July 10: Sacred Valley
After hauling my gear from city to city for weeks, I had a strangely calm day of laundry and souvenir shopping in Cusco. 
This should be welcome respite to normal people who cherish things like relaxation and tranquility. I, however, was lonely and miserable. Helen had departed for Lima by bus in an attempt to make it through the ubiquitous blockades in time for her flight to Germany two days later. I wasn’t scheduled to meet up with Carolyn until the next evening. I spent the day browsing about a hundred look-alike souvenir stalls and losing badly at haggling with a ten year old girl for an “antique bronze” puma, which I eventually caved for at $8.
On the 10th I decided to attempt the trip to Pisac to see the ruins where I met, yet again, crushing defeat. The only other tourists on the bus were a pair of Frenchmen. On the ride out one of the passengers stood up shortly after departure and made his way to the middle of the bus carrying a very square brown suitcase. Sadly inured by the scare tactics of our country’s government, my first thought was “Bomb in suitcase. He’s a terrorist.” Instead, he puts down the suitcase, turns it on, and pulls out a microphone. There was a tiny portable sound system in there! Complete with crappy microphone! The first two hours of the ride were given over to this man’s spiel about magical healing jungle plants, their effectiveness as an anti-parasitical, and their fabulous digestive aiding qualities. All this could be yours for just $1 per packet of unidentified powdered substance! But wait! Because you are on this bus right now, I’ll give you a free one for every three packets you buy! His arguments were made all the more convincing by his associated booklet of pictures showing parasitic worms crawling out of just about every orifice of the human body. Yeesh.
About three hours into the trip we ran into the blockade. The union members were throwing rocks in the road and ripping up bushes and pushing them into the road as well.
The exasperated passengers urged the bus driver to go around the parked cars blocking the way, but the driver refused. Everyone got off the bus and stood around trying to figure out what to do. About ten minutes of dithering later, the Frenchmen decided to make a run for it. Water bottles in hand, they walked right through the line of angry Peruvians on their way to Pisac. I saw them start off and couldn’t get up the gumption to follow. I don’t know – following two strangers past an angry group of people throwing rocks just didn’t strike me as the safest thing to do.
Sadly disappointed, I reboarded the bus with the rest of the muttering Peruvians and started the return trip to town. But! A silver lining! The turn offs for the four closest Incan sites were along this road! I spoke to the bus driver and he promised to let me off at Tambomachay, a five mile walk from Cusco.
Tambomachay (also called El Baño de Inca) is a ceremonial fountain spilling crystalline spring water into a small channel.
Like the Nazca aqueducts, my guide Alex (who I picked up within five seconds of reaching the site – tour guides are like vultures in Peru) encouraged me to take a drink. Giardia be damned, it was some fine tasting water. Alex, like every other young tour guide I had, was a student studying English and tourism in Cusco. He asked me what have become the standard questions: “Where are you from? (The US) Why are you here alone? (My boyfriend hurt his knee) What do you do? (I’m an electrician) Why do you work like a man? (What is it with the machismo?)” I asked Alex about the Incan animals carved into every souvenir in Cusco – the puma, the snake, and the condor. He told me that the three animals represent the three levels of the earth: the snake for the underworld, the puma for the earth, and the condor for the heavens. Each animal is associated with a gender as well. The snake represents the female (for intelligence and mystery), the puma is man (for strength and aggression), and the condor is a conveyor to the spirit world. All right. I’ll buy that.
Alex walked me across the road to Pukapukara, the Red Fort, named for the pinkish colored rocks used in its construction. This was once a lookout post, storage silo, and a tax collection area for goods-laden Incas heading to Cusco. He also suggested that perhaps this was a school of architecture because one area had several different examples of wall building (ceremonial cut stone vs regular) and a large stone carved into the shape of Machu Picchu. That story seemed suspect, but here’s the picture anyway. You can see Wayna Picchu on the right and some rectangular shaped stuff in the middle representing the ruins.
I bid farewell to Alex and headed off down the road toward Q’enqo. A bunch of houses that I passed had little clay cows on the roof, 
which I think are supposed to be house spirits to keep thieves away. Back in Nazca, Jose was telling a story about how his sister’s house doesn’t have a cow and was robbed, while his house has a cow and neighbors think Jose is home even when he’s not. At the time, I thought he was referring to a real cow or maybe a cow skull, but I think he was talking about the little clay ones. Anyway, I found them charming.
Here is what Lonely Planet has to say about Q’enqo: “The name of this small but fascinating ruin means ‘Zigzag.’ It’s a large limestone rock riddled with niches, steps, and extraordinary symbolic carvings, including the zigzagging channels that probably gave the site its name.
These channels were likely used for the ritual sacrifice of chicha or, perhaps, blood. Scrambling up to the top, you’ll find a flat surface used for ceremonies and, if you look carefully, some laboriously etched representations of a puma, condor, and a llama. Back below you can explore a mysterious subterranean cave with altars hewn into the rock.” I surreptitiously followed two American girls and their tour guide, hearing stories about how the altars below were actually Incan surgical tables for trepanning (and supposedly they would fill the hole with gold, though none of the trepanned skulls in the museums had gold in them), and that a funny shaped rock on top casts the shadow of a giant puma on the equinox. I also paid a little kid a couple of soles to show me the “laboriously etched” animals. The llama definitely counts as etched. 
The condor and the puma seem like happy fortunes of rock erosion.
LP also mentioned a “Temple of the Moon” out in the fields, so I made my way back to the tourist road and asked the first person I saw how far away it was, and how dangerous it was to go there. Surprise, surprise, the person was a tour guide. Juan, yet ANOTHER student, was armed with his textbook and good local knowledge of the area (he grew up in Pisac). He took me far afield, braving one snarling dog (which frightened me so much, he laughed at me after throwing rocks at it to make it go away), to show me the Temple of the Moon, the Devil’s Tower, and the Temple of the Serpent. The Temple of the Moon gets one line in LP, the other two aren’t mentioned at all.
The Temple of the Moon is a cave for women only. After entering a doorway “carved” with a serpent and a condor (which still look more accidental than human-planned), there is a small chamber, and then a second doorway with a vagina carved into the ceiling. An altar lies at the back of the second chamber with a small opening in the roof to let in light. On a full moon, women (still today) lay down on the altar and moonlight shines directly onto their uterus, enhancing fertilization.
The Temple of the Serpent was quite cool. A large rock, snaked through with tunnels, and riddled with niches and altars, seemed like a playground more than a place of sacrifice or worship. Juan said that Incas used the area for learning about geology, testing the strength of different minerals and rocks for construction.
The Devil’s Tower is not much to look at anymore. Once a fortress standing on an impressively high bluff, nothing is left but the foundation. A small river runs underneath the bluff through a natural underground cavern, and Juan led me through it to the other side.
Through all of this, I had my most complicated Spanish discussion ever with Juan. He was so curious about everything. He asked if I believed in an afterlife, and told me that he thought the spirituality of the Incas was closer to the truth than the formalized Catholic religion of the country. He asked what I thought about the South America Free Trade Act, and what President Bush could do for Peru. (How on earth am I supposed to answer these questions when I can barely get a room for the night?!?) He told me that science and technology were the ways of the future, and that the presence of God could be detected in the intricacies of the mechanics of the world. It was one of the most enlightening moments I had on the trip. It also meant that by the time I got to Saqsaywamán, I was tired of deciphering Spanish.
Saqsaywamán was a huge fort with massive zigzagging walls. An Incan emperor made Cusco the shape of a puma, and the walls of its largest defensive structure were its teeth.
The rocks used in its construction are enormous – far larger than even the largest ones at Machu Picchu.
After a quick wander around the ruins, I was happy to head back to Cusco
for an alpaca burger meal at Sumaq Misky with Carolyn (home also to the most massive glass of jugo mixto I've ever seen.)
This should be welcome respite to normal people who cherish things like relaxation and tranquility. I, however, was lonely and miserable. Helen had departed for Lima by bus in an attempt to make it through the ubiquitous blockades in time for her flight to Germany two days later. I wasn’t scheduled to meet up with Carolyn until the next evening. I spent the day browsing about a hundred look-alike souvenir stalls and losing badly at haggling with a ten year old girl for an “antique bronze” puma, which I eventually caved for at $8.On the 10th I decided to attempt the trip to Pisac to see the ruins where I met, yet again, crushing defeat. The only other tourists on the bus were a pair of Frenchmen. On the ride out one of the passengers stood up shortly after departure and made his way to the middle of the bus carrying a very square brown suitcase. Sadly inured by the scare tactics of our country’s government, my first thought was “Bomb in suitcase. He’s a terrorist.” Instead, he puts down the suitcase, turns it on, and pulls out a microphone. There was a tiny portable sound system in there! Complete with crappy microphone! The first two hours of the ride were given over to this man’s spiel about magical healing jungle plants, their effectiveness as an anti-parasitical, and their fabulous digestive aiding qualities. All this could be yours for just $1 per packet of unidentified powdered substance! But wait! Because you are on this bus right now, I’ll give you a free one for every three packets you buy! His arguments were made all the more convincing by his associated booklet of pictures showing parasitic worms crawling out of just about every orifice of the human body. Yeesh.
About three hours into the trip we ran into the blockade. The union members were throwing rocks in the road and ripping up bushes and pushing them into the road as well.
The exasperated passengers urged the bus driver to go around the parked cars blocking the way, but the driver refused. Everyone got off the bus and stood around trying to figure out what to do. About ten minutes of dithering later, the Frenchmen decided to make a run for it. Water bottles in hand, they walked right through the line of angry Peruvians on their way to Pisac. I saw them start off and couldn’t get up the gumption to follow. I don’t know – following two strangers past an angry group of people throwing rocks just didn’t strike me as the safest thing to do.Sadly disappointed, I reboarded the bus with the rest of the muttering Peruvians and started the return trip to town. But! A silver lining! The turn offs for the four closest Incan sites were along this road! I spoke to the bus driver and he promised to let me off at Tambomachay, a five mile walk from Cusco.
Tambomachay (also called El Baño de Inca) is a ceremonial fountain spilling crystalline spring water into a small channel.
Like the Nazca aqueducts, my guide Alex (who I picked up within five seconds of reaching the site – tour guides are like vultures in Peru) encouraged me to take a drink. Giardia be damned, it was some fine tasting water. Alex, like every other young tour guide I had, was a student studying English and tourism in Cusco. He asked me what have become the standard questions: “Where are you from? (The US) Why are you here alone? (My boyfriend hurt his knee) What do you do? (I’m an electrician) Why do you work like a man? (What is it with the machismo?)” I asked Alex about the Incan animals carved into every souvenir in Cusco – the puma, the snake, and the condor. He told me that the three animals represent the three levels of the earth: the snake for the underworld, the puma for the earth, and the condor for the heavens. Each animal is associated with a gender as well. The snake represents the female (for intelligence and mystery), the puma is man (for strength and aggression), and the condor is a conveyor to the spirit world. All right. I’ll buy that.Alex walked me across the road to Pukapukara, the Red Fort, named for the pinkish colored rocks used in its construction. This was once a lookout post, storage silo, and a tax collection area for goods-laden Incas heading to Cusco. He also suggested that perhaps this was a school of architecture because one area had several different examples of wall building (ceremonial cut stone vs regular) and a large stone carved into the shape of Machu Picchu. That story seemed suspect, but here’s the picture anyway. You can see Wayna Picchu on the right and some rectangular shaped stuff in the middle representing the ruins.
I bid farewell to Alex and headed off down the road toward Q’enqo. A bunch of houses that I passed had little clay cows on the roof, 
which I think are supposed to be house spirits to keep thieves away. Back in Nazca, Jose was telling a story about how his sister’s house doesn’t have a cow and was robbed, while his house has a cow and neighbors think Jose is home even when he’s not. At the time, I thought he was referring to a real cow or maybe a cow skull, but I think he was talking about the little clay ones. Anyway, I found them charming.Here is what Lonely Planet has to say about Q’enqo: “The name of this small but fascinating ruin means ‘Zigzag.’ It’s a large limestone rock riddled with niches, steps, and extraordinary symbolic carvings, including the zigzagging channels that probably gave the site its name.
These channels were likely used for the ritual sacrifice of chicha or, perhaps, blood. Scrambling up to the top, you’ll find a flat surface used for ceremonies and, if you look carefully, some laboriously etched representations of a puma, condor, and a llama. Back below you can explore a mysterious subterranean cave with altars hewn into the rock.” I surreptitiously followed two American girls and their tour guide, hearing stories about how the altars below were actually Incan surgical tables for trepanning (and supposedly they would fill the hole with gold, though none of the trepanned skulls in the museums had gold in them), and that a funny shaped rock on top casts the shadow of a giant puma on the equinox. I also paid a little kid a couple of soles to show me the “laboriously etched” animals. The llama definitely counts as etched. 
The condor and the puma seem like happy fortunes of rock erosion.
LP also mentioned a “Temple of the Moon” out in the fields, so I made my way back to the tourist road and asked the first person I saw how far away it was, and how dangerous it was to go there. Surprise, surprise, the person was a tour guide. Juan, yet ANOTHER student, was armed with his textbook and good local knowledge of the area (he grew up in Pisac). He took me far afield, braving one snarling dog (which frightened me so much, he laughed at me after throwing rocks at it to make it go away), to show me the Temple of the Moon, the Devil’s Tower, and the Temple of the Serpent. The Temple of the Moon gets one line in LP, the other two aren’t mentioned at all.The Temple of the Moon is a cave for women only. After entering a doorway “carved” with a serpent and a condor (which still look more accidental than human-planned), there is a small chamber, and then a second doorway with a vagina carved into the ceiling. An altar lies at the back of the second chamber with a small opening in the roof to let in light. On a full moon, women (still today) lay down on the altar and moonlight shines directly onto their uterus, enhancing fertilization.
The Temple of the Serpent was quite cool. A large rock, snaked through with tunnels, and riddled with niches and altars, seemed like a playground more than a place of sacrifice or worship. Juan said that Incas used the area for learning about geology, testing the strength of different minerals and rocks for construction.The Devil’s Tower is not much to look at anymore. Once a fortress standing on an impressively high bluff, nothing is left but the foundation. A small river runs underneath the bluff through a natural underground cavern, and Juan led me through it to the other side.
Through all of this, I had my most complicated Spanish discussion ever with Juan. He was so curious about everything. He asked if I believed in an afterlife, and told me that he thought the spirituality of the Incas was closer to the truth than the formalized Catholic religion of the country. He asked what I thought about the South America Free Trade Act, and what President Bush could do for Peru. (How on earth am I supposed to answer these questions when I can barely get a room for the night?!?) He told me that science and technology were the ways of the future, and that the presence of God could be detected in the intricacies of the mechanics of the world. It was one of the most enlightening moments I had on the trip. It also meant that by the time I got to Saqsaywamán, I was tired of deciphering Spanish.
Saqsaywamán was a huge fort with massive zigzagging walls. An Incan emperor made Cusco the shape of a puma, and the walls of its largest defensive structure were its teeth.
The rocks used in its construction are enormous – far larger than even the largest ones at Machu Picchu.
After a quick wander around the ruins, I was happy to head back to Cusco
for an alpaca burger meal at Sumaq Misky with Carolyn (home also to the most massive glass of jugo mixto I've ever seen.)
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