My stomach had been feeling pretty bad since I arrived at Quito, Ecuador, and it hasn’t felt much better since. I think I was starting to get over it when I went on the plane ride in Nazca. I think I was getting over it again when my car slammed down hard around the ditch. But I think another couple days here in Cuzco, not doing much but just relaxing, will really help me out. I just wish it was a bit warmer, but hey, I’m really glad it’s not any colder.
I didn’t really get to finish what I was typing yesterday because I ended up talking to one Norwegian lady for a couple hours.
Anyway, I get to Macchu Pichu just fine. They didn’t check the train tickets to see if I was really Rafael or not. But the ride sucked. It lasted a lot longer than I thought it would, or should for that matter.
The guide, I felt, was essential to my experience at Macchu Pichu. He was obviously knowledgeable and pointed out several things that I would have simply passed right by. I don’t know what to write about it in the journal other than the fact that I thought it was clearly better than Tikal. Tikal was amazing because it was tall. But all in all, it was a fairly simple thing, a bunch of pyramids. But Macchu Pichu’s level of craftsmanship really amazed me, especially at this altitude.
There was this boy who was wearing some sort of indigenous overall who started waving at us as the bus left Macchu Pichu down to the train station. I thought I was hallucinating when I could have sworn I saw the same boy a couple minutes later near the windy roads that the bus was going down on. But no I wasn’t! He was running down the steps of the mountain while the bus was winding around it, and I kept seeing this boy over and over again, waiting for us and waving as we passed by. He would do this the entire 20 minute bus ride down, at 8000 feet altitude! Afterwards, he would get on the bus and ask for money, and I happily obliged.
The guy I was sitting next to used to work for McDonnell Douglas plant and retired in Toronto but travelled extensively to Long Beach, CA before it was bought off by Boeing. This was his second day going up and down Machu Picchu and was a little disappointed by this boy’s performance. He said that the boy from yesterday was always waiting by the steps before the bus passed by, while this one could sometimes be seen running down the steps as we passed him by.
I missed my train coming back. The train that was supposed to leave at 3:55PM didn’t leave until 4:20. And by the time I got up to board my train, they had just left, too. The signs quickly changed from 3:55PM to 4:20 PM to 5PM in a matter of 5 minutes. Turns out my train was waiting behind the 3:55PM train all along, I had to go all the way around to get to it…
So I go to the train station clerk, who says give me your old ticket and I’ll get you a new one. Which is tough thing to do for me because see, I am clearly not Rafael. So I bought another $46 ticket to get back to Cuzco, and got off the station before that and paid 5 soles for a bus ride that lasted 15 minutes into the historical center. Otherwise, the train ride would have taken another hour.
So I was pretty upset about the whol $46 thing. I mean, they must be making bank on these train tickets as well as the tickets to Macchu Picchu. But the train ride is horrible and doens’t go very fast at all. Makes me wonder where all the money is going to, because it doesn’t cost hundreds of thousands of dollars a day to maintain the center and the railroads, at least not in the condition they’re in.
But I start overhearing the conversation (that I started, by the way, but they soon left me out of me) with the British guy sitting next to me and an Australian couple sitting across from me. The British guy had just gotten hospitalized because of altitude sickness while attempting to conquer the Inca trail. He spent a couple days in the hospital, wondering he’ll survive or not. The Australian couple had flown into Lima, got their baggage lost in the airport. When they finally found it and loaded it into the bus, the bus and their entire baggage got robbed. And when they got a ticket from Arequipa to Cuzco during the strike and everyone else was trying to do the same thing, they were told that they can’t board the plane because it was overbooked, and they weren’t handing out refunds. So that puts things in perspective. So all in all, I spent about $200 for Macchu Pichu. Was it worth it? Yes. Would I go again anytime soon? No.
So apparently, the strike was different in every city. One was for the teachers, who didn’t want to have to requalify every year. But mostly it was against the president, who was coming up for re-election and people didn’t like him for making the rich even richer.
Anyway, I got back around 9PM, having taken the 5PM train back and taking 4 full hours to get back to Cuzco. I go to check my tires to make sure it’s not leaking air and I’m glad to see it’s not. Then I use the internet for a bit, and while there I meet a guy from Chile who apparently got accepted into one of the 3 UCs to study abroad for a semester. He tells me that there are lots of farmers with old Mercedes I can probably sell my car to illegally for whatever I’m asking for. He also says that the road to Ushuaia from the Chilean side has been newly paved about 2 years ago, and that it shouldn’t get snowed out by the time I get there. So some optimistic words from a local really made my day.
I get back to my hostal at about 10PM, clearly 2 hours later than when I said I would be back in. There are a couple of backpackers waiting outside, trying to see if there are rooms for the night. I find out that they just came back from Macchu Pichu after having done the Inca trail and this is the first hostal they’ve been to. I tell them that it took me about 6 or 7 different hostals the night before at 5PM to find one that had an open room. Turns out that they have some dormitory rooms open upstairs, but they don’t want to take it. The lady, Sarah, is feeling sick, and Courtney doesn’t know what to do.
Well, I hadn’t checked into my room yet and messed things up, so I gladly switched rooms with them. I just make sure that they’re happy about the size of the bed and Courtney, Sarah’s husband, thanks me and says he owes me one. I just tell him to get me some water tomorrow.
I am typing away at my laptop when the two older ladies who had checked into the dormitories earlier walk in. One of them is clearly upset. They had reserved and paid for a double room beforehand, and now they were stuck in a dormitory with this
‘chinese’ dude! They’re Norwegian, and the one that’s upset doesn’t speak much English and asks me if I speak English. And I say yes, I do, I’m from California. Then, she starts enunciating and says again, “Do You Understand English?” I said, again, yes I said I do, I’m from California. And then she gets all pissed off and says, “Don’t you get mad at me, telling me you’re from California. I’m from Norway so maybe I no speak very good English but I understand you.” I don’t understand this irrational attitude, and tell her that I had to make sacrifices, too, so don’t be giving me this nasty attitude. She starts mumbling something I can’t understand. Her sister walks in between us, saying that they’ve just had a rough day and tells me their situation about the reservation and all. (By the way, why do I tell people I’m from California? Because everyone knows California and I’m clearly not white, so it helps them understand that I speak English and I’m not some random foreign exchange student)
Then I later tell her to tell her sister to let’s start over and that I’m sorry that I got upset at her. She shakes me off and is still clearly upset. I tell her if she’s mad she’s paying so much for a dormitory, I’ll gladly pay for hers, and if she wants her own room, I’ll sleep outside on the sofa. I start talking to the one that speaks better English. She works at Oakland (yes, California) School District and we start talking about everything, from politics to philanthropy, to where she’s been, about our families and such. Her upset sister is no longer visibily upset, and has this sly smile while walking to the restroom. It was quite a conversation, and I went to sleep at about midnight, thoroughly tired.
This morning I woke up to the hostal attendants. Apparently, a group of tourists had reserved the dormitory room for 4 and had come in early. So I grab all my belongings together and head downstairs to an open room, vacated just hours before by another tourist. Meanwhile, I supppose Courtney heard the ruckus and is sort of hanging around the courtyard. He offers me breakfast and I gladly oblige.
He and his wife are both 30, and grew up in Boston, where they got married right after graduating with a degree in Chemical Engineering at University of Massachusettes Amhurst. They lived another 2 years, and saved enough money to live out in Hawaii for 6 months. They then moved to San Diego at the age of 25, because they were really sick of the cold winters of Boston. She continued her practice and he pursued Software Engineering. They’ve been traveling a bit, going to New Zealand and Australia, surfing along the way, and also a couple days in Singapore with a few more days in Indonesia and Thaliand and a couple months in Europe. They recharged in New York, and arrived at Peru about a week ago and acclimated for a couple days to the altitude before heading out. Next, they’re going on some Amazon trail and will finish their 6 month vacation along the beaches of Costa Rica.