It is Machu Picchu day. How does one get to Machu Picchu? It has certainly evolved since Hiram Bingham's day, thank god. In my case it involved a bus, a train, another bus, a hike, and another bus...and lots of rain. Or, as the guide chose to call it "holy water." I would end up in a plastic purple poncho (say that three times fast), feeling very blessed indeed.
The train from Ollantaytambo was quite elegant, with comfy seats and big windows everywhere. Coffee and tea are served, along with a snack. The views are lovely, with river and mountains racing by. Aguas Calientes or "Machu Picchu town" welcomes the train travelers with a light sprinkling "holy water." Bags are quickly dropped at the hotel, and then it is time to take the bus up the hill to the site itself. Half of the bus is pre-ponchoed, which makes for a slightly damp, hot house effect with a lot of plastic rustling. Others are winging it, hoping for the best in their fleece or jeans.
Our little bus winds up the switch backs, and the views just keep getting more and more spectacular. Finally, we pull up to the site, and our little greenhouse unloads. Then it is time to start the actual physical climb - but it is pouring rain. Time to poncho up for the hike up. Although Machu Picchu is lower than Cusco, and in theory, I should be fully acclimated to the altitude, I am still gasping as well as steaming up my poncho. The heat is trapped inside by the handy elastic around my wrists and head. I'm starting to feel my age, my shape, my knees and the altitude. The thought occurs to me that if someone had a medical emergency up here, you'd be pretty out of luck. I forge ahead anyway, I've come here for this and I will get there if I have to crawl up.
Just when I'm thinking it might come to that, I turn a corner and there it is - with a mystical cloud cover, but there it is, and it is spectacular. Lush green mountains provide a dramatic backdrop to the ruins, which tease us with a little view here, a little view there...the clouds move quickly, so if you manage to wait just a few minutes, the entire feel of the place can change. Miraculously, the rain stops at just the right moment, and I'm able to capture the exact picture I came here to get.
We wander through the site, our guide telling us tons of information that I'm not really absorbing. The rain came back, as did the plastic purple poncho. I didn't take many pictures until the very end, when the rain let up again.
Then it was time to get my passport stamped, yes, you get a special Machu Picchu stamp if you remember to get it before you leave (it is a do-it-yourself affair, which makes me question the sacredness of the passport stamp process), and hit the bus returning to town. We are a sweaty, damp mess of steaming humanity crammed into a mini bus. Every time our side of the bus is on the "edge" side, and we go around a curve, the lady behind me says, "Ohhhh, shit." So every other curve, there is a chorus of "Ohhhh, shit!"
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