Gate 1 in Peru

We booked our Machu Picchu Express tour through Gate 1 because the price of the air alone would have been close to the price we paid for the entire package including hotels and tours with air.

Cuzco

Rationally, we understood this meant we would not have the best air itinerary, and that proved to be the case, with redeye flights in each direction broken up by four-hour layovers in Lima. The redeye flights meant we would have 4 days in the Sacred Valley using only 3 hotel nights, so it seems a logical approach to a short trip.

Our 1:05 AM flight on LAN left Miami a few minutes late, but we had a smooth flight. Worn out from a long day walking all over South Beach in the sun, we expected to be sleeping soon, but an improbable complimentary dinner service a few minutes after takeoff meant staying upright to avoid disrupting dining passengers behind us.

Village in Crevice of Andes

I started watching “We’re the Millers,” an odd comedy that failed on many levels but never managed to bore me to sleep. Then again, I seldom sleep well on planes. I did manage to nod off for an hour or so eventually, and I was suddenly awakened by the pilot announcing we would arrive in Lima in thirty minutes. I wish he would have waited another twenty minutes to tell us we would be landing soon.



Sacred Valley Farmland

Arriving in any foreign country to clear customs and change airplanes can be confusing, but Gate 1 had local representatives meet us to help us find our way. Yes, as with any group, it involved a bit of standing around and waiting for slow pokes, but this was definitely a positive first impression by Gate 1, which as a discount packager could be forgiven had they skipped this service.

Julie and I bought a cappuccino at McDonald’s, and not too much later it was time to board our flight to Cusco.

Because it was now morning, we enjoyed a scenic flight over the Andes, where little villages in steep valleys sit below jagged peaks which presumably include the fields on which villagers farm for subsistence.

Colorful Sacred Valley scrub brush and farmlands

Later during our tour, our guide Adriel told us he grew up on such a farm near Ollantaytambo, and he said he would walk for two or three hours up the mountain to begin his work day, and then after a long day of physical labor farming his family’s fields, he would walk two to three hours back down. That should put “grueling” commutes in air conditioned cars with stereos into perspective.

Incredibly blue skies at 2 miles high

The flight from Lima to Cusco didn't take long.

Soon we were entering the terminal, where we encountered a beverage cart offering free tea leaves, which Andeans chew in order to have energy in the high altitudes. I decided that when in Peru, I should do as the Andeans do, grabbing a few leaves and chewing them as I headed to baggage claim. As promised, I was soon alert.

Outskirts of Cuzco

After retrieving our luggage, we were herded outside and separated into groups by our guides.

Once on our correct bus, our guide Adriel counted the passengers and said there seemed to be a problem. The people count on the bus was wrong.

He called roll, with each of the passengers responding when his name was called. Everyone was present.

“Is there anyone here who’s name I did not call?” pleaded Adriel.

No response.

Almost surreal etherealness sometimes.

He counted again.

And then counted again.

He got off the bus to talk to another guide, and soon that other guide’s bus was driving off.

Adriel came back on the bus.

“Is there anyone on this bus who is not part of my group?”

No response.

Clouds come and go in the Sacred Valley

He patiently called the roll again, and again asked if there was anyone whose name had not been called.

No response.

Adriel re-counted his roster.

We had 25 passengers and only 24 names.

He got off the bus to make a phone call.

By this time, the passengers were getting restless, adding stress to poor Adriel’s face.

We would come to learn that Adriel treats his group like family, taking every situation seriously.

A couple of nights later at our hotel in Cuzco, for example, a 25 year-old girl in our group was deathly ill. Her boyfriend called Adriel at 5 AM, and Adriel said he’d be there in ten minutes.

He was there in five, immediately rushing around to pharmacies and getting a doctor, who eventually had her taken to a hospital.

It turned out that young lady had both a parasite and a form of food poisoning.



Peruvian and Llama at Sacsaywaman

She had violated a couple of Gate 1's rules during the tour.

 

She spent a lot of time petting llamas that wander around archaeological sites, which is where she probably got the parasite, and she had ordered an avocado stuffed with raw vegetables in Agua Calientes.

 

In Gate 1’s travel documents and also in a package printed for us by our guide Adriel, those activities were specifically warned against.

 

Common sense should tell you that snuggling with llamas and stray dogs is not advisable for a number of reasons.

 

Food poisoning seems more likely to be encountered by the average traveler, especially by vegans who think they are being healthier than everyone else by eating uncooked vegetables. 

If you can’t drink the water, what exactly do you think they use to wash the vegetables? Obviously, you need to eat cooked vegetables only. Fruit that has been peeled is safe, but we simply don’t have the same antibodies in our systems as locals do in other countries.

Traces of modern civilization in Sacred Valley

Keeping in mind that Adriel had warned against these activities and in fact tried to get the group to all stay together for lunch at his restaurant selection in Agua Calientes, he never went into “I told you so” mode. He just tried to resolve the problem like a loving parent.

Back to the bus count, Adriel finally walked around asking each person his or her name, soon coming to a guy in a yellow jacket who I think our guide had noticed didn’t answer the roll call. After some whispering, Adriel asked Yellow Jacket and the woman sitting next to him to step off the bus.

After another ten minutes of discussion, Adriel came back on board the bus with the woman, having found a taxi for the man who was trying to sneak onto our tour. Adriel went out of his way to not embarrass the woman who had been trying to smuggle her boyfriend into our group without paying. The woman, for her part, never made any effort to apologize throughout the trip, even when that same blockhead in the same yellow jacket kept turning up like a bad penny to delay us.

After an unnecessary thirty minute delay, we were finally on our way to our hotel, beginning with a scenic drive through the Sacred Valley.

Q'enqo

"In the rain forests of Peru, an ancient manuscript has been discovered.  Within its pages are 9 key insights into life itself - insights each human being is predicted to grasp sequentially, one insight after another, as we move toward a completely spiritual culture on Earth." 

 

A growing number of people believe a pre-Columbian paradise existed for indigenous people of the Americas.  They believe that before Europeans arrived, North and South America nurtured Gardens of Eden where hunter gatherers lived in harmony with nature and in peace with neighboring tribes.

Trail from Cuzco

In Peru, the Incas had reached the First Wave of civilization, the development of agriculture, so they were no longer a nomadic culture depending on migration to find food.  Among their advanced techniques were irrigation and the terracing of steep mountainsides into tillable tiers like we saw at Ollantaytambo and Machu Picchu.  With their system of roads that crisscrossed the empire, connecting mountains to jungles, they instigated trade routes which fostered a type of specialization of resources and labor that increased overall prosperity.

To bring about this trade network, however, the Incas had militarily conquered their neighbors with battles and threats of violence, and some consider their subjects working together in their local tribes to produce their crops or craftworks to have been little better off than slaves.  They had a somewhat utopian approach similar to the Marxist credo, "From each according to his ability, to each according to his need," within their own regions, but like the Russian Politboro under the communist system of the USSR developed centuries later, the Inca rulers definitely enjoyed a more privileged lifestyle than their subjects, who paid their rulers 10% of their total production.

I would surmise that the Incas probably earned their tax by increasing the overall economy through their trade network, and the attitude of the tribes may have been like Scottish clans, where the sharing may have been just as compulsory as for USSR satellite states but with at least a more pronounced illusion of freedom and tribal autonomy.

Even today, Peruvian farmers in the Andes like our guide Adriel's family, have a similar tribal commune system.  Adriel and his ten siblings all abandoned the farm to pursue the potential greater prosperity of the city, and the communal land they farmed is now worked by a different family.  Productively using the land essentially dictates ownership, and apparently these mountain farmers manage to work within that system.

The farming tools of the Incas were primitive, because that civilization had not reached an age of forging any metals into useful tools for any purpose.  They apparently even used harder rock hammers to smooth huge boulders that could be fit together perfectly without mortar in order to construct their massive rock temples and fortresses.  How impressive it is that these structures were built when they still literally lived in the Stone Age, as opposed to the Bronze or Iron Age?

And the sad truth is that native Americans frequently treated each other and the environment as brutally as their European conquerors, and possibly more so. 



Q'enqo

Before the birth of Christianity, the Bible speaks of blood sacrifices to appease God.  Jesus was the ultimate sacrifice, crucified for the "sins of the whole world," and thank God we Christians need not be involved in such blood thirsty rituals. 

Despite some obvious virtues, the Incas were not flower children living in the Garden of Eden.  They were primitive pagans who practiced blood sacrifice of llamas and other animals on a regular basis.  Human sacrifice was required to appease dozens of gods and to accompany to the afterlife Inca rulers when they died.  There were two major ceremonies requiring human sacrifice.

"Itu" was conducted at times of great joy, such as a royal marriage, or due to a disaster like an earthquake or epidemic, hoping to escape that doom with blood offerings. 

"Qhapaq Ucha" was to worship Inti, the sun god, and Wiraqocha, the creator, also reinforcing the belief in the lineage of Inca leaders to the gods from whom they received their right to rule.  These were drunken celebrations that continued for many days.

A boy and girl child were brought from cities throughout the kingdom to Huaycaypata, the central plaza in Cuzco that now bears the Spanish name Plaza de Armas, to participate.  The children would parade around in fine clothes of the colors associated with their home regions, as if they were married couples.  The Hunger Games comes to mind, although it seems these Inca children were only about ten years old and didn't have a chance to possibly win and move to Victors' Village.

Outdoor Altar at Q'enqo

In Quechuan, the native tongue of Peru, Q'osco (usually spelled Cusco or Cuzco) means "Navel of the World," a fitting title for the city from which the Inca Empire grew.  From this navel, the celebration spread to the four quarters of the kingdom as priests led processions in four directions, until they reached markers 500 leagues (about 1250 miles) away, which was considered the edge of civilization.  Because Cuzco is less than 300 miles from the Pacific Ocean to the west or south, these could not have been the four cardinal directions in which the parties departed, but they were direct routes straight over natural barriers like mountains and ravines which would pass holy places called "wak'as." 

As the parties continued through regions, local people would bring treasures like objects made of gold, silver and shells for the Inca rulers, who traveled on the royal road and would meet up with the devotees at shrines.  At the most "exalted" locations, children would be sacrificed. 

Q'enqo was the largest of the wak'as in the Cuzco region.  It is only about 4 miles from Cuzco (which undoubtedly seems a lot further when walking uphill over rocky terrain), so you can imagine how many stops must have been made to sacrifice children and collect donations. 

Sacrifice Altar is cold to the touch

Q'enqo means zigzag in Quechuan, and the site is a labyrinth of carved tunnels within natural rock formations.  There is a flat slab of stone where animals and humans were sacrificed.  The stone table in a dark cave is always ice cold, even when it is blazing hot outside.

Observing human sacrifice for these specific celebrations or to please random pagan gods on other occasions would certainly have been as appalling to the Spanish Catholics in the 1500s as to our civilized world 500 years later, and most of us would agree that nothing could justify such brutality.  For me, that puts Catholic saving of souls into a more practical and humane perspective.

A long time ago I read a James Michener novel in which he spoke of the Mesoamerican hero of a soccer-like game being sacrificed to the gods, so that the young man could go to paradise at the peak of his earthly life as a fit offering.  Similarly, the Incas sacrificed their most beautiful children believing they were being delivered to the gods to live in the afterlife.  It was considered an honor.

At Q'enqo, there's also another type of zigzag, carved crevices in a stone where oracles would pour a liquid (some say chicha or holy water, but I would guess most likely blood) and predict the future based on which path it took.  Possibly these oracles, in a manner similar to fortunetellers in other places and times, made vague predictions about a great emerging empire that the Inca assumed must portend their victory over the pitiful 168 Conquistadors rather than the imminent doom of the Inca Empire.

In the 21st Century, many would like to believe in a perfect world that existed before the arrival of the "white man," but the truth must be told.

The quote at the top of this page is from the cover of The Celestine Prophecy, a novel that I happened to find in the used book section of the library.  Having just returned from Peru, the quote piqued my curiosity, especially since an old friend had several times recommended the book to me.  To say the author, James Redfield, takes liberties with history is a considerable understatement, but he does make some interesting, thought-provoking conjectures.

In essence, he advances the idea that we each come into this world to a unique set of circumstances in order to learn what is necessary to advance the evolution of the world.  We select our parents before birth and grow essentially to be the average of our two parents in some ways and a counterbalancing force to them in others, and then we progressively follow seemingly coincidental introduction to people and circumstances to evolve into a higher state of consciousness that advances all of humanity.

It is potentially the never-ending improvement of humanity and civilization.  Rather than believing the best is behind us, we should appreciate how far we have come and optimistically move into the future.



Should I mention that Redfield makes a rather huge leap at one point in The Celestine Prophecy to say the Mayans (for some reason he has them in the jungles of Peru) had become so in tune with the cosmic vibrations that they had vanished into a higher consciousness, leaving places like Machu Picchu completely deserted?  Nah.

Cartagena Through A Disney Prism

"And that's the cursed Temple of the Forbidden Eye, where famed archaeologist Indiana Jones searches for the greatest treasure on earth," deadpanned Marlo, our Jungle Boat guide.  "Little does he know that I'm right here."



It's a Small World After All for Emma and Aunt Amy

For those of us raised in the shadow of Disneyland, this type of patter is familiar.  We enjoy floating through jungles where animatronic wildlife makes regularly scheduled appearances, but it is our guide's improv patter that makes the ride truly top notch. 

Despite knowing by heart where hippos and crocodiles would surface and that a headhunter would inevitably have a special sale, "Two of his for one of yours," Jay, Amy and I all laughed regularly on our Adventureland ride, thanks to our world-class entertainer who doubled as skipper for a miniscule fraction of what her CEO makes to flip coins deciding multi-million dollar deals.

A few weeks earlier, in Cartagena, Columbia, Julie and I had embarked on a real-life version of the same trip, the Canoe Tour Through Mangroves. The long bus ride through ugly urban streets in bumper-to-bumper traffic may have taken no longer than our snaking through the line for Disney's Jungle Boat, but I found chatting with my kids among fake Amazon artifacts much more pleasant. Strike one for Cartagena: heavy city traffic that, as our guide pointed out proudly, was symptomatic of a new problem of prosperity for a city that only a dozen years ago struggled to survive.




Minnie and Emma at Minnie's House

Our bus guide Ester actually did a great job with her own patter, albeit historic rather than comedic, touting the turnaround accomplishments of President Alvaro Uribe Velez, who earned unprecendented popularity through his crackdown on drug gangs and guerrillas, as well as his pro-active macroeconomic measures, including 30 year tax exemptions for certain new businesses including resort hotels and luring cruise ships to Cartagena. 

"Without peace, there is no investment. Without investment, there are no fiscal resources for the government to invest in the welfare of the people," President Uribe wisely proclaimed to the BBC.

With prosperity comes problems like the aforementioned traffic snarls and city pollution, but formerly impoverished victims of violence find these inconveniences far preferable to immediate dangers of deadly thugs and empty bellies.  To paraphrase Anthony Robbins, when you're richer, you still have problems, but you arrive at them in a nicer car. 

In Cartagena, entrepreneurs came up with an interesting way around traffic jams: a taxi service for individual fares on the back of motorcycles that cut between cars and buses along the dotted lines.  



This heron in flight was the best of the wildlife spotted

As we watched those bikers dash past our idling bus, it looked harrowing for the passengers with no control of the steering.  For a dollar to any destination in Cartagena, however, it saves lots of drive time and has become a growth industry for industrious Columbians looking to make a buck racing their Kawasakis around city streets.



When our bus finally meandered beyond the outskirts to the town of La Boquilla, we caught a glimpse of true poverty and deprivation.  La Boquilla's concrete block hovels may be a step up from grass huts or cardboard houses when storms rage, but this village makes Ensenada look like Monte Carlo.  We were definitely in the third world, and if I had to guess based on images alone, I would have thought we were in some dilapidated dream of a crooked despot in Central Africa. 

Disneyland crowds make you happy to have shoulders to sit on

This ship excursion undoubtedly feeds several families, and many locals seemed happy to see us arrive, but the undercurrent of resentment for those who could waste money so frivolously could not be missed. 

Without question the performance by dancers of African heritage, who like the rest of the residents are descendents of slaves, was the highlight.  Dressed in white and bright yellow Spanish-style costumes, they beamed smiles as they danced merrily.  They earned tips at that time and also during their show when we returned from our mangrove tour in hand-carved canoes.

Into the Mangroves

 Our gondolier, on the other hand, turned out to be literally no more than a stick in the mud, presumably because he spoke no English, which apparently was not required by the tour company.  He dutifully paddled through the muddy water, sometimes pushing off the river bottom with his oar, but beyond that he minimized efforts to embellish the experience.

Occasionally the other couple in the boat would ask a question in Spanish, eliciting a one or two word response, but mostly he just rowed.  By comparison to Disneyland's Jungle Boat, almost nothing happened, with the occasional bird wading or flying being both the wildlife spotting and the adventure.  The limited variety and quantity of fowl disappointed me as much the lackluster presentation.

Casting his net for fish

We finally reached a clearing where we joined up with other boats to watch a native fisherman practicing his craft of net fishing.  A short time later, the master guide for the tour arrived and began to finally add some commentary about the area, but a couple of gondoliers decided at that point to become talkative, carrying on a loud conversation between canoes in some variation of Spanish.  They seemed to be having a good time, but it essentially ruined the last chance for this mangrove boat ride to measure up to any minimum standard, much less Disney.  Strike two.



Beautiful Historic Cartagena.

We returned to the third world village for another dose of dancing.  We were offered coconuts with straws in them to refresh us.  Julie and I looked at what appeared to be a recycled straw and decided not to indulge, which proved to be a wise choice when a lady on our bus who had drank hers became so ill that she had to be taken directly back to the ship by special taxi.

The rest of us didn't get the opportunity to head back early.  We were shepherded to a seedy strip mall to use the flush toilet, which turned out to be broken, and found ourselves stuck in the heat and crowds of souvenir shops for twenty minutes before we could escape back to the traffic jams of Cartagena.  Strike three.

I was ready to be out of there, but we made a stop in the historic downtown area.  This undoubtedly could have been the highlight of the trip, which I suppose is why they saved it for last, but in my mind they could have improved the experience by going there first. By the time we made it there, Cartagena had lost me.  

I really only fully came to grips with the self-fulfilling prophecy of my mindset a few weeks later, when we took our granddaughter, Emma, to Disneyland for her first time ever. 

Aunt Amy, Grandpa, Uncle Jay and Emma

Emma didn't seem to find strolling down Disney's Main Street USA or visiting Sleeping Beauty's Castle all that different than walking in New York City where she lives.  Other than Minnie Mouse's House, with a particularly exciting moment when she actually met Minnie in person, Emma really wasn't quite up to the Disneyland adventure for most of the morning.  We couldn't convince her, for example, to go on the Jungle Boat ride with us, so she waited with her Nana for us to return.

 

Only when Uncle Jay bought hot beignets in Disney's New Orleans Square did Emma perk up.  She loved them, and when they were all gone (five us shared three beignets), Emma dunked her hand in the extra powdered sugar for a little more on her fingers.  We should have thought of a sugar buzz before arriving, because she suddenly was open to the idea of "It's A Small World," which she had rejected earlier in the day.  Unfortunately, another ride we knew she'd love,  the boat trip past miniature fiarybook houses in Storybook Land, had shut down to make way for the Disney Parade.  She enjoyed watching the parade for a few minutes from a perch on Uncle Jay's shoulders, but she had missed what I'm sure she would have found to be a highlight, even if we saw most of the same little houses from the Casey Jr. Railroad, which she also relished as a wild ride.



Beautiful Balconies of Cartagena

Emma missing part of her day in Disneyland was similar to me blowing part of my precious time in Cartagena because I had checked out mentally.  However, I don't have the excuse of being only three (almost four) years old.  I should have understood that we must make the most of every opportunity.

Our guide probably filled us in on a lot of great history in this city founded by grave robbers, enriched by a slave monopoly and plundered by pirates, but I couldn't hear most of it due to the size of our group and lack of microphone/earpiece combos.  For the most part, I had tuned her out anyway.  Then again, I guess I, like many others, have been spoiled by Disney's Pirates of the Caribbean as a full sensory overload retelling of history.

Simon Bolivar

Beautiful buildings of historic Cartegena showed plenty of Spanish charm, and spending our port day there may have been as nice as our time in Cusco, if we had simply found our way there instead of taking a tour.  Julie, our cruise director who shared the name of her counterpart on "The Love Boat" TV show, happened to be on the tour with us, and she said she had indeed spent a very pleasant day doing just that on her previous visit, pointing to an inviting restaurant where she spent a couple of hours. 

I wondered if Los Angeles might have housed a similar downtown area in an alternative twist of history.

Back on the bus and into the heavy traffic again, we ran out of time to walk back to the ship through a park with a tropical bird sanctuary, which reportedly features flamingos, parrots and toucans.  Toucans seem to be everywhere as logos for the Panama Canal but in the places we visited? Not so much. 

In fact, we didn't see any toucans anywhere on our cruise, which is as disappointing as not seeing a kangaroo in Australia.  Heavy Saturday afternoon traffic took the blame for missing time at the park, but that shopping trip before the old town could have easily been eliminated to make up time.

By the end of our Disneyland day a few weeks later, Emma wasn't ready to leave.  I guess you could say I felt that way after I woke up to the loveliness of the city and the promise of the lush park with wildlife that we had to forego.  The moral of the story is to appreciate every moment.

Machu Picchu

When Julie sent out some photos of Peru from her iPhone, her best friend since childhood replied, "You've seen one picture of Machu Picchu, you've seen them all."

While that may be true, I have to say that being in Machu Picchu on a picture perfect day is not the same as seeing photos snapped by someone else.

I think even the llamas who roam among tourists at the remarkable archaeological site there would agree.





Our second floor room in Urubamba

Our morning began with a 4:30 AM wakeup call.  We needed to have our bags packed and outside our door by 5 AM, which is also when we were due back in the buffet room for breakfast so that we could depart at 5:30 AM for Ollantaytambo to catch the first train of the day to Machu Picchu. 

As a result, our tour companions who took the optional trip to Pisac had zero daylight time to appreciate the beautiful gardens and views of our hotel.  I think it is good to remember that rather than trying to do everything, we should always factor in a certain amount of down time to savor the experiences, including lovely accommodations.

     

Entering Machu Picchu

Hiking the Inca Trail may well be amazing, but most travelers take the scenic train from Ollantaytambo to Agua Calientes.  The hike up to the fortress from the last train stop would still be challenging and take several hours if not all day, so our Machu Picchu Express tour included a bus to the entry.  Our guide Adriel suggested making an initial ascent to the highest point we would be visiting and then gradually working our way down, which as the day warmed up definitely proved to be a great plan.



Wes in Agua Calientes by statue of Pachacutec

Hiram Bingham's explorations of Machu Picchu in the early twentieth century as chronicled in National Geographic took that magazine from being an obscure journal of interest exclusively to academics and wealthy patrons to a widespread readership. 

It also sparked interest among the general populace in adventure travel and more general tourism. 

I dare say we never would have had the Indiana Jones movies without Bingham's Peru expeditions, but he didn't so much discover Machu Picchu as focus attention that led to capital being invested to dig the ruins out from under centuries of jungle.

After all, farmers were still cultivating the terraces there, and a farmer, who was busy working other fields, sent his son to lead Bingham to the ruins with no apparent concern of the child's ability to find the ruins or make his way home.  Nonetheless, Bingham did an outstanding job popularizing the romance of re-discovering artifacts and architecture of ancient civilizations.  And Machu Picchu's magnificent ruins improbably sitting among dramatic mountain peaks and steep valleys may have remained overgrown for centuries more had Bingham's natural curiosity not been fed.  As we stood looking down at the structures, Adriel directed us to imagine what this place was like when it was new, when golden straw roofs provided shelter to the wise men and priests who advised the Incas, when the now gray-with-age granite walls were gleaming white, some possibly gilded in real gold, when the finest sculptures and paintings from throughout South America were on exhibit, and when the well-dressed inhabitants wearing the bright colored fabrics of their home regions walked the streets contemplating the great issues of their day. 

While no one knows for certain, Adriel surmised that Machu Picchu was essentially the brain trust of the Inca empire.  It could have also been a vacation home for royals, but we know it must have been the dominion of a privileged few and their servants.  Who else could afford to live in such a remote and spectacular place?

The agricultural terraces, while impressive, could not have produced enough food for the population of Machu Picchu according to Adriel, who as someone who worked his family's farm in the region seems a trusted source on the subject, and Adriel thought perhaps scientists experimented with crops found in newly conquered regions and with alternative agricultural techniques.  Perhaps it was sort of an organic garden for the royal chefs to use in preparing the finest meals.  I thought back to the garden tour at Getty Villa near our home in California, where we learned that in their country estates, Roman senators cultivated species of plants and trees from places they visited, as sort of living souvenirs, just as we today might collect artwork or t-shirts or post photos on facebook or Instagram as proof of our travels. 

Roman Senators would try to influence guests to support their political schemes in Rome by bringing them to their palatial country homes, impressing them with gardens filled with growing proof of their world travels (and presumed broadened points of view) among other status symbols, along with unrivaled hospitality.  I see so many similarities between the Inca and Roman Empires, I have no trouble believing that a similar trophy garden may indeed be the purpose of these terraces at Machu Picchu as it was in Italy's rural estates.  Just like the Romans, Pacachutec expanded his empire by conquering new lands and then letting the new subjects keep their local languages and cultures.  The Incas weren't interested in micromanaging their empire but rather only wanted to collect taxes, although they did institute some laws, structure and improvements.  Just as the official language for government in the Roman Empire was Latin, so did the Incas conduct business in their official language, Quecha.  Many locals of the Sacred Valley, including our guide Adriel, still speak Quecha in addition to or sometimes instead of Spanish.

What is most phenomenal about the Incas is that they basically emerged prominently from regional players to conquerors around the thirteenth century, becoming a dominant military powerhouse and uniting lands from Central Chile to Columbia under Inca rule, only to be utterly destroyed by Spanish Conquistadors in 1572. 

By definition, Inca actually means the main leader of the empire, but historians have labeled the entire empire Incas for simplicity's sake.  To give you an idea of the brief, meteoric rise and fall of the Incas, Pachacutec, their greatest leader, was only the ninth Inca.  He expanded the empire through most of modern day Peru, and then turned over rule to his son Topa.  The empire expanded into Bolivia, Argentina and Ecuador, making it the largest native American empire at the time of the arrival of Columbus far to the north in 1492.

By that time, the Inca Empire was interlaced with a complex highway system through valleys, mountains and jungles, with extensive trade throughout.  We'll never know the exact history of the Incas, because their official records, which had been kept with a series of knots in colored strings called Quipu, were destroyed by the Spanish.  In 1493, Topa's son Huayna Capac, became the last indisputable Inca.  It should be noted that the tall mountain seen towering behind the famous ruins in most photos is Huayna Picchu.  The Incas considered mountains to also be apus, or spirits of ancestors, but I digress.  From the first landing of Columbus in the New World, Spanish military technology including fine swords of Toledo steel, primitive muskets, cannons and strategy soon overwhelmed native Americans everywhere they were encountered.

The primary objectives were to save the souls of "savages" with Catholiciscm and plunder gold and silver for the Spanish government and the Conquistadors themselves.  Francisco Pizarro tried twice unsuccessfully to bring men down from Panama along the West Coast to find treasures in South America.  On the second trip in 1527, Pizarro left two sailors ashore, presumably because one or both were stricken with smallpox or some other deadly Old World disease for which Incas had neither developed immunity nor knowledge for treating.

It seems an unlikely coincidence that Huayna  Capac died unexpectedly that same year.  The transition of Inca leaders had traditionally been quite systematic and smooth, with a council of royal advisors selecting the most competent of the Inca's legitimate sons to take his father's place.  The Inca emperor could have as many wives or concubines as he wanted, and he could have children with all of them, so at the time of Huayna's death, he had 500 sons.  Huayna's favorite son, Atahualpa, was a great general in Ecuador, commanding 40,000 troops, but his half-brother Huascar, who was better known personally in the capital of Cusco, parlayed better political connections into power.

   

According to some sources, Huascar was sort of a playboy in the city, but Adriel disputed this, saying the royal council would never have selected someone less than admirable.  Regardless of Huascar's virtues, Atahualpa decided to claim the title of Inca.  In a move not unlike Julius Caesar crossing the Rubicon with his army to claim to Rome in 49 BC, Atahualpa declared war on his brother's forces, and at the conclusion of bloody civil war, capturing and executing him before marching into Cusco to claim his throne.

The Incas picked a bad time to have a civil war, because Pizarro would soon return a third time with 177 Conquistadors destined to overturn their empire.  Fleet-footed Inca messengers brought word to Atahualpa of Pizarro's approach, but the spy reports underestimated the Spanish, claiming the swords were mostly decorative and the guns simply thunderbolts that worked only twice.  They thought the 67 cavalry troops and their horses were useless when the riders dismounted.  They would allow these fools to march to their doom rather than waste manpower bringing them back into as prisoners.   

When the Conquistadors would eventually arrive, Atahualpa planned to make them eunuchs to serve as slaves to their Inca masters, learning about their strange domesticated livestock (including those horses and chickens) just as they had captured that of native Americans.  When the Conquistadors finally settled into Tumbes, an Inca city surrounded by three walls, they requested a parley with the Inca leader, who arrived in the city unarmed as requested. 

Perhaps Atahualpa assumed his overwhelming advantage in sheer number of troops (40,000 to 177) would protect him against the armed Spaniards, but Pizarro, knowing of a similar gambit in 1519 by countryman Hernando Cortes against Montezuma in his conquest of the Mayans of Mexico, took advantage of the situation to kidnap Atahualpa, pulling him from his golden carriage and slaughtering would-be defenders.

The Incas considered their leader a demigod, so they were willing to pay any price to free him.  Eventually they promised Pizarro one room full of gold and two rooms full of silver in exchange for the freedom of Atahualpa, and they fanned out through the kingdom to gather the ransom.  Most likely, they came to Machu Picchu, which in its almost insurmountable mountain location surrounded by a river would have been a perfect place to hide treasures due to being both hidden and strategically defendable high ground. 

Nonetheless, there seemed no limit Pizarro's treachery.  After receiving the ransom, he still executed Atahualpa, garroting him for "crimes against the Spanish state."

To give some air of legitimacy, Pizarro installed Manco II as his puppet Inca leader.  You may recall Manco II, having escaped captivity under the auspices of retrieving more treasure for his masters, led his people to their only victory over the Spanish at Ollantaytambo, but the Spanish wave could not be turned back.

The Inca people retreated far from the Conquistadors into distant Amazon jungles where they survived another forty years as what came to be referred by historians as Neo-Incas.  Three sons of Manco II ruled in succession in exile.  The first son was poisoned by his own people, and the second died of a disease possibly brought by a missionary, who was subsequently killed.  After a brave stand against insurmountable odds, the third of his generation to rule, Tupac Amura, and his bravest generals were captured from their last stronghold in Vilcabamba and brought to Cuzco in chains.

The beheading of Tupac Amura in 1572 ended not only the Inca struggle against Spanish rule but the Inca Empire itself.  To this day, however, there are descendants of native tribes in the Sacred Valley.  Our guide Adriel, for example, proclaims his family roots in the area extend far before the Incas, and as such philosophically accepts that the Incas were a blip in history, a conqueror supplanted by a stronger military power.  Whether we like it or not, that is the nature of history and evolution: survival of the fittest, or perhaps we should say militarily and technologically superior.

We can and should honor the past, appreciating the accomplishments of humanity that played their parts well in their time upon the stage.  Thanks, Mr. Bingham, for bringing us here.

Someone said that you cannot see Machu Picchu on your own in two days, but with a good guide, you can do it justice in two hours.  Because we hadn't seen any mention of a guide in our Gate 1 tour description, we assumed we might need to hire one as we entered, but we were pleasantly surprised to learn that Adriel and his assistant John Claude would lead us on our tour, and they did an excellent job. 

By lunch time, we were ready to go back down the mountain to Agua Calientes.  Still full from our breakfast at the hotel in conjunction with reduced appetite caused by the elevation, we broke off from the group, which proceeded to an optional lunch with our guides, and bought a Diet Coke to have with some snack food Julie had stashed in her purse.  We ate on a bench next to the statue of Pachacutec, while nearby Andean minstrels played traditional music.

After lunch, we took the train back to Ollantaytambo, where we walked around the town a bit before boarding the bus for Cusco. 

We took a couple of breaks en route. 

We had a scheduled stop at a chicha factory, where we learned how the low alcohol "beer" is made from purple corn and then sampled this favorite brew of local farmers.  Chicha has the texture of an unrefrigerated pina collada with none of the sweetness.  I wouldn't recommend it as an alternative Pisco Sours or Inka Colas.

As those who wished to participate drank our shot glass sized portions, Adriel took a pint in both hands, and following tradition of spilling a bit on the floor for the Pachimama (earth god) while reciting the proper Quecha phrase, proceeded to down the entire glass.  He encouraged John Claude to do the same.

Behind the tasting room was a barn of sorts, where guinea pigs were kept.  Grilled guinea pig, or cuy as they call it, is a delicacy in Peru.  Having owned them as pets as a child, I know guinea pigs multiply very quickly, so raising them for food certainly makes sense economically.  We didn't try any cuy on our trip, but it supposedly tastes like rabbit (not that I've ever eaten a bunny either).

Adriel said local farmers drink chicha after a long day in the field and then play the toad game, which is similar to darts but with disks thrown at a table with the "bullseye" of a metal frog in the middle surrounded by trap doors of different scoring values, with the loser buying the next round.  Adriel said the bar owner would often give the first round for free, and that, as an skilled toad game player, he (Adriel) often drank the entire evening without paying. 

Many of us gave the game a try.  John Claude did a good job with the game, but after a short ride on the bus, he had to get off to purge the chicha from his system, so I'd guess his system isn't as accustomed to it as Adriel's.

At an unscheduled stop, Adriel jumped off the bus and returned with a white beetle in his hand.  He asked if anyone knew what it was before crushing the bug, producing a bright red beetle juice.  Not that it made much of a difference to the beetle at that point, but it is not beetle blood, which would be clear.  Beetle juice has been used as the basis for red lipstick for 3,000 years, and it continues to be used in cosmetics today.
 

By the time we reached Cusco, it was dark.  The hotel again turned out to be a modern 4 star property.  Adriel recommended Valentina, the restaurant immediately across the street, for dinner, and now being hungry after having a light lunch, Julie and I followed his advice.  The waiter brought us small Pisco Sours, which are similar to Margaritas, as complimentary welcome drinks.  My Trout Pisco from the Urubamba River was excellent, as was the Cusquena Negra cerveza.  A band dressed in traditional clothing played local music for us while we dined, and it proved to be a lovely way to cap off a very full day in Peru.