Our Lives are in Ruins

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We arrived in Copacobana, a coastal town on Lake Titicaca, happy to have escaped the madness of Carnaval. While the incessant sound of brass bands continued, the fervor of the holiday had passed and I enjoyed the relaxing vibe of this beach town. After a couple satisfying trout dinners and a some good walks about town, Mike and I set out for a two days at Isla del Sol.

The island may be reached by a two hour ferry ride from the main bay of Copacobana to the North end of the island or you can walk 10 miles to the end of the peninsula and take a short ferry ride to the South end of the island. Attempting to avoid the crowds we decided to hoof it. Our route took us along a dirt road with amazing scenery; flowers of all colors bloomed against the background of green hills and the vibrant blue of Lake Titicaca. We tramped along for 6 miles and watched the dark clouds encroaching at the edge of the sky. Our minds were calculating our odds of being caught in a violet deluge before we reached the ferry site when out of the bushes sprung a wiry man with a guide book in his hand. The opportunist's name was Javier and he outlined the price for various drop-off locations on the island by gesturing to pictures in his book and scratching figures on his forearm with a small twig. We agreed on a price and followed him through the wet rushes to his small boat. Gingerly I climbed to the front and we puttered out into the lake. I enjoyed the serene ride and congratulated myself on our choice when a ferry packed like a cattle car passed us in the opposite direction.

We climbed out on the banks of Isla del Sol just beneath the ruins of Pilko Kaina. The island is the birthplace of the sun god, Inti, and origin of the Incans' creation story; it is not difficult to imagine this mythology in the setting of watery vastness. From the windows of the ruin several snow capped mountains were perfectly framed and I pondered those that were greeted by this view each morning. We made our way into the town of Yumani near nightfall just as the first drops of rain began to fall.

The morning dawned foggy and cold. The mood was good for walking and we got an early start eating our breakfast as we went. The island was quiet and except for the occasional woman prodding donkeys along a narrow path, it was as though we were the only two in existence. We walked along the ridge of an Incan road toward the North end of the island observing small ruins along the way. Terraces gracefully cut across the hills, their peaks shrouded by clouds. The day grew hot as we approached the end of our hike and neared the ruins of Chincana. The first load of people had been delivered by the ferries and we shared the ancient sites with the sunburned hordes. We made our way to the ferry site and were overwhelmed by a certain type of traveller unique to this area.

This is where the chief cynic will step in; Mike here. Unique traveler doesn't do this crowd justice. I am not sure when hippies and hipsters (we'll call them the HIP for brevity's sake) started breeding but it has gone very wrong and the spawn is spreading at an alarming rate. The only thing worse than this would have been loud, North American HIPs. Lucky for us these were of the South American variety. Fashion seems to be what they think is a strong point but it is clearly a weakness. Baggy, pink, yellow and purple striped cotton pants, wool leg warmers of a rainbow assortment, cheesy fedoras, synthetic Alpaca-ripoff sweatshirts (clearly chosen to mismatch the pants), and a 50/50 dreadlocks/euro-cut ratio of hair style (euro-cut is defined as long on top and back and shaved on the side with the occasional sideburns). I wanted to puke. Of course I wanted to do so because a small part of me wished I was wearing this outrageous costume and the other part of me was pissed because their digs made me look like Panama Jack. You might as well get me a safari hat and a bottle of Banana Boat SPF 80. I disdain the HIPs. Can´t this boat move any faster? Sorry, no more negativity, I promise. Onward. Well kind of onward, one more side note:

Highlight of the island for me? The donkeys, definitely the donkeys. I don't think I have actually heard a donkey bray in real life until now. Heehaw is a joke. I am willing to bet Steven Spielberg anyone of his mansions that his inspiration for the mighty bellow of the T-Rex in Jurassic Park was from hearing a donkey bray. When we awoke on the island my heart nearly stopped as I stared at my glass of water waiting for the ripples to begin upon the approach of this terrifying, tiny-armed tyrant. The initial syllable of the "hee" is long and drawn out with the "haw" following like a swinging door that needs to be greased. It sounds like a T-Rex that has a squeaky chew toy stuck in his throat. The fog-laden hills and the hollow bawl sent out from the gallows of the donkey´s gut made for a surreal treat. After our boat ride it was off to Peru.

I am not sure how I would have done it, but I nearly had to give myself a swift kick to the can while deliberating our next destination. Upon news of Machu Picchu being temporarily out of service due to the train line being damaged by mudslides, Jess and I nearly bagged the idea of going to Cusco as we thought it would be useless if we couldn't see the Lost City. Thankfully, I spared myself the size sixteen striking and we put it in gear and headed to Cusco.

The bus ride there was certainly an omen of good things to come. The ride started out with a quick doze and then an awakening to a fast-talking man who I thought was an attendant of the bus service but no, he was in fact, a pusher man. "Yes amigos, you heard me clearly, you can have three weird, colorful energy packets for the price of two." Wow. This real-life infomercial took place for an entire thirty minutes. After this sasparilla-touting maniac was through, we stopped along the roadside to pick up the occasional food vendor that hops on the bus for a few kilometers selling their boiled corn or potatoes and than departs to catch another bus in the other direction. This, however, was no vegetarian delight by any means. These ladies slung their fare off their back with a loud thud. All at once everyone was very excited and started beckoning and placing orders. What are they selling we wondered from a few rows back from the action. That's when the glint of the steel caught my eye. THWACK! came the sound of the enormous cleaver hitting what sounded like flesh and bone. Was it a pig? Was it the hind quarter of a cow? Was it Steve Martin from Little Shop of Horrors? We never did see the victim; we only heard the slaughter. Only in South America...well, actually anywhere BUT North America could this happen. I couldn't help but laugh thinking we were the lucky passengers that this meat market had chosen to set up in front of; small bits of gristle soaring through the air and landing in Jess' hair. Horrid. Back to biz.

Cusco, or Qosco (it's original name in the Quechua language), means the navel of the earth and served as the center of the Incan empire. Unfortunately, the city itself has undergone a free Nordstrom's makeover by the Spanish yet it still retains its strong Incan roots and culture. I'm gonna go ahead and stick my skinny neck out here and feel free to chop it off if you want, but I think the Spanish conquest of the Americas was a massive disappointment and what has been done to this place is a disgrace. 25 Catholic churches are present in this city and nearly all of them have been built with foundations of stones that have been ripped off of Incan buildings and temples that these Old World places of worship can't begin to touch in beauty or craftsmanship. The temples and statues of the Incans have been looted and defaced in order to suppress their once vivid way of life. Stone masterpieces have been disassembled to erect the homes and churches of the Spanish conquistadors and priests. Cusco has suffered numerous earthquakes since the colonization in 1532. To this day, the stone ruins stand proudly while the white colonial houses and churches have suffered damages time and time again. I can't really get into the engineering or architectural facts here, but the masterful stone masonry of the Incans has placed the bar so high that today we can only mimic it using modern technologies that may relate in an aesthetic sense but still result in inferior products overall.

Stones that weigh more that 100 tons were moved miles (using similar methods as the Egyptian pyramids) and stacked, sometimes three tiers high, immaculately without seems wide enough for a piece of paper to pass through. The buildings and walls were built having taken into account earthquakes as well. Expansion joints of small stones were wedged between the large stones to prevent the adjacent monoliths from cracking and the trapezoid was a common shape used to create a firmer frame that would not topple or collapse like 90 degree joints often do. BORED YET? Well, I understand if you are but once you see these creations up close they will blow your mind.

Not only were these people craftsmen of the structural but they were also gurus with the natural landscape. Having harnessed natural springs and diverted rivers, the Incans created water fountains and pools that all utilized natural hydraulic systems...no electricity or man-powered pumps. Water was sacred and these fountains were often found in the religious centers or sanctuaries for the nobles. Water was of course also diverted to provide irrigation for the crops as they were also aces of agriculture. The rugged Andean terrain is very steep in places and the Incans, as well as other pre-Incan cultures, utilized the system of terracing the hillsides to maximize usable surface area for farming. Surrounding the beautiful Incan ruins exist enormous stair step terraces that slip into the fog as they reach incredibly high altitudes.

Having sculpted their homes and the surrounding soil, the Incans took to the cliffs to leave their mark. Surrounding the ruins of Ollantaytambo are rock walls where the Incans inscribed their version of Mt. Rushmore, 500 years ago. Most likely using a system like that of the modern day hanging scaffold, the Incans carved two faces into the wall. One is a crowned figure, 140 meters high, who represents a messenger of their creator who is the pilgrim preacher of knowledge and the other is the profile of an Inca (actually Inca refers to King, and only the nobles in this empire were called Incans) wearing a traditional headdress. The Incans were also very adept astronomers and the giant rock wall carving is placed so that on the day of the winter equinox, June 21st, the sun strikes the face and it appears that the face becomes the sun, representing their belief that their culture descended from the sun. Many of the ruins in the Sacred Valley were home to astronomers and had observatories where they made evaluations of constellations from which they created their calender and based much of their culture.

Although we only had four days to take in the city of Cusco and the surrounding areas we are very glad to have made our way here. A highly recommended trip. You really can't go wrong. Yes it is a drag not to see Machu Picchu but Cusco and the Sacred Valley have so much to offer it is ridiculous. Almost as ridiculous as the fact that the majority of you have just blown a half hour reading this while on the clock. BUSTED!

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Photos

Inca Trail Heading North
Ridge of Isla Del Sol

One Big Mamma Jamma
Approximated to weigh 200 tons and to have been moved by over 1,000 men

Ceremonial Fountain
Ollantaytambo

Comments

[ryan]

see you in 2 days, beyotch
dude. i will be in cusco in four weeks' time! and macchu pichu should be open by then. busted!