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Published: March 26th 2010
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I could have opted to take the local bus between Puno and Cuzco, or even a direct coach. Would probably have saved me a couple of hours and half the ticket price. But, instead I choose the slower, educational, comfortable, and culturally loaded Inka Express. A premium price, but comfortable buses, stops at interesting sites along the way, an English-speaking guide, and a free lunch buffet sold itself.
The name Inka Express. The Inka part indicates that we’ll be seeing some Inca relate historical sites. The Express part suggests that the transport will move with an above average age. Clearly catering to tourists who want to combine the cultural experience with rapid pace, making efficient use of their time.
Happy to leave the boring, cold, and sleepy city of Puno, I board the bus in the morning. Looking forward to arriving in Cuzco the same evening, and an eventful trip getting there. The bus is only two thirds full. Most people probably go for the cheaper options to get out of Puno. I’m curious as to why the other passengers have chosen this more expensive option. I’ve been on the move for two weeks now though, looking forward to
a comfortable and uncomplicated ride, so I don’t really make any efforts to find out.
When we reach Juliaca, a city about an hour north of Puno, our guide for the day speaks up for the first time. He’s Peruvian, in his mid-twenties. If he takes any pride in his job, he appears determined not to show it. His English is decent, but he sounds about as enthusiastic as a lobster in a tank waiting to get picked, and has about as much charisma as a clay brick.
The first stop on the trip is Pukara. A small village with a main square, a few stores, a cathedral, and a museum. At the museum we learn about the ancient people who used to inhabit the region before the Incas. We also learn about the South American tradition of putting two clay animals, usually bulls, on top of the house roofs. After the museum, when attempting to buy a bottle of water, I also learn that the coin I’m trying to pay with is fake. Great, I’ve been in the country for one day and I’m already distributing counterfeit money.
Lunchtime. Time to feast on the promised buffet lunch. Surprisingly, the buffet holds a decent standard with a good selection of food with high quality. I’m seated at a table with five strangers; one older woman whose origin I can’t determine, and a party of four French people. The French show no intentions to include us in their conversation. Suits me well. Normally I would try to make contact with fellow travelers, but for me this is purely transport. I manage to get rid of my fake coin buying an Inca Kola, basically candy on a bottle. Its vast popularity goes beyond my comprehension. The fake coin seems like a proper exchange for this junk.
The next stop is at Abra La Raya. A mountain, or possibly a volcano, at an altitude of some 4,300 meters. The highest point at our journey. From here it’s downhill to Cuzco. The snow clad mountain is beautiful, very photogenic. The perfect picture postcard view. I see a Pink Caravan bus. Fellow Swedes on tour. Granted, we’re along the tourist path, but still not very exotic to find a busload of Swedish old people in the Peruvian mountains.
We stop in Raqchi, an Inca archeological site. Ruins of temples and other buildings. Would have been fascinating, but my temporary tiredness, along with our guide’s complete disability to engage the audience, make me just want to get back on the bus. The guide points to a path a few meters away from the temple ruin, explaining that this is part of the original Inca Trail. Can’t decide if I should be impressed by this piece of information or not, but I walk over there and stroll a few meters on the trail. Just to be able to say I walked at least part of the Inca Trail if someone asks.
The last stop is Andahuaylilllas. A small village with a large cathedral. Allegedly “The Sistine Chapel of South America”. The paintings inside the cathedral are indeed remarkable. Having seen the actual Vatican Sistine Chapel a few months earlier though, it fails to impress me.
Early evening we roll into Cuzco. Paved roads. Street life. Bustling commerce. Traffic. Streetlights. I’m happy to see a modern city after quite a few days having seen nothing but villages and small towns. The Inka Express - a little bit of Inca, not so much of express, but a comfortable and safe means to get out of Puno and to reach the legendary Cuzco.
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