Once Upon An Incan Dream

When the Inca Empire rose to dominance along the Andes in 1540, the kingdom was characterized as four corners. At its centre was a city called the navel of the world since it was the holiest and most important centre of the culture. That place was called Cusco and it would be the final stop of my trip to South America. And what a city to end on. Today Cusco is one of the most visited places in the world and access point to the most famous archaeological site in the continent. As an added benefit, it is also the premiere destination in Peru to get drunk with a bunch of backpackers.

For the second time in my trip I would be joined by some adventurous friends from back home: Kuo-Bao and Anita, two classmates from Waterloo. By the time my tour bus from Puno arrived at 6pm, KB and Anita sound asleep. Blame it on the altitude!The Cusco main square is where most of the action went down. We walked there usually, along one of the many narrow, cobblestone streets. At some points the sidewalk was only one-foot wide, stirring terrifying images of falling into a speeding cab. The square was a hive of activity, restaurants, and churches. The road around it ressembled a MarioKart circuit for the army of little speeding taxis circling it all day. You couldn’t walk more than two minutes in the square without being offered something to buy: a tour, dinner, massage, cocaine.
One day we were walking in the square, eating some candy I had bought (pretty rare, candy is expensive!). A little girl came and asked for one, and, feeling a little generous, I obliged. Immediately after that, a little boy looked up and asked for a candy as well. Worried that I might get swarmed by little kids appearing out of nowhere, I told them to share (“compartir”). We walked on, and after about 20 metres looked back to see the two kids engaged in a tug-of-war with the gummy. I called out to the little guy. He started running at us full speed on those little legs to get his gift . I felt pretty good about that little gesture for most of the day.


Historically, there are tons to see in and around Cusco, and some of the stories spur the imagination. How has Ridley Scott not made an epic Inca flick? In a little over 100 years, the Incas rose from a small regional culture to a powerful empire stretching from Ecuador to Argentina. They had a thorough understanding of the moon and sun and stars and used them to keep a very accurate calendar. Farming was prosperous and roads were plentiful. We took a bus tour of the Sacred Valley, stopping at a few of the more impressive Inca ruins. They sure were great builders. At Pisac, a narrow road led past steep terraces to a ruined little city sitting atop a mountain ridge. Water flowed to a small pool along an intricate network of channels.
At the height of its power, the head Incan divided the kingdom in two and gave the pieces to his two sons. A brutal civil war ensued. People also started dying from mysterious new diseases like smallpox that were coming from Central America. And then to add insult to injury, gold-hungry Spain learned about the Incans. No street in Cusco will ever be named for Francisco Pizarro, the conquistador who destroyed the Incan Empire with less than 200 men and 30 horses. By 1533, through technology, deceit, ruthlessness, and greed, the last Inca emperor was dead and the great empire nothing but a memory. The Spanish were quick to plunder gold and preach Catholicism, bulldozing brilliant Inca architecture to build churches and colonial homes. Some buildings in Cusco have foundations of huge, perfectly aligned stones which once supported great Inca structures. The ruins of Saqsayhuaman (pronounced “Sexy woman”) lie above the town, now only a murdered memory clouded in mystery. Another site, Ollantaytambo, is a steep, walled fortress built into the side of a mountain like Minas Tirith. It is said the last Incan resistance here hurled huge boulders down at the Spanish before eventually succumbing to the same fate as the rest of their people.
Don’t let the Spanish get you down. I’m sure the place wouldn’t be nearly as popular without the tragic tales and mysteries surrounding the Incas. The city is beautiful, and the churches are unrivalled on the continent, both inside and out. We walked and ate and visited colourful markets. Anita haggled with the shrewdest souvenir sellers in the brilliant Pisac market, and we debated the merits of buying illegal films from a stand in town. A kid sold me some fake “Ray-Bans” in an authentic bag.
Later, we would return to Cusco and tackle the hills above the city by ATV, a memorable adventure that merits its own blog entry (but won’t get one). There was dust, drag racing, sheep, donuts, and even some peril for one of our fellow riders who drove up a hill in the wrong gear. The dusty clothes I wore ATVing went in a plastic bag afterwards that would not be opened until I got home. I also made a mental note to take an ATV trip one day. It is the best way to get around. I used to bestow that honour on biking, which I tried after Kuo-Bao and Anita left, but the elevation makes even the slightest incline feel like the last 20 minutes of a marathon. Two wheels provided an awesome downhill thrill down some rocky trails on the Moras-Maray route, but the control and power of a four-wheeler is tough to beat.
But the real jewel of Cusco’s crown is the lost Inca city of Machu Picchu. It lies in the mountains 80 km outside of town, accessible to most only via train. The only alternative way in is via the Inca Trail, a four-day hike along an old, stone Inca road through the highlands. That one requires a separate blog entry.