And We Were Only At 1,800 Metres

Monday 15 January

We woke up this morning to the pleasant thought that we would be leaving our “cell” room today. This is definitely the worst room we have had on all of our trip so far (other than the village barn in Northern Thailand, but that doesn’t count as a hotel) , and we won’t be sorry to leave it. The downside is that we still have to return to this hotel twice more – both overnighters - so will have to make sure we are allocated a different room. We were leaving our large cases for the next couple of nights while we visited the Sacred Valley and Machu Picchu.

Arturo arrived promptly at 09.00 and ushered us to the waiting car where we were introduced to Jaime, our driver for the day. We set out following the road we had traveled yesterday - driving much faster than our previous drivers - past Saqsayhuaman and Tambomachay and on to the road leading through the Sacred Valley. It was so named because the Incas were farmers and needed more land to grow crops and raise animals - to feed the citizens of Cusco in this area. They found this wide flat valley protected by towering mountains, which was extremely fertile and could easily be cultivated. As well as the valley floor, terraces went high up the mountainside. The Incas used terraces for three reasons: a.) it was difficult to find sufficient land as less than 10% of Peru can be used for farming – the coast is too dry, the interior mountains are impossible to cultivate and the jungle was densely forested (the Incas never actually reached the jungle); b.) terraces stop landslides; and c.) it allowed them to acclimatize for different crops at varying altitudes – they were very industrious about finding new crops that could grow out of their normal environment – an earlier version of GM, I suppose.

Today the valley is still heavily farmed, growing mainly corn and potatoes, but also some sugar cane and many staple vegetables. We stopped at an observation point on the hillside and looked down over a town, where we could see the church in the centre, but no central square, showing its Peruvian origins. The houses were scattered higgledy piggledy around a bend in the valley. We continued on along the road following the river as it twisted in and out of the bluffs of the mountains. The corn – or maize – are just ready to be harvested and we saw women in the fields inspecting the crop, before picking started.

Further up the valley we turned off to a small town called Pisac, where the streets were very narrow – only just wide enough for one vehicle – and almost immediately got stuck behind a van delivering plastic containers of bottles and other goods to the local shops. Several drivers behind us kept tooting he took a right turn. At the top of the road was the main square, filled today with market stalls, all displaying gaily coloured wares – shawls, knitted garments, wall hangings, jewellery and pottery. We wandered around to the far side of the square where there was a row of more ‘modern’ shops. At the beginning of this row, was a long pole – about 10ft tall – with a small wicker basket attached to the top, standing up by the wall. Apparently this indicated that there was a bakers shop there, and that bread was available. Sure enough, just a few metres along the row, was a large clay bakers oven, with lots of bread and rolls and small patisseries on display. Next door to the bakers was a three storey, clay ‘model’ of a hacienda, inhabited by about thirty or more guinea pigs. In the local houses, these animals would be kept in the kitchen next to the fire, to keep them warm. I thought about the one I had seen last night on a dinner plate, which had seemed huge compared with these small furry fellows, and still don’t think I want to taste one.

There was also a silver shop in the row, and as I have been missing my rings since I left home, I bought three, for the massive price of around 12 GBP each. All three are quite pretty and will hopefully stop me peering into every jeweler’s window for the rest of our journey. Arturo tried to entice us to buy more, and if we had the space in our cases he might have been successful, but we only have to think about getting through the airport, to know we cannot carry anything extra.

Although there are Inca remains at Pisac, we made our way up the valley to Ollantaytambo, where there is a large site of an old Inca town, behind the present day settlement. On the way we saw many long sticks with red plastic bags attached - more road signs – this time to indicate that there was a bar closeby! The main road suddenly turned sharp right to bump up a steep hill paved with rough cobble stones, then twisting and turning along the side of the mountain. By the time we reached the first sign of houses, the road had become wide enough for about one and a half cars, but we met several large lorries and coaches coming the other way, Everyone had to squeeze over, till they are almost inside someone’s front room, in order to pass. We eventually emerged into the large town square – more signs of Spanish influence - which was full of local people, adults doing their shopping and children playing in the centre of the square. We parked the car between some coaches and walked around some of the back streets, before finding the entrance to the Inca site.

We could see the ancient settlement rising up the side of the mountain, lots of steps and more terraces, storage houses, burial chambers and remnants of a palace and several temples on a high bluff. This town is at the confluence of two valleys and the old Inca town was built high up to protect it from invasion. The left hand valley led to Machu Picchu. When Ollantaytambo was attacked by the Spanish in the late 1530’s, the leader of the tribe ordered the valley to Machu Picchu to be blocked and led the invading armies along the other valley towards another town. We can only suppose that Machu Picchu was already a very important place that needed to be protected. But the Spanish were only interested in finding gold, silver and other precious metals as they roamed the land, pillaging and destroying everything they found that was Incan, so they never investigated the other valley and therefore never found Machu Picchu,

We started climbing up the 300 steps to the top of the site, which were quite steep in places and by the time we were halfway up, I was beginning to feel decidedly unwell. But, maybe stupidly, I carried on as I wanted to see the temples and palaces at the top, built of huge, huge stones, some weighing well over 100 tons. At the peak we could see the quarry on the other side of the valley and the path that the stones had been transported along to the ramp where the stones were hauled up the mountainside to be carved and positioned, again fitting together perfectly. Some stones were still sitting on small brick ramps, as they had been left while still being carved. Along what seemed to be goat tracks going further round the mountain, were the burial chambers – Incas always buried their bodies above ground, usually in niches, high up the mountain, closer to their gods – and storage houses for the crops and meat, which were often dried or salted to provided food all year round. I was feeling quite ill by now as we made our way back down to the base to visit the water temple, where water from the nearby spring still spurts from rocks channeled by the Incas, and the nearby houses of the local priests and important people of the community. Ordinary people would have lived on their land, around the settlement, and only came into the citadel when they were attacked. We made our way out of the ruins and back to the car, for a twenty minute journey, back the way we had come, to a restaurant for lunch.

We turned down a dusty narrow lane with buildings on one side and a field of corn on the other. At the end of the lane, overlooking the river, stood a large “hacienda” style building, white plastered with lots of arches along a front colonnade, set within beautiful gardens full of colourful flowers – roses, geraniums, daisies, fuchsias – and trimmed lawns – it looked just like a cottage garden in England. Apparently this restaurant had only been built eight years ago, but it looked like an ancient building that had been restored. We entered to find ourselves in a very long hall, stretching the width of the building (must have been at least 20 metres) with tables set out around the walls, with all sorts of well presented foods – soup, salads and cold dishes, hot main courses and lots of desserts. We were shown to a table on the balcony overlooking the river Urubamba, and were immediately presented with “pisco sours” – a brandy and egg white concoction that is the national drink. Feeling horrid, I only had a couple of sips of my drink, although Colin finished his and declared it tasty and interesting – the egg white whisked and floating on the top, with a touch of angostura bitters put me off. Arturo sat with us and the two men were soon off finding gourmet delights for lunch. I probably would have liked a bowl of soup – I was feeling cold and shivery by now – but the soup was quinoa, which I don’t like (makes me sound fussy, but I am not a grainy sort of person), so I chose a variety of cold vegetable salads on a small plate, which I managed to pick at, while the men went through four courses, and Colin even had seconds of dessert. The muddy brown river rushing noisily past us as it bounced over rocks and whirlpools on its way past Machu Picchu would eventually join up with the Amazon. The furniture was very dark wood, with leather strips for seats and back rests on the chairs, which were unexpectedly comfortable. There were patio heaters near each table – in the winters here, although the sun shines every day, the temperatures drop to single figures, so heaters would be a necessity.

By the time the meal was over, I was extremely pleased to hear we were going straight to the hotel, only ten minutes up the road. Turning down another narrow lane, we had surprise – the hotel - the Sol y Luna was a series of round individual rooms with thatched roofs, set in more really beautiful gardens, with flowers blooming in a riot of colour. Bees were humming in the long stemmed lavender, while humming birds fluttered above. As we were taken along the path to our room, the sun was now shining brightly – it had been overcast most of the morning – and we could smell the roses and other fragrances as they drifted in the light afternoon breeze. But all I wanted to do was to flop into bed. I think climbing the steps at Ollantaytambo had brought on another attack of altitude sickness, although we were now only at about 1,800 metres.

I stayed in bed for the rest of the day. Before Colin went for a walk in the grounds, he set the heater going so it was nice and toasty in the room. He returned later with some pills to settle my stomach and stop my aches and pains – which did work – although I was still shivering and felt ‘fizzy’. He did some work on the computer and ‘read’ his book – it was such a shame as the hotel was top class. Colin went to dinner on his own – he wasn’t very happy about it, but there was no way I could get up, never mind sit at the table and eat. I slept while he was out and by the time he came back I was beginning to feel more human again, but still cold and achy. The computer connected to the internet here, free of charge too, so Colin read me my emails - one from Juz, two from Millie and one from Kumuka, who are interested to know if I would like to fill in a questionnaire about my holidays with them in Thailand, Malaysia and Singapore, for a new magazine they are producing – I don’t think they can have read my comment sheets at the end of each section – I seem to remember they weren’t very positive.

We didn’t do a lot else tonight - Colin listened to some more of his book on his MP4 and I went to sleep again. Just hope I am feeling better tomorrow as we are off to Machu Picchu.