There are some things that, despite the hype, don´t disappoint.
Michelangelo´s David.
Casablanca, the movie. Bob Dylan´s
Highway 61 Revisited. Add Macchu Picchu to that list. My dad has had this life-long dream of seeing the ¨lost city¨ of the Incas, nestled in the Andes. And that was their real reason for coming to Cuzco: finally seeing Macchu Picchu in person seemed the ideal way to celebrate his 60th birthday. And it was dazzling.
There is nothing like approaching a place at dawn to reveal its magic. Getting there early also lets you avoid the crowds that swoop in around 10 am. We splept overnight at Aguas Calientes, which, according to Lonley Planet is the ugliest, most exploitive town in Peru, and based on my admittedly limited experience, I´m inclined to agree. (When we got in late at night, our guide didn´t show up to meet us at the train station and the hostel we were supposed to stay in had no record of our reservation . . . and they were full. We were SURE our travel agent had cheated us, but after some deep breathing and a more extended converstation, it turned out the agent had just given the hostel her name, not ours, and we did in fact have a place to stay.) But it was worth the stay in order to get on the first bus up the mountain at 5:30 am and watch the light begin to illuminate the mists of the cloud forests as we wound our way up, switchback by switchback.
The architecture is fascinating, the engineering is ingenious (how DID they get those huge rocks up there?) and the llamas are alluring (see them harassing my mother, left.) But the true wonder of Machu Picchu is how seamlessly it is woven into its setting. As my mother said again and again, the Incas sure knew about creating dramatic composition. Nothing about this place was accidental, from the orientation of windows, to the position of the temple of the sun, to the placement of the city in front of the magestic singular peak that turns a group of pretty cool ruins into something awe-inspiring.
That singular peak, the one you see in all the postcard shots (like the one with my dad above), is called Wayna Picchu, and as soon as buses dropped us off, Jackie (who came with us), Dad and I made a b-line to its entrance at far side of Macchu Picchu. (Mom joined the tour and then perched herself on a vista to draw.) To prevent errosion, only allow 400 people are allowed
to climb its steep steps daily. So by 6:30, we were in line to be part of the first group up at 7 am. The climb consisted mostly of steps (sometimes 2 feet high) carved into the mountain face with cables bolted into the rock to give you something to hold onto. Dad was determined to do it and the fact that his 60th birthday was last week wasn´t about to stop him. When we got to the top, it was REALLY the top . . we climbed through a cave and up a ladder the led to the cluster of bolders the crown the moutnain. The view from all sides, particularly the birds eye view of Macchu Picchu (left), was just breathtaking.
There are some things that, despite the hype, don´t disappoint. Michelangelo´s David. Casablanca, the movie. Bob Dylan´s Highway 61 Revisited. Add Macchu Picchu to that list. My dad has had this life-long dream of seeing the ¨lost city¨ of the Incas, nestled in the Andes. And that was their real reason for coming to Cuzco: finally seeing Macchu Picchu in person seemed the ideal way to celebrate his 60th birthday. And it was dazzling.
The architecture is fascinating, the engineering is ingenious (how DID they get those huge rocks up there?) and the llamas are alluring (see them harassing my mother, left.) But the true wonder of Machu Picchu is how seamlessly it is woven into its setting. As my mother said again and again, the Incas sure knew about creating dramatic composition. Nothing about this place was accidental, from the orientation of windows, to the position of the temple of the sun, to the placement of the city in front of the magestic singular peak that turns a group of pretty cool ruins into something awe-inspiring. 
That singular peak, the one you see in all the postcard shots (like the one with my dad above), is called Wayna Picchu, and as soon as buses dropped us off, Jackie (who came with us), Dad and I made a b-line to its entrance at far side of Macchu Picchu. (Mom joined the tour and then perched herself on a vista to draw.) To prevent errosion, only allow 400 people are allowed 
to climb its steep steps daily. So by 6:30, we were in line to be part of the first group up at 7 am. The climb consisted mostly of steps (sometimes 2 feet high) carved into the mountain face with cables bolted into the rock to give you something to hold onto. Dad was determined to do it and the fact that his 60th birthday was last week wasn´t about to stop him. When we got to the top, it was REALLY the top . . we climbed through a cave and up a ladder the led to the cluster of bolders the crown the moutnain. The view from all sides, particularly the birds eye view of Macchu Picchu (left), was just breathtaking. 
No comments:
Post a Comment