn´t seem right to me that structures built by the Incas 500 years ago as religious devotions are becoming commercialized sources of cash flow.

So we´ve spent time here talking to other volunteers and locals, finding out ways to enter these public places of natural and Inca-made beauty for free.

We haven´t yet visited Machu Picchu, and that will be the ultimate exercise in sticking it to the Peruvian man. But we´ve learned that there are many beautiful ruins such as Pumamarka and our solstice hike that are yet undiscovered by tourists and entirely free.

Getting into the main ruins for which Ollantaytambo is famous is a slightly greater challenge. These ruins sits on the side of a jut coming out of the mountain. Jarrard and I hiked up the back of the mountain and came down into the site from the top about two weeks ago. But the climb is pretty much straight uphill for 30 minutes. Actually, imagine climbing a ladder with no rungs. That´s more what it´s like.

So yesterday we decided to try out a different route suggested by the locals. We had a hand-drawn map from Jarrard´s Spanish teacher, who´s never let us down. (She was the one who suggested the restaurant Las Machitas). But somehow we still got really lost.

We spent about two hours climbing through chakrahs, or fields, waving to local farmers, climbing hills, stumbling through rockslides, hopping streams, and doing just about everything but actually reaching the ruins. We saw two spiders of approximately golf ball size, and Kelsey almost fell down the mountain with fright upon seeing a large brown snake with a diamond pattern on its back. At least we got a definitive answer on snakes in Peru.

So we probably won´t take that route to the ruins again, as nice as it was to commune with Peruvian nature. But we will keep trying to find the path in. Because really, if visiting Kermit the Frog is free, what could possibly be worth paying for?

Jarrard, Catherine, and Sara, trying to determine how we got so lost. And so completely stuck on a ledge.

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