Machu Picchu

I think it’s fair to say, we’ve been consistently late for most things during this trip. Not ‘we’re going to miss the plane’ late, but definitely running behind time give or take 15 minutes. So imagine our surprise when we arrived at the train station the next morning for our (oh so very) early train to Machu Picchu to find a practically deserted station and empty train. I thought there’d been a mass extinction. Or maybe we’d just got the hang of this being up and about at the crack of dawn business. Our main concern was how to get down to 10kg of weight (our allowed baggage between the 3 of us) the night before, and we hoped that one small suitcase and a baby carrier would pass under the gazeful watch of the inspectors as we were eventually let on the carriage. We shouldn’t have worried. Granted, we weren’t allowed to take much but as with most people, we left our mountain of luggage at our hotel in Cuzco and no-one was being particularly overzealous with the weighing scales. As we made ourselves comfortable and prepared Leo’s breakfast, we met our train buddies for the next few hours, a lovely couple from Bolivia who were charmed by Leo and with whom we chatted for the entire journey. I barely noticed the breathtaking scenery as we chugged past (this has to be the slowest train I’ve ever been on- not counting London to Manchester on a Sunday night-the distance to Machu Picchu is 120km and it took us 4 hours to get there, you do the math), the mountains became more dramatic as we slid through the valley until we were hitting what is considered the beginning of the rainforest. We disembarked the train as the rain began to fall, first slowly then as a heavy downpour that we tried to find shelter in the nearby tourist trap market.

On asking for a taxi to our hotel, our question was met with a smirk and a direction to ‘not far up the way’. We realised the reason for the smirk as we ran up the hill to find our hotel before the rain ruined our hair (Leo was particularly concerned) was that there were no cars, let alone taxis in the small town named ‘aguas calientes’; the name for the collection of buildings and streets bordering the river that storms through its middle. On stumbling into our hotel, we were met with the news that there was no electricity, there hadn’t been any for the previous 3 days but they were hopeful for a return to service in the very near future. Fantastic. With the prospect of staying indoors while the rain cleared with no tv, radio or internet we did what any self respecting young family would do, slept. And when we woke, it was still raining. A trip out to find food was tentatively made with the thought that without electricity, God only knows what sort of culinary delights this town would be able to offer us. Our only hope was that we wouldn’t be poisoned.

We stopped in an empty kind of place that was ambitiously still offering us their entire menu. We chose an innocuous pasta and sauce and promptly began refuelling Leo whilst he entertained the locals with his red hair, chubby cheeks and endless smiling. When the food arrived it was indeed cooked, albeit by candlelight, and looked, well ok. Except that Ari’s spaghetti neopolitana (recipe reminder-spaghetti and tomato sauce) had bits of meat in it. ‘No no no!’ Ari exclaimed as he sent the food back. He was taking no chances of acquiring any Peruvian belly. The plate arrived a little later sans meat, meaning, they’d literally picked out the bits of meat for him. You could tell this from the little bits of meat they’d missed, still sitting sneakily in the sauce. Darn that pesky candlelight. So what to do except pray that the Peruvian belly angel would pass over and let us visit Machu Picchu unhindered the following day.

As lunchtime passed the rain began to lift, and though it was too late for us to venture to take the trip up the great mountain we decided to get out and about and visit the thermal waters that give aguas calientes its name. The open air pools are situated in spectacular surroundings, bordered by mountains with the river plundering on by. The pools are not that great in themselves, fairly crowded but at least provide some (and the only) entertainment in this purpose built tourist village. One slight problem, our luggage allowance didn’t permit bringing swimming cozzies so we had to go in the nude. No of course we didn’t, we did the next worst thing, hired some. Gross and not proud of it, but needs must I’m afraid. Alas I have no photographic evidence of this, but needless to say, we looked dazzling. Leo had to make do with his nappy, which despite swelling to the size of a beach ball, served its purpose adequately enough.

As the excitement of the day faded with the sunlight, we headed home for an extremely early night, had a bit of food and headed to bed like wee Willy Winky by candlelight. And suddenly lo and behold- we had electro light! So not quite such an early night, but we had an early start to get the bus up the mountain the next day so willingly we turned in.

We’d organised a guide for the following day who’d agreed to meet us at 7.30am (some eager beavers set off at 5.30am). After some waiting around we realised that he was annoyingly a no show so a little later than anticipated, headed off on our own to catch the bus, safe in the knowledge we could find one at the top for a reasonable price. The ascent was a windy one, but as the mountain unfolded infront of our eyes we barely noticed the dramatic rise in height. We were extremely lucky, the sun was out and it was lovely and bright, the perfect, perfect morning. The only thing clouding my mind was a little apprehension about Leo. Absolutely nothing was wrong, he was happy as Larry (who’s Larry?) in his backpack, and everyone was, as usual, very amused by his presence. What can I say except that I allowed myself to worry about taking him up the mountain, when I can safely say there was no reason to worry at all.

We disembarked at the top and we were surprised to see, a hotel, a restaurant, all your facilities needed for a pleasant few hours meandering. A guide approached us to offer her services in English, to which we happily agreed. A few steps into the complex and there you have it, the marvel that is the ancient citadel of the Incas. Despite it being a very famous image, it is definitely worth the visit in real life. What surprised me was the scale of it, it it’s time it was a full city housing around 800 people of various stations and functions, and as you can see from the photos a population of inquisitive llamas! The sun was really strong and there was no shade while wandering round the fallen walls, except for a little hut half way round the route. One let down was to be the quality of our guide. Young, inexperienced and with faulty English she gave us little information we didn’t already know, often I had to break into Spanish so we could understand each other, which for me isn’t too much of a trial but for Ari more of a let down. Luckily we had a little Inca knowledge from our previous tours and rested in the knowledge of that this experience was all about being there, rather than hearing about it. We rather enjoyed ourselves more when she’d gone, leaving us to get lost in the ruins, climb to get the best views and take too many photos of llamas. I was completely at ease now, and could really take in where I was. Many people think the place has a spiritual feel to it. I can’t honestly say I felt that myself, far too much was going on around me, I was tending to Leo, many tourists distracting etc, but I really felt the beauty of the mountains and the power of the earth and nature that created the surroundings, and I could have sat there just looking around all day. Unfortunately we didn’t have all day, and as dark clouds loomed ahead we took the opportunity to get back down to ground level before the heavens opened. Just as we were reluctantly descending, we came across another young family, with a 1 year old in tow! We greeted each other knowingly, and I felt pleased to see others doing the same as us. It is so possible to see these things with baby, certain things must be compromised, such as late nights, boozy nights out, the inca trail is a complete no no ( and hats off to anyone who has done this, it looks bloody hard work but I’m sure an unforgettable experience) but still, it’s so wonderful!

The rest of our stay in aguas calientes was (obviously) relatively uneventful, except to say that it literally poured it down with rain that afternoon, throughout the night, and most of the next day up to our departure the following afternoon. We were unbelievably lucky with the weather, we’d unknowingly come on the cusp of rainy season and escaped unscathed. And no Peruvian belly to speak of either. At the train station, we got chatting to a group of American tourists (is there a collective? I like gaggle..) who were on a ‘round the world’ tour in 3 and a half weeks by private jet. We goggled as they described their itinerary, Machu Picchu one day, Easter island the next, followed by Samoa, Australia, Cambodia, China, India, Tanzania, Egypt and Morocco. Turns out the one morning they had to visit this Inca civilisation was the one it poured it down and they were a somewhat miffed. Guess you can’t buy everything.

Our return journey dragged, despite the train staff’s best efforts to entertain by putting on a dance and fashion show (see photos of a very fetching cardigan), and after many many hours we arrived back in Cuzco for our overnight stay before heading off to the Sacred Valley of the Incas.

Cuzco

I could have kissed the ground on arrival to this, the ancient capital of the Incas. What a relief to get out of Puno! We arrived to our lovely new hotel, a small place with the same homely feel as the one in Arequipa (again, good old trip advisor).
As the capital of the Inca civilisation, there is much to see here in Cuzco, and as we had already lost a day we were eager beavers to explore while we had the chance. Unfortunately it began to rain heavily as we arrived, but expectant that it would only last an hour or so we headed off to the centre. After a supermarket shop (these along with trips to pharmacies are among my favourite pastimes..!) we were dropped in a lovely colonial square, the plaza de armas. At least we guessed it would be lovely if it weren't for the torrential downpour that impaired our view, having not abated as expected. Luckily entrepreneurial locals were selling attractive plastic ponchos which even fashion conscious Ari was forced to wear. Leo was safely tucked up in his pushchair and I wished I was too as the water rose up my jeans. Not a wise choice of outfit. We'd actually forgotten how debilitating rain can be, not having had much of it throughout our journey so far. A trip to find some Inca antiques was abandoned after shopowners followed the buggy round with a mop and we sought refuge in a restaurant recommended to us by the hotel. Just off the main square, this restaurant called Greens was a lovely organic, veggie friendly place that was refuge not only from the rain but from all the restaurants we'd been to serving questionable dishes over the last month. We hungrily lapped up their delights before heading back to our new home to dry off for the night.
We'd organised a city tour for the following day with a private guide to turn us into learned historians of the Inca civilisation. A pitstop to the train station to confirm our tickets to Machu Picchu and get a refund for our redundant Puno-Cuzco trip took an hour of our day (whoever said you need to be patient in Peru was not wrong) but soon enough to explore the Inca ruins. Our guide Diana was excellent and thorough and it was really fascinating to learn to the ways of this successful albeit briefly lived empire. What is amazing is that it took little over 300 years for the Incas to establish and spread from lake Titicaca up to Ecuador, down to Chile and across to Argentina, a feat that took the Romans a millennium. Their stonework is beautiful and easily identifiable, as several streets in Cuzco retain the inca walls as their base, the colonial or modern restoration or replacement looks scrappy in comparison.



I can't help feeling a bit nostalgic for this world that I never knew, the colonists as ever destroyed and looted much and kept precious few buildings intact. Still much remains and is known about the time of the Incas from Spanish chroniclers as the end of the empire came with the invasion of the Spanish, in 1533. Get me, all knowledgeable like. Like I said, really interesting stuff.




Later in the afternoon we took a wander in the main town, without the rain painting its picture of gloom the square looked beautiful, bordered with churches and colonial architectural style. We renewed our hunt for Inca antiques, but gave up on the basis that they would be hard to find, difficult to get out the country and impossible for us to know whether what we were buying was the genuine article. On our hunt we made inquiries into a jewelery shop, only to be confronted by a strange man named Jesus who claimed to be a Shaman that only let people with positive auras into his shop. He began to read Ari's aura until we made our excuses and left post haste. I felt uncomfortable with his pushy demeanour and Ari found nothing but generic postulations in his analysis. When we want to consult a Shaman we'll ask for one thanks.



It was getting late so we headed home, getting past my bedtime at 8 o'clock(!), something to do with these early starts and the altitude I reckon, and got ourselves ready for the early (always why so early?) train to Machu Picchu.

Puno and Lake Titicaca

We arrived to the airport nearest Puno (Juliaca) early in the morning with our suitcases trailing us whilst looking for a taxi ride to our new destination for the next few days. A burly guy approached us purposefully to offer his services, and so we rolled into his cab looking forward to hitting a comfortable bed as soon as possible, as between the ridiculously early start and the new high altitude of 3680m I particularly was on my hands and knees with tiredness. The first thing of note about our journey was his method of driving. Erratic turned into impatient turned into downright reckless. This man was on some sort of mission other than getting us safely to our hotel. Juliaca is a pretty grim place, a sandy chaotic town that serves as a centre of commerce to the local area. The traffic was completely mental and this driver was definitely at home in amongst it. The second thing of note was the number of crosses and shrines along a straight, otherwise innocuous single laned road, I nervously approximated about every 100 metres whilst praying that we would arrive in one piece. Anyway, needless to say we did get to our new hotel alive and despite having the feeling we'd just been stung good and proper on the price of the fare we or should I say 'I' virtually passed out from exhaustion. Our hotel, as well as being a rest for the weary was located right on the lake, which meant we had a fantastic view from our bedroom window.

After a couple of hours rest I did feel much better, but it is a funny thing this altitude business. I can't say I've really suffered much, but there was the persistent headache that took a day to fade, a slight bleeding nose (gross, sorry) and the tiredness that knocks you for six. Leo slept too, but as far as I could tell seemed to suffer no ill effects at all.


Puno is the main Peruvian town on the famous mystical lake Titicaca. Our hotel was right on the lakeside and we had fantastic views of the water from our room. We spent a day meandering (we do a lot of meandering it seems) in Puno and realised the town wasn't up to much and was really a gateway to the lake and Bolivia, which shares the lake with the border running right down the middle.


There are a few local delicacies to be had here. I normally don't feel compelled to try the local cuisine if it's not what you might find in your average local restaurant but I did manage to try some Alpaca meat (not bad) whilst downright rejecting the popular cuy (guinea pig) on the basis of the rat on a skewer like pictures posted within the restaurant

The main event of our time here was the tour we took to visit the ancient peoples of the lake; the Uros, a community living on floating islands following the customs of their ancestors going back a thousand years, and the islanders of Taquile, who live a happy existence on dry land about 35 kilometers east of Puno.

The Uros live a strange existence on floating islands of reeds. For one thing there community is really close to the mainland, so the first thing that struck me was, why don't they just come to shore? Makes for a much easier lifestyle I think. The answer must be a commitment to their traditions and ancestral heritage, but in fact the population is dwindling as they discover the benefits of the modern age and seek a better lifestyle on dry land. The reasons their ancestors had for taking to the lake (escape from slavery to the Incas) no longer hold but the Uros now maintain their community and support themselves by fishing, by the reeds of the water and by the constant flux of tourism that comes to visit, I presume on a daily basis. Despite the obvious 'tourist trap' nature of the visit, I did feel for the people of the Uros, this harsh existence is a reality for them, as their life expectancy is 60 years of age (as opposed to the other dry land islanders who expect to live to a ripe old age of 80). Their 'president' took time to explain the nature of their existence, he seemed a gentle, peaceful man full of chirpy anectodes. For example; they have to anchor their islands to the lake base- if not, they may find they have drifted into Bolivian territory and unfortunately he doesn't have a passport to enter! And if on their island, there is a man who is a bit lazy and doesn't want to do his fair share of the work, they say 'no problem!' and proceed to chop his portion of the island off the communal one and wish him luck!

The sun beat down on us and our visit to the Uros was quite pleasant, but I can't imagine what life must be like in the cold, wind and rain. No wonder they don't live very long.
We were taken across to the other group of floaters via their impressive boat made out of reeds, while the villagers (for want of a better word) sang and danced to us in questionable English-"hasta la vista baby" it appears is now a universal phrase, thanks be to Arnie- we sailed off waving back. On the boat there was a mother and child accompanying us for the ride, and as a fellow mother I got chatting to her. I asked where she had her baby, and I couldn't believe it when she said 'here, in the Uros'. And I decided against having a home birth in Hampstead...


After we'd said our goodbyes and bought a few souvenirs it was time to sail to the next island, Taquile. I'd half expected it to be another floater, but this time we were to disembark on dry land. Despite being only 35 km from our starting point in Puno, it took us HOURS to get there, and I'm no sailor but I could tell by the chug chug nature of our boat we were in no danger of breaking any speed limits. Now, as I've mentioned earlier, traveling with baby means we usually come equipped with more baggage than most, but I have to say that as well as Leo being a star traveler we're usually very efficient in not delaying tour groups etc with our extra demands. That not withstanding we do appreciate a little allowance for, for example, getting prepared for a trek across the island. Not our lovely tour guide. He'd already almost left us behind once in the Uros and now he'd marched off with the rest of the group leaving us adjusting Leo into our baby carrier and hoping that there was only one route to the restaurant we were supposed to visit. His main concern was that we knew the name of our boat so we didn't accidentally end up on one going back to Bolivia (I imagine this has been the fate of some unlucky folk) but apart from that it seemed he didn't give two sh*ts where we ended up. Chances of a tip fading fast it seemed.
Fortunately the hike up the hill (an absolute killer with this altitude!) was straight forward and we managed to rejoin the group as they sat for the meal.


The island is, again pretty primitive, and we waited with baited breath for the set meal they were to present to us. But what was served was a delicious banquet of quinoa soup and grilled trout to our great surprise. Quinoa is actually a Peruvian speciality and this superfood plus a vegetarian diet is what the Taquil-eans attribute to their long life, alongside a penchant for parties and festivities. They proceeded to show us a courtship dance which was lovely, apparently the boys and girls are categorised into single and married according to the type of hat they wear, think of it as the predecessor to our traffic light parties (red-no way Jose, amber-maybe if I've had enough to drink, green-bring it on baby!). Least there's no pointless chit chat and money wasted on drinks to show for it all..
We got chatting to a lovely Russian couple and their friend (hi Anton and Katja) who have a baby girl staying back home with Grandma. We gleefully exchanged many a baby tale over the course the meal and the rest of the day. Across the table from us was a barmy New Zealand lady who (and I know this parallel to Australians may be upsetting to Kiwis but I am a Brit afterall..) reminded me of Kath from Kath and Kim. She was inquiring about something to do with the food and Katya politely responded to her questions. Now I'm sure they won't mind me saying but despite having an obvious Russian accent our new friends spoke perfect English, which begged an subsequent astonished response from them when the Kath's response was " Oh sorry darl I don't speak Spanish.." Mucho giggles thus ensued.
With Anton and Katya looking after us while the rest of the group sprinted off we walked to the main square to take in the beautiful vistas of the lake and to browse the artesanies of the locals. After a while of hanging around we realised our tour guide quel surprise had buggered off and left us high and dry. Luckily a local boy came to our rescue and took us over the island and down to the dock to re-embark our boat for the journey home.


The sail back took and age, and to distract Leo went to sit on the top of the boat for a while and got chatting to some Irish and Canadian travellers. The Irish began to regale us with stories of people they had known who'd been kidnapped, including recently an Irish couple in Bolivia (after a ransom were released safe and well) and a friend of theirs in London. I was very pleased we were avoiding Bolivia as there is significant political unrest there at the moment but really, who manages to get kidnapped in London?


Anyway, after (finally) arriving back in Puno we sauntered back to our hotel to pack up for our journey to Cuzco. I wish I could tell you that our Puno adventure ended there but unfortunately we were to encounter a stroke of bad luck (I suppose you could say, our first glitch). We'd heard stories of people travelling to Puno-Cuzco having trouble getting to and fro due to some local farmer strike action but we hoped that the problem would be resolved by the time we were to take our train through beautiful scenic country to Cuzco. We got our hotel to enquire and it turned out the train was not running but the buses were taking an alternate route and were getting through. After an early start to the bus station we arrived to the ticket desk to be told 'no hay servicio', which Ari mistook to mean there weren't any toilets on board ('no hay servicios'), optimistically replied 'Oh that's alright', and I had reluctantly had to disappoint him by telling him that it actually meant 'no bus service-at all'. And there was no news as to when there might be, perhaps tomorrow, after the weekend etc. Suddenly panic ensued that we would be stuck in Puno, we'd been there far too many days already and losing days in Cuzco and God forbid, Machu Picchu did not bear thinking about. We were desperate to find a way out, but once we realised there was no alternative route and it was not worth being stuck in a closer but worse place, we conceded defeat and returned to our hotel in the hope they could put us up while we regrouped and came up with a plan.
The one and only plan we had was this. A tad dull but so ridiculous it has to be said. 7 hour bus journey back to Arequipa, overnight stay. 6am flight to Lima, connecting flight to Cuzco, one day late and £500 poorer. It pains me to think about it, but it's the only thing we could do. So after 24 hours of arduous travel, a slightly larger carbon footprint but on track for the rest of the trip, we arrived in Cuzco. Incidentally at the time of writing (about a week later) the strike continues and the roads remain closed.

The Colca Canyon

We arose early to aboard the tour bus taking us on our overnight trip to the Colca Canyon. I was a bit surprised to see it was a 16 seater minibus and hoped that Leo would fare well for the journey.
The Colca Canyon is apparently twice as deep as the Grand Canyon in the US, and around the area you can visit typical Andean villages. And an early morning stop at the Cruz del Condor gives you a chance to view condors flying within the canyon as they awake for a morning of scavenging.
The journey to the Canyon involves quite a hike up in altitude, in Arequipa we were already at 2380m but the roads on either side of the canyon are at about 4000m and the highest viewing point is at 4900m! A journey with baby not to be taken lightly! For those of you that may be concerned with our gung ho attitude to dragging Leo around with us wherever, we did our research before embarking on this trip and it seems that babies adjust much more readily to changes in altitude and don't suffer the effects as we adults do. On that basis we made sure he was comfortable, slept lots and was always well hydrated. Right that's my justification over with..

A trick to combat altitude effects recommended to us by the ancient Incas is to drink copious amounts of coca leaf tea, perfectly legal here, and you can buy it every supermarket. We were thinking of bringing some home for pressies but we're not convinced it's legal back home.. any ideas? Anyway as this was freely available in our hotel Ari was especially keen to make sure there was no chance of him suffering any untoward effects. This included buying dried coca leaves, coca leaf sweets and a coca leaf fizzy drink for the journey just to make sure..

The journey itself was really lovely, passing through amazing scenery, pastures of vicuñas, alpacas and llamas and stopping at a few tourist directed markets to view the woolen goods on sale whilst taking a loo break in the meantime. Came back to find Ari being mobbed by a group of young girls, was somewhat intrigued until the reason turned out to be none other than Leonardo Andricopoulos causing a stir as usual! I fear he definitely has an eye for the ladies already.. Bought a Peruvian outfit for Leo as it was too cute not to once the saleslady had put the poncho over his head and refused to take it off, not that he needs more attention given the magnetic pull of his chubby cheeks and his red hair.





Unfortunately the highest viewpoint was shrouded in clouds so we had no view of the surrounding volcanic mountains, and to be honest I was feeling a little breathless so was quite happy to continue on back to lower pastures for lunch. Once we had our lunch in a local town it was on to the hotel for the evening which boasted a nice scenic location and its own thermal pools. When we rounded the bend to get my first glimspe of the spot I was quite taken aback, it was beautiful! Shame to be spending only 14 hours here. We did manage a dip in the baths, and after Ari and I discussed the wisdom of it, Leo came in for the ride, though in the cooler of the pools which felt just like a warm bath. And he had a fab time splashing about. He loves water now, and kicks about like mad as soon as he gets in. Call me somewhat optimistic but I think we may have a budding Michael Phelps in the family, better get him signed up fo some lessons when we get back (pushy mother alert).



We set off ridiculously early the next day to get to el Cruz del Condor, and the weather being fantastically clear and the time of year meaning we had a 70% chance of viewing, we were hopeful to get a glimpse of the majestic creature. At the spot many people were already milling around, buzzing with the anticipation of getting some condor action. There was little to do whilst the birds were deciding to emerge so people were wandering about, buying souvenirs etc. One American lady was sporting a typical Peruvian hat, asking everyone how it looked as she was considering buying it. When she asked Ari, he promptly responded 'it looks ok here but not sure how it would go down in- where abouts in the US are you from?' The meek and desolate reply 'oregon' came before she slumped off in a huff told us that maybe that wasn't the response she wanted to hear.
After a little waiting around we saw a distant condor in flight, and after a few slightly dodgy camera shots and some more of a little lizard on a nearby rock to pass the time, we managed to see one flighing really up close, and managed this fantastic shot.



Actually, I cannot lie to you dear readers, we could only have dreamt of getting such a shot. We were getting little condor action so Ari decided to take the camera off to take some pictures of the area, while I stayed at my great vista spot. There then appeared a fantastic condor, gliding on the rising heat thermals and all I kept thinking was, I hope Ari's getting this. Turns out he got stuck behind some heads somewhere else, got into conversation with some Greeks or something and well, he won't mind me saying, missed it all good and proper. So this is actually a photo of a photo, cheap I know but gives you an idea of what we would have liked to have captured. The best one we managed is here below.


The terrain here is beautiful and ancient, all the leveling of the land dates back to Inca days, and though a hard life it must be for the farmers working in the intense sun at such high altitude, living amongst such natural splendour must be some form of recompense.


We stopped at another typical Andean town to take some photos, buy some souvenirs from the locals waiting for us and then made our way back along the winding mountain roads back to Arequipa for our last night before an early morning flight to our next stop, Puno and lake Titicaca (great name).