Land of the Inca
IV.II.I
LAND OF THE INCA
Coming back from somewhere I thought I could never leave is always impossibly difficult for me – doing my best to come to terms with the fact that that routine is now over and things will never, ever feel that way again.
The same had happened when I came back from Colombia, Nepal and Hungary. This time round, despite how much I adored my time in Cambridge, I kinda didn’t feel that way. Only cause I had something else waiting for me. Something more… grandiose, shall we say? Well, it certainly felt that way for me anyway. In a few weeks I’d be off to South America again. The place that had stolen my heart two years back. And this time round, I was going to Peru.
Peru, to me, was not simply about getting to experience all kinds of adventures once again. I mean, don’t get me wrong, that was a big part – but what I was really looking forward to was the fact that I’d be on my own. Completely, one hundred percent alone. My very first solo trip. And man, did I need that. For months on end I had no space and no time to be on my own. It felt as if I had been suffocating. Being constantly surrounded by people and not being able to find some time for myself had really gotten to me. Eye-twitching, bug-eyed crazy level gotten to me. Literally.
On many occasions I caught myself daydreaming about owning one of those sensory-deprivation chambers. For a few moments I wanted to just be – that’s it. To not have to think or talk or decide or plan or learn or complain or yell or laugh or whatever. To just be.
And there was also another thing. You know, you spend your whole life making compromises to be able to live harmoniously with others – it’s part of the social contract after all. And these compromises? Some are small, some are big, and once you start giving in to them, you slowly realise you’ve given away so many little pieces of yourself you can barely recognise who you are. Or at least that’s how I felt.
But this trip would be my trip. I’d get to do whatever the hell I wanted to do. If I wanted to cram my day with all sorts of activities, without a moment’s rest, leaving me so exhausted by the end of the day that I’d just wanna curl up in bed and die, then that’s what I’d do. There’d be no one complaining and telling me they needed a break or that I had to slow down. If I wanted to take it easy and stroll about and get lost in the streets without one care in the world, then that’s what I’d do. There’d be no one to tell me I was wasting their time or that I should get a move on. If I wanted to go to a steakhouse, I wouldn’t have to give it up because my friend’s vegan. If I wanted to choose the cheap, dirty hostel so I wouldn’t have to splurge on a five-star hotel room because my friend’s used to comfort and luxury, I could.
And most of all, I wouldn’t go back home feeling like I’d missed out on something simply because any of these things would’ve gotten in my way. The only limits I’d have would be my own. I know I may sound like a selfish, egomaniacal ass, and maybe I am, but for once I wanted to do what I wanted without any compromises or feeling like I’d let somebody down. That’s not so unfair, right?
And so, with a devil-may-care, come-what-may, que sera sera attitude and my trusted human-sized trekking bag, I embarked on yet another adventure of a lifetime.
My first stop would be Cusco, former capital of the Incan Empire, situated way up in the Peruvian Andes at a breathtaking altitude of around 3.5 kilometres. Breathtaking for its beauty and lack of oxygen alike, in case you were wondering. With its cobblestone streets, colonial architecture and colourfully clad people and textiles, the only way to take it all in is by going there yourself and roaming the streets aimlessly for hours on end.
And that’s exactly what I did. The minute I landed, I got a ride to the guesthouse I’d be staying in, left everything there and went on my way to explore the city without wasting a second. As I roamed the cobbled streets and stood in awe of everything around me, I could feel freer than ever. I was on my own – completely and utterly alone. I knew I needed this right from the start, and boy was I right. The world was my oyster and I could do whatever the hell I wanted.
In fact, I chose to get hopelessly lost. I took the streets and wandered around to my heart’s content. I ended up climbing all the way to Cristo Blanco – an eight-metre statue of Jesus Christ located at a viewpoint standing atop of the city. While the hike up there was short, I can say it definitely did a number on me. Take it from me – altitude sickness is not a conspiracy theory. I repeat – not a conspiracy theory. The coca leaves tea I was coerced into buying to soothe my woes did nothing to help my headache and nausea – not to mention the breathless I’d feel after every couple of steps! The views though… Those were certainly a worthwhile distraction – especially with everyone flying kites over the hill!
Being a historical haven, Cusco harbours architectural marvels from both the pre-Columbian and the colonial era. Over the two weeks I’d be spending in the city, I got to see and do as much as it was humanly possible.
From ruins of the once great Incan Empire to the more modern colonial buildings, the rich history of the city still remains vividly entrenched in the present. Amongst these my favourite was Sacsayhuamán – the historical centrepiece of the Incan Empire that is basically a fortressed citadel with a great plaza in the centre. A close second was Coricancha – the most important temple in the Incan Empire which used to be covered in gold until the Spanish arrived, demolished it and used its foundations to build the Convent of Santo Domingo.
The heart of the city is arguably the Plaza de Armas – the central square of the city, which appears to be devoid of anything Incan. Be that as it may, the Cusco Cathedral, a UNESCO World Heritage Site, makes for an impressive backdrop, as do the Church de la Compañia de Jesus and the hundreds of baroque balconies surrounding the entire plaza.
Add to the list of what makes Cusco heaven on earth the fact that the food there is simply divine and you’ve got yourself the best combo for the perfect trip. I mean really, you haven’t lived until you’ve had alpaca meat. I know, they’re adorable, but hey, so are cows, and nothing beats pepper steak. Then there’s cuy. Cuy is an old Quechua word, an onomatopoeia coined by the native Peruvian people for… well… no use beating around the bush, cuy is guinea pig. Maybe it’s not that weird for you, especially if you come from a country where rabbit is eaten. But even if it is, add some black Peruvian mint sauce and you won’t have any more reservations. Trust me, it tastes like heaven and a half.
Oh and – excuse me as I wipe the drool off my face – there’s also the traditional Peruvian dish ceviche, chopped up raw fish marinated in lime juice and god knows which spices and herbs that make it taste so damn good. And if by some chance you’re one of those people to whom good food does not appeal, go ahead and try boiled bull testicles and breaded cow udders. Those dishes reassured me that my gag reflex is still intact.
I talk way too much about food, don’t I? Well, as fate would have it, my host Yuri happened to be a chef – and a pretty damn good one at that.
Under his roof, a bunch of other travellers and I were always kept full and happy, with three-course meals that left nothing to be desired, both in taste and portion size. But it’s not just for that I’ll forever cherish the memories I made there. I got to hang out with some awesome people – like Meena, an Indian chick living in the UK, and Ivy, Jordan and Clarissa, three girls from the US. From downing pisco sours to playing card games, we spent a couple of weeks together at Yuri’s.
My favourite companions, however, were none other than Yuro’s two dogs – Singito and Osito. Even though all dogs were created equal, some dogs were created more equal than others – which is the case for Osito, who suffers from a limp after he was run over by a car, but still proceeds to walk by your side all over the city. Kinda like having an extra, lame, canine-shaped shadow.
During my time in Cusco I’d be ceremoniously awakened every single day at five in the morning by the over-eager bus attendants yelling “Chinchero! Chinchero!” over and over again. It has a sort of cadence you begin to appreciate only after you get over your sleep deprivation and get used to a routine of exhaustion.
I’d say the bus stop’s location was inconvenient only I had to go to Chinchero every day. The charming village sits right in the centre of the Sacred Valley, is also known as the centre of weaving in Peru and the birthplace of the rainbow. Though not very touristic, the main attractions in the village include a colonial church in the middle of the village square, the Center for Traditional Textiles of Cusco, where the beautiful, colourful Peruvian textiles come to life, and the Inca Tupac Yupanqui ruins where both the Inca stonework and the Peruvian agricultural skills can be appreciated.
It wasn’t for sightseeing alone that I’d visit Chinchero though. The one landmark I was particularly interested in was the local clinic. Having already had some experience with voluntary work in Nepal, I figured I’d spend some time doing the same in Peru.
It would only be for a few days but at least I’d get to experience medicine in a new country. I was pleasantly surprised, as the facility itself seemed to be quite modern. From performing physical examinations to assisting with certain procedures – which I had luckily practised a few weeks before in Cambridge – I actually felt quite useful for once in my life, and this with a level of Spanish that was limited at best. This, to me, only helped reinforce the idea that medical students are not just a nuisance and a waste of space, rather assets that can actually help out and share the workload.
And so, it’s no wonder that my memories of Cusco are some I look back on the most. I did anything and everything that makes me feel alive and happy. And the best part of Cusco was still yet to come…