Pisac en Español

(From yesterday...)

I have had a wonderful Spanish-speaking day. Bjorn left to do the Inca Trail yesterday morning, so I have been flying solo the past two days. I have nothing but nice things to say about my traveling companion, but...my opportunities for Spanish speaking are significantly limited when traveling with him (or really anyone, for that matter). When you are alone, you´re much more likely to get into random conversations with locals than when you´re busy talking to your traveling companion. Twosomes are notoriously evil, you know - who wants to bother trying to butt in?

Anyway, around 9 AM this morning, I boarded a collectivo (really cheap mini-bus, basically) for Pisac, a town about 40 kilometers outside of Cusco. A lovely lady who appeared to be about 65 sat down in the seat next to me, whipped out her knitting, and started chatting with me, en Español.

Turns out she is a retired - but still working - teacher of Quechua, which is the language of the indigenous people here in Peru, as best I can explain it. We discussed various places in the United States, as she has visited several times (though she told me about how COLD Dallas was, which makes me think she was confused about something); we discussed my interest in getting a job down this-a-ways; she asked me if I thought she could get a job as a nanny and cook in the States somewhere. (I kept trying to figure out how I could justify getting her to be MY nanny and cook, but I guess I can´t really afford that. She would be the BEST grandmother-nanny AND she could help me with my knitting. Que bueno.)

Anyway, I got off at Pisac, we wished each other "suerte" and that was that.

Pisac is a town famous for its market (Tuesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, 8-3) and for its incredible ruins. I wandered through the market for about 15 minutes before being overwhelmed, as usual, by the mass amounts of stuff for sale and the relentless salespeople. Buy this, señorita. NO, por favor!

The ruins begin after about an hour´s climb up, up, up into the mountains. The mountains are astonishingly beautiful, which is good, because the climb is serious. Stone step after stone step. After about 45 minutes, I heard a flute playing behind me and turned to find a local, climbing up the stairs behind me. How on earth this man could use his lungs for any purpose other than heave-hoing up the mountain, I could not fathom. As soon as he caught up with me, I stopped and said "Adelante" - go ahead. Then, assuming I could speak Spanish, he launched into a conversation with me. Turns out he is a guide around Pisac and climbs the freaking mountain every day. I guess THAT´S why his lungs are in good enough shape to allow him to play the flute while climbing.

As we progressed up the mountain at about the same pace, he started telling me about various points of interest along the way, and before I knew it, he was giving me a personal tour around the ruins. I AM special. I knew it.

It was such a nice, random thing to happen, especially because as we came upon the main ruins, the swarms of tourists finally came into view. I was silly to think I was practically alone up there - of course the tourists don´t climb the mountain; they ride the bus to the parking lot on the other side. Ugh! All of the tourists were getting led around in groups of twenty - see this! look at that! moving right along! things to do! I shouldn´t be negative about tourists because, well, I am one, and I´ve participated in many large-group tours myself, but can´t I feel cool for getting my own Spanish-speaking guide for FREE (though I did tip him afterwards) and for speaking Spanish to him? Yes I can.

The ruins were incredible. Really. I´ve seen some ruins around Cusco that were kinda "eh" but this was Machu Picchu type stuff (or so I think - I will know for sure on Thursday). In fact, my guide informed me that Pisac was actually much larger than Machu Picchu, with much finer architecture and stone-work, but Machu Picchu didn´t get destroyed by the Spaniards, whereas Pisac mostly did. I hope those Spaniards feel awfully guilty about the things they did to this incredibly intelligent people. I hope they feel worse than we do about what we did to the natives we found on OUR land.

The way these folks were able to put stones together in the 1500s is unbelievable. The structures are impecable, perfect. Each one fits with the next exactly - just like perfectly cut pieces of a puzzle. I cannot fathom how they did this.

We were standing on top of the mountain, my guide and I, when he asked me if I meditated. No, I said. Not really (unless you count talking to yourself alot - does that count?). Well, he told me, this is a very sacred place. Has lots of good and powerful energy. Every summer pilgrims flock here to soak up the good vibes. And I can see why. This place did have a certain something. I´ll call it the "god spirit", to steal from Mr. Cloniger´s words at Margo and David´s wedding. Just take a moment, close your eyes, take in the sounds and the smells, and there it is. The god spirit.

My favorite part of the entire ruins was the old Inca cemetary. And it´s not at all what you think of when you think cemetary. You basically look across this huge gorge, and all over the cliff opposite you are little bitty holes, carved into the mud. And each of those holes is a grave! Each person was buried in the fetal position, my guide told me, because the Inkas believed in rebirth. Never in my life has the concept of dust to dust made so much sense. These people weren´t buried in a box, keeping that dirty dirt away from their bodies. They were buried right into the side of a mountain - right into the earth, right back to the Earth Mother.

After a quick jaunt back down the mountain, I lunched at a restaurant on the plaza and ordered the "menu" which always makes me feel a bit adventurous and cool. Every restaurant offers a set menu, which includes soup and entree and sometimes a drink or dessert. It´s a much better deal than ordering something off the regular menu, but, of course, you have little choice as to what you eat. So as the other tourists lunched on chicken sandwiches, I dug into some lamb (i think?) dish with yummy frijoles on the side. Tasty!

******

I am in the small town of Aguas Calientes today, the jumping off point for Macchu Picchu. It´s an itty bitty town that´s been put together for the purpose of dealing with the masses of tourists visiting the ruins, and I don´t imagine I will do much of anything today, aside from maybe a short hike and a visit to the hot springs. And lots of reading! Tomorrow morning, I will wake early to climb (or maybe bus - I can´t decide) up to Macchu Picchu. It´s only about an hour´s walk, I believe, but everyone´s pushing me to go at like 5 AM, so as to beat the crowds to the ruins. But...waking before 5 AM to hike...not appealing to me in any way, especially since I´m going to be able to stay at the ruins until 5 PM tomorrow. I think I´ll like these ruins much more if they do not require my waking at such a ridiculous hour. We´ll see.

I hope the big MP will be worth it because it sure has gotten a lot of hype. This area is beautiful enough for me, I think, so I doubt I´ll be let down by the ruins. Will report back on Friday, before heading into the jungle on Saturday morning! (That´s another story entirely...)

Much love, my loves.