Last day in Cusco: Shiny babies, soup, chocolate and acrylic paint

I don't think we could have planned this any better. All the boys opted to relax at home while Margo and I spent the morning walking down to the Plaza. Originally, I planned to take her to a chocolate museum, but when she specifically asked me to visit a church instead of eating chocolate, I had to oblige. The two of us went to the Society of Jesus Church to admire the "shiny babies" (according to Margo) perched on the shoulders of saints and their spectacular gold display at the pulpit. We made our way out with enough time to visit the chocolate museum's gift shop for a few souvenirs and to pick up the boys for lunch at Mister Soup.

For the afternoon I made reservations for the five of us to do a wine & painting & chocolate session with a company called Faces of Cusco. It's similar to those foofy classes where you drink a bunch of wine while painting on canvas. Don't get me wrong, I love those events. However this event was way better for a few reasons:

1. it required very little energy, which the boys needed after steamrolling their psycho butts up Rainbow Mountain in 2 hours instead of three. 

2. it involved drinking + kids which meant we could all stick together. The hostess was patient and enthusiastic with our various ages and abilities, so it wasn't stressful.

3. we had unlimited access to chocolate in liquid, solid, and cookie form, plus unlimited items to paint, plus a ready supply of tasty beer and wine. 

4. we were doing it in Cusco while on vacation which made it feel exotic and chic. 

5. the kids didn't complain once. They were so into their creations, eating chocolate and painting masterpieces they even forgot to fight each other.

It was a perfect way wind down to our trip. Maybe it was a teeny bit pricey at $45/person, but considering the top notch customer service we received (even before Peru when were planning the trip) and the "make yourself at home" atmosphere, I was more than happy to pay. Plus when Deets' painted pots and bulls sell for thousands of dollars, I know it really will have been worth it. 

Kids Center, Ice Cream and Religious Icons in Cusco

Knowing that hiking Rainbow Mountain would require some post-recovery, I let the kids make every decision the following day. Mark had found a "The Chiquity Center" that promised arts and crafts, fossil digging, trampolines, and a vast collection of skewered bugs to enjoy, so promptly at 9am we meandered down to the plaza to find it. The usual crowd of tourists, hikers and vendors filled the streets, but there were also several marching bands and a mess of men getting ready to carry large, well adorned religious icons perched on planks of wood through the streets. Color and noise were everywhere, a promising start for the day. 

This distracted the kids only in the slightest, so onward we went to have some real kid fun where about 4.50 USD equalled unlimited play. They did just that while I flopped onto a bench trying to re-forget a long forgotten scent of old diaper the hung in the air. Other than that, the place teemed with energy and mischief- especially when a birthday party arrived to take over. Only these 8 year olds were no match for Margo and Deets who kept trying to interact with them. One kid would jump on the trampoline, one of mine would follow. One would start a dance party, but would give up when one of mine would join. Obviously this became a game of cat and mouse and was only interrupted when Margo asked if we could get some ice cream. Stifling a yawn for the millionth time and ignoring my creaky knees, I got up after watching them play for over 3 hours. The lunch decision had been made. 

Interestingly, the place we ended up going to didn't have ice cream per se, but milkshakes, which according to Deets doesn't count. But all was well in the world with full bellies and a large collection of children's books that needed to be read. We sat at the cafe, reading odd-end donated books before retreating back to the house for a nap. Margo and Deets passed out, but sleep eluded me when I heard the rumblings of marching bands and men carrying giant icons came up the street. At 3pm in the afternoon, the streets were crowded and full of well wishing beer drinkers who followed the parade up the mountain to the Church of San Cristobal. In their wake were hundreds of discarded soup bowls, beer bottles, plasticware, and happy stray dogs taking full advantage. I felt so disappointed to see the trash, but the sanitation workers (consisting mostly of women) made quick order of it all. 

Per their request, I took the kids to pick out yogurts and cereal to eat while we waited for Mark and Josh to come home. Imagine my surprise when these dudes came home absolutely ravenous to eat Italian food instead of passing out like I did. We headed back down to La Bodega for some well reviewed pizza, pasta and beer. Only one more day left in Cusco...

Digging into the icy, rock hard dirt.

Margo's drum circle.

Examining his fossil finds.

Taking over the dance floor.

Practicing with a icon-less table...

...to eventually carrying the real thing.

Beach Jesus with potato offerings.

And Circus Boy.

Taking a break.

Machu Picchu

Machu Picchu! Do I really need to say more? Ok maybe a little. It was painful waking the kids up at 3:45am, dragging them onto the cold ceramic tile and getting them dressed- neither kid could function and I can't say I blame them. One mention of seeing Machu Picchu though, helped their frosted spirits of the morning. The driver picked us up at 4:15am with an estimated arrival time to the train station in Ollantaytambo at 6:00am. Traffic wasn't a problem, but police stops along the dark road were. At the first stop, our driver handed over documentation which didn't seem to make them happy so he was asked to exit the car and enter the station. I wasn't sure if they were bribing him or needed decent light to read. I wasn't even sure he'd come back. Ten awkwardly silent minutes later, he popped back in the van as if nothing had happened. About 30 minutes later it happened again, but this time the conversation between the police officer and our driver seemed more tranquil, as if they were discussing the weather. The command of "go with God" was given and off we went.

It was barely light at the station, but already packed with people going in the exact direction as us. We waited patiently for the announcement to board Inca Rail, and at 6:40am we embarked on the bumpiest train ride ever. I love how kids give you no warning of tummy troubles. Halfway through the trip Deets was on my lap drawing pictures of volcanoes and birds, when he stopped, coughed, and barfed all over the table, himself, and me. That was drippy and gross, but particularly entertaining to the passengers across from us. This is exactly why I always carry baby wipes with me. Mark convinced Deets to sleep off the second half of the trip, while the rest of us drank our "free" drinks. This was where I got to try tea infused with coca and eucalyptus, and Peruvian coffee. My god, they were good. Once drink/snack service finished, then came the next wave of entertainment: the bathroom line drama.

I mentioned the train was bumpy, which meant the line to the bathroom needed to be spaced apart so that one would end up flinging their bodies on the tables or each other. Our neighboring seat mate took this as his opportunity to jump the line, destroy the bathroom, and coyly say thanks to the line of women staring at him horrified. They tried to gain strength in numbers by bunching closer, but no sooner did the woman in front turn her head to chat with her friend in line, did another neighboring seat mate cut in front. Faces of disgust was all they could do. It was rather unfortunate too, that Margo and I got into the back of the line (she has this obsession with using strange bathrooms- I suspect it helps with the monotony of waiting) and when we popped out, the last man standing was sent back to his seat. But for a good thing: after nearly two hours we had arrived to Aguas Calientes, placeholder for the busses and trail hikers to get to Machu Picchu.

It was around 8:30 and we were relatively on time. I didn't know this at the time (Mark swears he told me, I'm certain he didn't) but we had to be at a specific trailhead inside the park by 9:00am or we'd miss our window. We paid out more money for bus transportation to get to the entrance, which was a series of dusty hairpin turns to get to the top within 25 minutes. We arrived, stripped clothes, and had a pee break before presenting passports and tickets to the entrance. I heard something from Mark that we'd had no less than 10 minutes to get to a trailhead- but which one and which way?! 200 feet inside the park and we were faced with: left or right. We chose right, an unfortunate decision.  By the time this was realized, we were on the opposite side of the park and missed our chance. It took about 20 minutes for the sting to go away and to accept we wouldn't be hiking up what I now as Sun Gate. It's the hike that gets you the most idyllic view of the giant peak Huayna Picchu.

We hiked up, we hiked down, we hiked in circles and peeked through windows of time. The kids were amazing and entertaining, free climbing where it was safe and holding our hands when it wasn't. They played king of the mountain and this ridiculous game of "do you like ___?" It's similar to the game of "would you rather?" I loved people watching. The mountain was crowded, but at least it was filled with enthusiastic people from all over the world. I mean, there were a few a-holes, but there always are. Mark took 659 photos to my scanty 279; it was fun watching him analyzing a shot then attacking.

Due to an urgent bathroom break the last half of our time there caused Mark, Deets, and our friend Josh to split up from me and Margo. She and I were left to master the mountain on our own. We made our way to the upper route of the trail which is killer. Margo made zero complaints and just went for it. This sounds pompous, but people were impressed by her energy and I was as proud as a damn peacock. We finally caught sight of the boys on the decent and made our way out to catch the bus back down. There was ice cream and beer waiting for us before getting on the train and again to our driver who waited for us since 6:00am that morning. Mark convinced him to stop at the Sacred Valley Brewery for one last time and then make our way back to Cusco (don't worry, we tipped him well). I had to settle myself for an early sleep since the next day I was scheduled to get up for a 2:15am pick up time to hike Rainbow Mountain...

Waiting for the bus in Aguas Calientes

The big MP.

Climbing.

Climbing.

Climbed.

Back side of MP.

Sacrificial block- carved straight from the mountain top.

Through the foliage.

Margo choosing her weapons at the brewery.

Light saber rock guns.

Sacred Valley Tour, Peru

Even though we all were tired enough from traveling and sun exposure, sound sleep was hard to find. In a matter of minutes we all became nose whistling mouth breathers in our heatless apartment. Sure we were provided a space heater and were nearly flattened with layers of heavy blankets, but finding a stable temperature proved quite difficult. Plus we'd later learn that the home owner would charge us over a 100 dollars to use the (useless) heater, which made the house feel even colder. For the first few nights Mark and I ended up playing musical beds (the house did have seven total) in three different rooms to deal with insomniac children, dry coughs and snores, and ice cold feet against overly warm bodies.

Nevertheless, we all woke early from jet lag and the excitement of seeing giant stacks of handcrafted ancient rocks, perfectly placed during the Incan empire. We hired a driver to do a circuit tour around the Sacred Valley- someone experienced to handle steep hairpin turns and navigating amongst the masses of tour buses on two lane highways. I'm prone to car sickness so I won the front passenger seat, but nearly regretted it when the sun hit the dashboard.

Our first stop was a alpaca/cultural site called Awanakancha that introduced us to the many types of even toed ungulates which we could feed with unlimited stalks of greenery. The alpacas were a huge hit and not just with kids. I didn't see a single person frowning there, even if we were in tight quarters with a mess of camera happy and selfie stick jabbing tourists getting herded down to the line to the other end. Past the alpaca pens, we watched weavers, corn shuckers, and jewelry makers present their talents with adorable children right by their side. If the kids were excited about feeding alpacas, I was over the moon looking at the variety of potatoes and corn grown in Peru. I love food so much.

Onward we went to Pisac to gape at ancient terraces, tombs, and fortresses at 10,826 feet. Nothing says fun than walking halfway up the mountain when your daughter announces she needs to use the bathroom in the most urgent way. We could tell on a few less worn paths people unfortunately had marked their territory in ungallant ways. Undeterred, we found the proper bathroom and continued our venture up to the fortresses lined with empty rooms, perfect for playing "cozinha," Margo's Brazilian version to playing house... or rather "kitchen." And as we became champions of the Incan Fortress, we quickly headed back to the van to escape the increasingly congested stairways.

I suspect we were ragingly late on our return, having spent over two hours hiking. Everyone was in dangerous range of hangriness, but still opted to run through Pisac's giant market at the bottom of the mountain. Deets was obsessed with getting a chess board, and Margo wanted to buy her classmates toy alpacas. Those missions accomplished it was another hour fifteen minutes to get to the brewery we'd picked out for lunch. Mark reasoned we could avoid complaints of car sickness if the kids slept on empty stomachs. He was right.

We passed through a couple towns, one being notable for its famous grilled cuy (Guinea pig.) Sure enough, Calca, a town with puma pride, had women waving their cuy-on-a-stick to cars; the shiny taut skin charred to a deep maroon/brown, feet and heads intact. I enjoyed this so much I didn't think to take a picture. Once out of their town, Mark muttered something about my responsibility to look for the brewery that may or may not be directly on the roadside; or possibly across the river and past the railroad tracks. Knowing how late we were for lunch, I was freaking out that I'd miss it, saving all my attention to blurry buildings and unreadable signs. We lucked out, and the driver deftly turned into the parking lot for Sacred Valley Brewing Company (Cerveceria del Valle Sagrado). Beered and fed with ample time to play with rocks and harass the local cat, we were all fit for another stop: the Ollantaytambo Ruins at 9,169 feet.

Our driver gave us 45 minutes to ascend and return to the van. Craning my view to the top, I doubted this to be feasible. But the kids all but ran up the steps, nary a complaint to be uttered. We traversed across stone irrigation channels, up the terraced layers, and past thousands of tons of carved rocks with spy windows in between. We made it back filthy to the core and only ten minutes late!

I was certain this was the last hurrah for the day, especially since it was 4:15pm already. But some time later the driver abruptly turned left into Chinchero at 12,343 feet. He gave us thirty minutes, but with the dropping sun and cold temperatures, we kept on schedule, giving Margo exactly five minutes to make her (losing) case not to see rocks anymore. Deets however gained his second wind and was climbing on anything he could make purchase on, followed by sprinting across a terrace field which quite frankly was irresistible even for me. When Margo caught up, she ran too. And 28 minutes later we collapsed in the van watching the sky turn red, orange and purple- a twilight comparable only to a Colorado version. We arrived home around 8pm, with the bus depot across the street already filled with empty tour buses from what was likely a full day for many others.

Alpaca saying hi at Awanakancha.

Weaver at Awanakancha.

Potatoes of every shape and size.
Awanakancha

Incan ruins in Pisac.

Pisac ruins.

Pisac Market.

Pisac Market.

Mmm. Beer.

Ollantaytambo Ruins from below.

And above.

And from the side. Expert terracing.

Needing no encouragement.
Ollantaytambo.

My Margo, so fearless.
Ollantaytambo.

Chinchero Ruins.

Chinchero field that drops off to nothingness.

Chinchero at sunset.

Chinchero Champion Climber.

Chinchero local. 

Cusco, Peru

According the Lonely Planet Peru, "the Incans deemed Cuzco and the Sacred Valley the belly button of the world." Now, I have worked as an operating room nurse and I have pulled some strange and very gross things out of belly buttons so I found the book's description nauseating and well, wrong. Cusco et. al is anything but, and we could feel this the moment the plane broke through the fog of Lima, rising against the grain of the Andes Mountain Range. When I first saw the snow peaks I was so excited that I jumped out of my seat and across the aisle, scaring the man dozing against the window. He accepted my apology and adroitly went back to sleep despite the wafting dung bomb in the bathroom, and my children (and me) cheering over the fact we were flying over 25 million year old mountains.

In less than 90 minutes we found ourselves wandering past baskets and baskets of free coca leaves, eager taxi drivers jockeying for customers, and into the parking lot to meet our Air BnB hostess who hired a van to take us across town. She marched us inside our home for the week to discuss not only the house, but to assist us in planning transportation and timelines to make the most of our time here. We'd have a few big, napless travel days to tour the valley mixed with a few milder days exploring around Cusco. The kids, already adept to Schlink Family Fun Hikes went along with the plan more or less. We tried to focus on all the awesomeness that granite rocks, forts, and llamas bring to the table, and less on the long curvy roads, elevation challenges, and the inevitable amount of walking we'd do.

Luckily, our apartment was only a fifteen minute walk to Plaza das Armas, the big famous square of Cusco. Adorned with giant churches, gaping tourists, shops, and restaurants, there's plenty of comforts to be found. We marched the kids directly there in search of food, but first and foremost to watch the 2016 Champions' League Final. The entire city was busting with sounds of soccer fans, and nary a seat to be found- which didn't bode well for exhausted and hungry kids. We ended up at a pub with a surly bartender where we (I) ate a lack luster plate of tapas: pickled meats, spicy olives and cheese. Perhaps it wasn't the best choice, for the kids lasted about twenty minutes before I tugged them back up the hill to take a much needed nap. Luckily, they bounced back for another trek into town at dinner time, where Deets picked a Peruvian restaurant called Deva that boasted its famous "chicha de jora" a sweet and frothy fermented corn beer. To make matters even better, we enjoyed pisco sours and Cusquena Quinoa Beer to wash down ceviche and roasted alpaca tenderloin. Verdict on the alpaca: chewy. Perhaps grilled might be better?

The Plaza on the way home was crammed with spectators watching a traditional music dance show. The kids danced to stay warm in the quickly cooling night while I jogged off to pick up necessary ground coffee for the morning. We made it home around 8pm and... by 8:30pm, we had all passed out. 

Andes Mountain Range

Peaks estimated to be around 20,000 feet.

Big.

Just outside Cusco

Overhead view of Saqsaywaman Ruins
overlooking the valley in which Cusco sits.

Cusco, Peru

Plaza de Armas
Church of the Society of Jesus

Quinoa beer. Clean taste but you need to
ignore the smell of silo corn storage.