Touched by the Hand of God

Wednesday 28 April
Machu Picchu – Cusco

I slept really well. I had set my alarm for five so I could get ready before catching the bus at six to meet with the guide at 6.30. I came to and noticed it was light outside. If I was waking up at 5 it wouldn’t be light outside. I checked the time on my phone – it was five to six. Fuck! My alarm hadn’t gone off.

I quickly put on some clothes, gathered my things for the day and headed downstairs. I noticed there were some bread buns out for the included breakfast so I nicked a couple of those to eat on the bus. By the time I arrived at the entrance to Machu Picchu, the guide had already set off but I managed to catch up with him. I noticed that most people were out of breath whereas I wasn’t. I put that down to having been at high altitude for some time now. It certainly wasn’t down to my fitness any more, that had been slowly deteriorating since the start of the trip.

The guide was really good, full of interesting information and explaining how everything worked in the city. To be honest although Machu Picchu is a wonder of construction, the real awe for me came from the surrounding landscape. The sheer drops that surround the mountain, plus the equally dramatic mountains rising around Machu Picchu are a wonder to behold. The Andes are full of dramatic landscapes but it’s hard to picture something more dramatic than this.

It also makes you wonder at what sort of civilisation would climb such outrageous peaks and build a city on top of it. Apparently one reason was that it helped avoid the effects of earthquakes. I’m not too sure about that explanation. After all, being on top of a mountain during an earthquake would open you up to the risk of falling off, surely? But despite that, there is also the impression that somehow, being here on top of the mountain you are that much closer to god.

After the tour I wandered around a bit more and took some photos that I missed the first time. Then I toyed with the idea of staying longer, but given the rush in the morning, the fact that I hadn’t showered, my out of breathness from climbing up and down a bit too fast, and that I hadn’t eaten properly all day, I was keen to get back into town.

I headed back and had breakfast. Again. I wondered through the town a bit and then went back to the hotel and had a shower. I think check out time was actually nine (it was much later) but I didn’t call attention to myself and managed to get away with it.

I then had a lot of time to kill before I had to catch my train that evening. I went to Aguas Calientes, the hot water spring that the town is named after (it has two names, Aguas Calientes and Machu Picchu Pueblo, which means Machu Picchu town). I semi-floated in the water for a while and almost fell asleep. I had a pizza for lunch. I ended up talking to the receptionist at the hotel, teaching her a bit of English (who knew that the verb to forget is so irregular, particularly in the past tense?) and showing her my photos from Machu Picchu. She asked me to email them to her, so I did a couple of weeks later, and she thanked me for it.

Eventually it was time to catch the train so I headed off and took my seat. There was a girl sitting opposite me who noticed I had a Tribal DDB bag. She asked me about it and it turned out that she had some friend who worked there. In Germany. She was German, and unusually for a German her English wasn’t that good, or at least she was more comfortable talking in German. So we had a long conversation, based on our mutual experiences working in the New Media industry. In German.

We also talked about the trip and it turned out she had booked a package in advance, like me, but everything had gone wrong for her. Nothing was where it was supposed to be when she arrived at the places. I thanked my luck that I hadn’t had those problems. Eventually we arrived at Piscacucho and took a bus back to Ollantaytambo. On the way there was a big lighting rig illuminating the area where some big machines were working. As I looked behind us I saw what was left of the railway when it had been washed away in the recent floods. There was the railway line, and there was a small cliff, where the water had removed all of the ground underneath the rail lines. All that was left were two steel rails, poking out over nothing, and the river flowing fast beneath it. It was quite a dramatic sight.

Back in Ollantaytambo we were due to change buses again, but German girl already had it in her mind that there would be no transport, so while everyone else got on a big coach, she walked in the opposite direction. I felt compelled to follow her so I did, and the coach left without us. Instead we eventually arranged a taxi to take us back to Cusco. I slept most of the way but German girl was kept awake by the reckless driving. I’d seen it all before. I was pretty sure I’d survive.

Back in town we said our goodbyes. It was a shame we had to part as we were getting on well and I was thinking naughty thoughts. I went back to the hostel. There was a good band playing with a frontman who looked like an Inca version of Anthony Keidis – i.e. like him but shorter, with black hair and dark skin. After that I found some random person to go out with, and headed to a club called Mythology. It was a pretty cool place and I had so much fun I lost my keys.