The guy in our car could speak Spanish, so chatted with the driver and arranged for him to pick them up from the Poroy station the next evening. Oma and I had a morning train the next day that only got halfway back to Cusco - we were going to take a cab the remaining two hours from the stop in Ollantaytambo (in the middle of the Sacred Valley) back to Cusco. The cab driver took down our information as well and said he'd meet us there at 10am to drive us back to Cusco - handy having someone doing the translating, since he didn't have any English knowledge.
Oma and I sat on the benches in the decently nice lounge, then we loaded into the same train car. Our seats weren't next to each other (due to my passport numbers being wrong and needing to change), but we had a nice gentleman who was willing to switch, so we sat across from each other on the aisle side of a table.
The train to Aguas Calientes (also called Machu Picchu Village, where the bus heads up the mountain to the ruins) had three different types of trains: an extremely fancy one that we considered, but would have doubled our trip budget; then two reasonably priced ones, one slightly better than the other. On the way out, we got the slightly better one because it fit our schedule better. Tomorrow, for the way back, it was the lowest class of train.
The inside was modern, with sky windows that could be "turned off" (dimmed) with a switch. A soothing English and Spanish voice gave us information about the couple small towns we passed on the first half of the trip - mostly farming towns with a church from 400 years ago. We went downhill from high-altitude Cusco, eventually following a lush green canyon with a gurgling mountain stream and walls that made the skylights necessary.
The train actually had to use Z-shaped switchbacks, going forwards, switching tracks, going backwards, switching, then continuing forwards to make the steep descent work.
I got really excited when the voice said sun bears could be seen along the river, so I kept my eyes peeled, but we weren't quite that lucky.
The trip was thoroughly enjoyable. I had emailed to ask to have the hostel (another Mama Simona hostel) meet us at the train. I had a map, but this way we could have someone show up directly. It was starting to sprinkle, so, even though another group was also being met, we got our personal guide to show us the uphill walk along a market, then two blocks into the small town.
We got a very new room with an immaculate bathroom and only one set of bunkbeds (that were so new, the room almost smelled like wood). We had two hours until our afternoon tickets were valid up to Machu Picchu, so we relaxed and thought about if we wanted lunch. We had had sandwiches on the train (included, along with tea and a brownie that looked delicious but was missing sugar), and Machu Picchu had a lot of rules about not taking in water in disposable bottles or food, so we decided we'd eat at the cafe on top of the hill if we needed it.
It was time, and Oma and I headed off, with water in reusable bottles, to the bus stop. I had heard horror stories about the wait for bus tickets and the wait for the bus itself, but midday on the off-season, we had no issues with either. I was also happy because the fact that it was census day didn't seem like it made a difference in the town - there were still places to eat, though most of the shops in the market were closed.
The bus station was across an old rail bridge (still with its gaps too!) over another mountain stream. The rain had stopped, but it wasn't blazing down on us, so we hit the rare and lucky weather where we weren't going to get burnt or drenched. I was amused that they didn't take Visa, only Mastercard, and sent my coworkers (at the Mastercard subsidary that we work for) a picture.
The bus rumbled on at least six switchbacks on gravel roads up the side of a mountain. I got a wee bit carsick (in the back of the bus), but enjoyed the view the half of the time that we got to look over the valley at the taller, tree-capped mountains next to us.
We reached the top, and the final stressor of the journey was upon us. Would these tickets, that I had bought from a 3rd party reseller, work? Would they turn us away because we didn't have a guide?
The tickets (which I had had Colca Lodge print a few days ago) scanned fine, and we were in! I had thankfully taken a picture of a large signboard at the entrance with a map with a few paths around the site, and we started down the green path - it had no initial switchbacks, which I figured was a good thing.
Down the path, around the corner, and Machu Picchu revealed itself. A set of stone houses with reconstructed thatched roofs was at our right, with the site covering a few acres in front of us. What I especially loved is that it was surrounded by deep valleys and mountains - it was a stone outline of a city on the roof of the Andes.
The path I chose led us right into the heart of the residential (they guess) section of the city. Far above us to the left was the Inka Bridge - I knew we weren't going to get to that. However, a set of stairs led up to the upper section which included the Sun Temple and overlooks to the valley on the other side, and I figured we could get up those.
Oma is nothing if not a trooper! The stairs were maybe three feet wide, but made of rough-hewn stone that varied from 6-12 inches high, not flat, and not even necessarily a single stone. After she started up, then moved to all fours, then turned around a just hoisted herself up while seated, we fielded some stares and comments about why we were going up this staircase at all. Well, we had missed the (probably nicer in retrospect) switchbacks to get to the upper circuit, so it was improvisation time.
Oma was (understandably) out of breath when we reached the top, so we sat and admired the valleys, the stone buildings that were around us, and the view down the terraces to the other few sections of buildings at Machu Picchu. I read out some of the names, but it was caveated by the fact that scholars have very little proof for the things they are calling "temples", "palaces", "houses", and "industrial areas."
We found the spot for the quintessential picture over the valley, then sat on some rocks to plan our next moves. Up another set of uneven steps (which had handrails, thankfully), and we were at the Temple of the Three Windows with its large stone altar and set of three windows to help measure the sun, especially during solstices. What I loved about the village and the hillsides around were the terraces that lined them. Since Arequipa, we'd seen any incline that was steep but not impassable, layered into potential fields. Just the sheer number of those represented a society that had been around for a very long time.
About halfway across the ruined city, we started descending, and we started seeing more wildlife than the midges and mosquitoes that had been warning us not to remove our long sleeves. Firstly, a few llamas started popping up. The grass between the ruins was well-trimmed, and I wonder if it is that way solely because of those grazing creatures.
After stopping by the llama shelter (with another dozen llamas, including some crias - babies) and the Sacred Rock - which had no other explanation, just "Sacred Rock" - we took the lower path through a tangle of houses and walls. I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye, and we stumbled upon a squirrely-looking rabbit. Research after the fact revealed it was a viscacha (I had asked a Peruvian couple and did not understand they word they used). We came across a few more as we finished up peeking through the houses and doorways in the residential and industrial sections along the bottom of the city.
The Temple of the Condor had a grouping of people, each of which had their own interpretation of how the rocks and carving there were meant to represent the giant vulture we had seen a few days earlier. I decided the carving on the ground was the face, and the two ten-foot boulders on either side were the wings. Oma thought the wings were also along the ground with the carving. A teeny bit of water was along the next building, which the guidebook said was for a natural mirror as well as drinking, when it was flowing during the heyday.
It had been nearly three hours of poking around, walking, sitting and admiring the mountainsides and the craftsmanship of the city, and it was still a quarter mile back to the entrance along the same terraces we had walked in on. My stomach was ready for food, but we continued the slow pace that had served us well throughout the site and found a few more natural curiosities (a giant spider, a plant with red that we couldn't tell if it was leaves or flowers).
The walkway emerged to the last set up stairs up to the bus stop, and we got in the fairly short line, then were ushered onto a bus within minutes. The ride down, we saw a few hikers down the stairs straight down the hill, and we were glad we had bought the roundtrip tickets.
I put back on my layer I had taken off when we got back to Aguas Calientes twenty-five minutes later, and we climbed along the river and the market to the street with restaurants. At the single open stall at the market, we finally found the glasses case Oma had been looking for and bargained (badly) for it. Then it was a pair of soups and teas at the first restaurant, and then back to the hostel for some relaxing before dinner.
Dinner was at around 7:30pm, with darkness cloaking the few blocks of city that there was. We heard a few trains, and a lot of dogs patrolled the streets (most with collars or sweaters on, I will say), but will still found the first place that was open. Opening the menu, it was exactly the same as the restaurant we had been to after visiting the park - same typos and everything. Guess the street with five distinct restaurants weren't so distinct after all.
We both got warm but slightly mediocre food along with more tea. It was slow service, slow cooking (maybe because they had to run everything from a single kitchen who knows where), but we weren't in a rush. All that was waiting for us was more rest before the morning.
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