Cusco and Machu Picchu

Cusco is so pretty! Clare and I walked around arm in arm repeating over and over again how lovely it is and how much we love it here. We´re like magpies in the markets darting toward anything shiny and/or colorful and continually buying each other friendship tokens to commemorate the mood. Although beautiful, it´s pretty gringo-y. Most bars feel like a flashback to South Beach circa 1991 and it´s hard to escape the hamburger/pizza/Mexican food places fighting over you as you pass by. The best part about being here though is our steal of a hostal. At $18 a night (3x the price of most places I´ve stayed in while travelling) we have a clean and enormous bathroom complete with the ever illusive hot shower, comfy beds and cable TV! However, like with all things when travelling, you can´t stay forever so we moved on to Aguas Calientes to see Machu Picchu.

We thought we would save a fortune by doing the D.I.Y. path to Machu Picchu. After all said and done though we payed basically the same amount (close to $200) doing it on our own than a 4 day, 3 night all inclusive jungle version of the Inca Trail. Another factor was saving time but since we´re caught in a transit strike we´re stuck in this town anyway. So…we tried to make the best of it with 4×1 (you heard me, four for the price of one) happy hours and a thermal hot spring.  When you walk down these tiny streets, people hawk their deals and fight for your business. Clare and I actually stood between two restaurants while each of them auctioned off the free shit they would offer us. One side promised 4×1 and nachos, whereas the other was 4×1 and popcorn. “Sorry, nachos win” to which the other one says “ok, ok, nachos tambien”. Then the other one yells “nachos con guacamole” and that seals our fate. Guacamole definitely beats popcorn and we settle down with the winning bid. Two drinks into the 4×1 Clare and I are already giddy and working on the book idea I´ve had for a while. Ironically, it´s a book on nutrition and all around healthy living as we devour nachos and sugary cocktails. In mock, drunken slurs we have funny conversations that either attract other tourists or send them scurrying by faster. We´re obviously not your average beige and khaki wearing trekkers. We´re fun, accesorized, Brooklyn girls saying things under our breath like, “Where´s my third drink, honey? I ain´t here for the mirador (spanish for view point)”. Or my all time favorite to the wearisome travellers coming off the Inca Trail…”You walked here? Big deal. We´re writing a book”.

The next morning, Clare and I were on the 5:30 am bus to Machu Picchu. From the moment I woke up, I knew something was wrong. Go figure, after 4 months of adventurous, street meat meals I get food poisoning..from a restaurant..the day I want to hike Machu Picchu! Because we were the first 400 people to arrive we got the option of hiking the mountain that looks down on the site. By the time I was at the top, I felt like shit. By the time I was back at the bottom, I felt like death. I walked to the base of an Incan stairway and layed down. With the exception of leaning over the edge to vomit, I didn´t move from that spot for the rest of the day. I´m sure I ruined many a photo op for the rest of the travellers that day, especially considering Incan structures are tiny, I am not. My body barely fit on the step I was trying to perch on and the only position I could keep my legs in without them going numb was basically spread eagle. I forbade Clare to miss this opportunity too so she at least got to see the site as I drifted in and out of conciousness in between her check ups on me. Once the rains came, I knew I had missed my chance of hiking through Machu Picchu and got back onto the bus. Back to our gross, mildewy, $5 a day hostal we went. I didn´t even have the energy to take off my shoes, let alone move hostals so I layed there like a dehydrated mess breathing in mold and eavsdropping on the insanely loud and poorly dubbed action flick playing in the lobby. I had the kind of dreamless sleep where you don´t know if it´s been minutes or hours and only left that bed for violent fits of nausea in the bathroom. All I thought the whole time was a) I want my mommy and b) This wouldn´t be so bad if I were back in that Cusco hotel room with cable!