At four this afternoon I fly out to Iquitos, so here is a rapid-fire post of my most recent adventures. We will actually get to spend some time with an indigenous community: the Yarina in my case. Then we will spend a couple more days in Iquitos and Lima.
This past Saturday was heavenly. We were eight students, one knowledgeable guide, and one driver in a private van gallivanting about the Valle Sagrado. The group of students had a nice dynamic that certainly enhanced the experience.
We began in Chincheros and saw the local weavers doing their spinning, dyeing, and looming. The local Apus (sacred mountain peaks) blessed us with fabulous weather. From Chincheros we proceeded to the Salineras salt mines of the small town of Maras. Salt lagoons decorated the sodium rich valley and it looked like snow. We were also offered the alcoholic form of chicha Peru's maize beer and most of us enjoyed it.
We then proceeded to the Moray ruins for my second time. Our guide’s crowbar-like tongue got me into the ruins even though my boleto turistico was already used at Moray. One of the girls in the group led us in a fifteen-minute yoga session at the bottom of the concentric terraces. To top it off, we got to savor the sight of an Andean caracara rebuffing the high-altitude winds.
The bus smelt of palta [avocado] as we packed down deeper into the Valley past Urubamba and into Ollantaytambo. We climbed the Ollantaytambo ruins with gusto, as they had tempted us so on the various trips past them before. We fed off each other's excitement. Our guide did the ruins justice and the elements did them better. The Incas built Ollantaytambo at the confluence of the Urubamba and a tributary. This forms a marvelous gale throughout the site.
Ultimately, we made the ascent to the Pisac ruins! We jumped out of the bus and fell tripping up the mountain to one of the peaks above the ruins. Eric and I were consuming the stairs, ledges, and slopes while singing at each other in something like Swahili. We rested at the apex of a ridge overlooking the ruins, the city of Pisac, and the Urubamba River. Only our group of eight was in the park. The wind and cold began to whip as the sun set over the next mountain, so Eric and I started into the labyrinth of ruins and got lost for a while. A few jumps through un-thatched roofs saw us out.
Sunday morning I made a solo mission to the ruins of Tipon. They are about 35 minutes from Cuzco situated high upon the eastern ridge of the Valle Cusqueño. Masterful irrigation, baths, and fountains abound--many of them continue flowing. Leaving the park was spectacular because I stomped most of the way down a path descending the mountain toward the town of Tipon. I was raised from my balmy siesta in a shady oasis of eucalyptus by a van on the nearby road. I asked the three ladies for a lift. These amiable, musician-cinematographer-vegetarian ladies took me past the city of Tipon all the way to the entrance of my neighborhood.
Cuzco has been a blast so far and navigating the city is getting progressively easier! Now it’s time to finish packing for Iquitos. Ciao!
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