For the six or seven people reading this blog, I’m sorry it’s been idle for so long. A combination of conditions have made it hard to keep up to date. I’ll be better from now on. I recently went to Machu Picchu and it was such an experience-for reasons other than you might think-I decided to break protocol and skip ahead.
I’ll be back in Russia soon.
Today we went to Machu Picchu, and it is a tale of more woe, that that of Hamlet, Brookside and Othello. What a trip it was. So much to say. So let’s be having it.
The day before we picked out our tour agency and got ourselves booked up. We were to get a bus from Cusco all the way to a town named Santa Maria and from there we would travel to an area in which a hydro electrical plant operates and get a train to the town of Aquas Calientes at the foot of Machu Picchu Mountain, stay in Aquas Calientes for the night and in the morning, after hot toast and tea, we would scramble up the mountain, see the place, take lots of pictures, scramble down and do the trip in reverse. Like ‘Memento’ but with nicer scenery and lots of Spanish.
We were told to be up and ready for 7:30 because the bus will arrive between 7:30-8:00am. Now I am not nor will I ever be anthropologically apt in the ways of Peruvians but since arriving I have been informed of, and observed a phenomena known as ‘Peru time’. Peru time is a simple way of saying the people are often late. If a Peruvian tells you they’ll be there for 7, expect them at 8. If dinner is planned for 9, it would be prudent to eat a chicken wing at around 7:30 to stave off the next few hours’ hunger. So it was with this in mind that I got myself ready at 7:20, picked up my bread roll from the breakfast counter and, I swear it, the moment my knife touched the bread to separate the bun:
What Peru time?
“Tomaaaaaaas! Rapido rapido!”