Since my last post on Valparaiso wasn't given a very ornate title, I figured I'd give this one something with more sass than it is actually worth. This post will be reasonably brief, a sort of interlude if you will.
When I arrived at the Lima airport I was in the final leg of my tri-country trip. Thus far I had been to Argentina, Chile and now I was to commence with Peru. Because of the dead early time of my flight from Lima to Cusco I had initially thought to just spend the night in the airport, as I had done at the start of my journey. The Jorge Chavez International Airport in Lima is actually quite the airport for sleepovers, particularly in the Starbucks where wifi was available with purchase.
Ragged and reasonably exhausted I started letting the "it doesn't pay to be cheap" lesson take full effect and realized that I wanted a proper bed and, given my lack of showers due to the cold shower debacle in Santiago, a nice hot shower. Conveniently enough there was a hostel not 2 miles from the airport that offered such amenities plus cab service to and from the airport. I had to arrive to the airport at 4:00AM the next morning so I wouldn't mind a cab service. In the meantime I could walk to the hostel, find a market, eat some food, and sleep after taking a hot shower. Thirty five soles? Hell yes.
Now understand that the Lima Airport, like most international big ass airports, isn't located in the city proper. Just like the Atlanta airport is actually in Hapeville, the Lima airport is located in a port city called Callao. If you wikipedia Callao you'll find pictures of dizzying beauty, marvelous beach fronts, and warm glass and steel buildings. During the winter, however, Callao is an overcast mess of run down buildings that has unfortunately suffered through infrastructure deficiencies. Particularly around the airport Callao isn't kind to the tourist's eyes.
Google Maps, my faithful friend throughout my trip, guided me to walk some, walk some, take a right, walk some, and my hostel would be there waiting for me. Simple enough, no? In reality this was a dreary journey as the Lima area during winter is mercilessly overcast (something I'd find in full effect when I returned to Lima proper). The area around the airport was industrialized but not unsafe; many of the military were around to keep proper order. That didn't mean that my gringo-ness wasn't obvious.
In the United States, most airports forbid solicitation outside; in the airport in Atlanta only registered cabs are allowed to be around, but they don't solicit. You hook up with an agency or find a free cab and move on from there. That's not the case in Peru. In Peru no one gives two shits about solicitation regulation, so walking out of the airport means wading through the hungry masses of 50-75 drivers asking "where's your hotel?," "need a car?" and etc. Travel guides advise against taking a taxi like this because of stories of kidnapping. Also they're liable to rip you off though later I'd find out that the official taxi rips you off too. Walking out I was swarmed, swarmed, and swarmed. Fair enough. Even walking outside the airport, a taxi or two driving would honk their horn after seeing me to get me to come in their cab. Whatever.
As I was walking I noticed the sidewalks sorta vanished. They were no longer concrete. They had become dirt. I was clearly not doing what most was doing. No matter. I was too near the hostel to give up now. Once I got to the hostel my day was pretty much done except for getting some food at the supermarket down the street. As I walked down the street it wasn't uncommon for people to point at me and so forth. When I say this was super duper exciting...I was clearly kidding.
...
This wasn't a great start for Peru. Then I got to Cusco and discovered a completely different animal.
If Callao was dreary, overcast, and vapid in my initial day, Cusco was lively, vibrant, and exceptionally sunny.
Cusco has a Mendoza feel to it. Like Mendoza it is a touristy area. Many of the backpackers I met along the way had strong negative associations with Cusco's tourist nature but really this is everywhere. It wasn't as bad as Mendoza and it wasn't incredibly tacky. Sure, there was a McDonald's and Starbucks in the city square, and handicraft vendors gobbled up the place. Yet there remained a charm in spite of such tourist-oriented facilities. Cusco was the capital of the Incan Empire and it was settled by the Spanish soon after its discovery. Consequently it is a city rising in stone, with Incan walls around the city and marvelous Spanish red cathedrals in the midst of white buildings and red roofs nestled in the highlands of Peru. That may be a bit too much hyperbole. No less, I quickly felt the dreariness of Callao lift and I started to not just see and walk through Cusco but feel it--primarily slight altitude sickness.
Cusco is also similar to Mendoza in the respect that it's a bit of a gateway city. People go to Cusco on their way for trekking the mountains that surrounded the city, to raft the Urubamba River, to ski, to visit the Sacred Valley of the Incas and other archaeological sites. Mostly, however, the visitors were in my boat of preparing a trek into Machu Picchu. That was my reason for being in Cusco.
Cusco was equal parts turistas and travelers stepping alongside a largely mestizo and indigenous population in colorful handmade apparel and hats. Cusco wasn't even cold; the sun shone quite brightly as I walked around, feeling slightly woozy. The Loki Hostel, easily one of the best hostels in South America, was also located in not one of the best locations: up a hill. So to get around I had to walk down, walk up, walk down, walk up. I didn't get full on altitude sickness, but I could feel the nausea settling in.
I bore the nausea as I made my way to my favorite food market in my travels, Mercado San Pedro or the San Pedro Market. San Pedro wasn't everyone's cup of tea; many of the individuals I met were turned off by the smell of the meat they didn't trust as fresh or healthy. Fair enough, but San Pedro was something of a magical place for me. The first time I just walked around but then I started to buy food and more food and more food. I found fresh pistachios and cashews, I got some of the most delicious bread I ever had for 1 sole per bag of five pieces (two bags for me). I also found a restaurant stand and got myself the traditional Peruvian dish, cebiche or ceviche, which with rice, corn, and sweet potato costs 7 soles or roughly $3.50. Peru is well known for being the gastronomy capital of South America and I understood that quickly. The ceviche was divine (probably not so for anyone who isn't like me and a lover of water breathing organisms) and I was quite content with Cusco.
It was here I would book my trip to Machu Picchu. Before I came on this trip I had expected to take a bus and train to Machu Picchu--the conventional way. I had a hankering for trekking though, and deep trekking at that. Missing out on Atacama had done that to me. Another lesson that I think I did pretty well is to always keep an open itinerary when travelling extensively. The reason is that as I traveled, for instance, I would pick up on tips from other travelers. Talk with backpackers and learn from their experience. Many of the backpackers had talked with me about a trek called the "Inca Jungle Trek," which involved four days of hiking through the jungles of the Peruvian highlands, staying at locals' hostels and eating home cooked food among other activities such as rafting, hiking, etc. I took their advice and took on this trek.
But that's for another post... ;-)
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