Walking Around Cusco

Temporarily satisfied with seeing Incan ruins, today was another "light day" touring Cusco. On the agenda: visit a few churches, markets, and time permitting- a museum or two. Because our days seemed to mostly start at Plaza de Armas, we had already tracked down two: the Cathedral of Cusco aka Cathedral Basilica of the Assumption of the Virgin, and Church of the Society of Jesus. Church services were always going on so we didn't get a chance to visit inside. Continuing on our jaunt, we passed by Church of San Francisco and the Church of San Pedro, both which had a live marching band getting ready for processionals down the street. 

Margo was in some need of butt paste (hiking is hard work on wee bums!) so I detoured to a pharmacy while the others peered inside the doors for details. Busy with preparations and/or services, we missed these as well. No matter because we arrived to the San Pedro Market, which was full of entertainment and colors. Stacks of bamboo, buckets of juice, and piles of vegetables were everywhere. Then we wandered inside the tarp covered portion, and even Margo was distracted from her bottomly discomforts (man it's dry here. In Cusco, I mean) to stare at the products on offer. The cool morning weather meant glorious smells of fresh meats, produce, and breads. 

Walking back toward the Plaza with efforts focused on getting lunch, we turned onto a pedestrian street attracted by sounds of traditional drums and flutes. We walked right into a tiny courtyard where the musician was playing in full-on Incan dress. Of course the herd of alpacas totally eclipsed this experience as the kids rejoiced and begged to feed them. Donation in the pot, the kids stuffed corn husks in their faces, squealing with joy. It was all good and fun until the alpaca lady tried to put Deets on an alpaca. Neither the creature nor he were impressed. Taking this as our cue, we had one other church in mind: San Blas aka Saint Blaise, patron of throat illnesses, animals, wool combers, and wool trading. Seems appropriate. Up the steps we went, where- yes the church was closed. But no matter, we were waaaaay overdue for lunch so we stopped at a volunteer run cafe right on the square: The Meeting Place where proceeds go to local charities. They make big-ass yeasty waffles, and killer mango lassis. I ate so much I felt drunk. To walk off the food stupor, we made our way home for an early evening. Tomorrow would be another epic travel day to: MACHU PICCHU! Estimated time of departure: 4:15 am...

 Many vendors serve the juice
in a plastic sack with a straw instead of cups.

Outside the San Pedro Market.

Bamboo and coconuts.

Fresh and cool air running through the market.

Gizzards? Feet? Beak? All included.

Margo wanted to know why their eyes were still open.

Alpaca feeding time.

Shaggy.

Margo, Em, Deets and Josh.

Planning.

Cusco's Saqsaywaman Hike

As far as Mark is concerned, a "light day" means not getting into the car. It doesn't mean we don't explore and hike any less, or take a thousand pictures; it does mean a nap at some point during the day which really, everyone likes.  On our first "light day," we started the morning walking down to Plaza de Armas for morning drinks and walking straight back up the thousands of steps to visit Saqsaywaman (sounds like "sexy woman" when said by Margo) an Incan citadel that overlooks Cusco valley at 12,142 feet. To use the word "impressive" doesn't quite explain the feeling when you get there. Maybe stupefied, monumental or profound? In any case, the carved mortarless rocks are very cool. We conquered the top of the fortress and upon taking a water break, Deets asked if we could visit Giant Jesus, better known as Cristo Blanco on the neighboring hill. So we did. At 26 feet tall, it's a tinier version than Rio's Christ the Redeemer who is 125 feet tall. 

By now we all reached a threatening point of crabbiness and thirst, so initial plan was to grab a snack then nap. But first we had to go back down the thousands of steps thinking we could cut across the hill and find something on the way. Of course we made our way exactly back to Plaza de Armas and totally distracted: adorable kids in school uniforms running around, music playing, photography exhibits on the square... there is almost always something going on here. Instead, a friendly voice directed us to a Papachos for local beer and burgers, and coloring for the kids (and me). The hostess handed over crayons and pictures to color which offended Deets to no end. He only colors on blank paper thank you very much. Perhaps it interferes with his creative mojo, but every time we have to talk him down from his indignation and tell people thank you for the gesture. Weirdo.

One long walk and several hours later than previously hoped, we made it home- and passed out. We probably ate something later that night but I don't remember. I'm sure it was amazing. 

Saqsaywaman.

Taking a rest. Saqsaywaman.

Cristo Blanco.

Saqsaywaman.

Photo credit: Deets.

Camera standoff with Dad.

All dressed up for the photo.

Saqsaywaman.

Saqsaywaman.

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.

Porto de Galinhas

In Porto de Galinhas, before you even get out of your car the vendors will find you. They stand in the middle of the road, frantically waving down cars promising a full day of adventure, leisure and wonder. The enthusiasm is no less upon the cobblestone pedestrian streets lined with restaurants and vendors, or the beach... lined with restaurants and vendors. I love that I could buy myself a wooden boat, or eat myself sick with fresh-shucked oysters. I love that I can drink a cocktail from a cored out pineapple and pick out fabric for the dinner table and only get up from my chair to pee in the ocean. The quest for lethargy is equal to the enticing snorkeling, surfing and SUP lessons opportunities. I will admit though, that the constant milling and prodding can get annoying but my kids have the "thanks but no thanks" gig down pat so that helps. I just need to teach them not to yell it before the vendor even arrives.

This Saturday's excursion was no different except this time we did an overnight stay at a local pousada owned by one of Margo's classmate's moms: Perola do Porto. There were 5 other school families already there so my kids paired several hours of swimming at the beach with several hours of pool time while the parents drank caipirinhas and beer will into the night. With all the sun exposure, I used Deets' 8pm bedtime as an excuse to pass out early because going to bed with Margo (who asked to go to bed) at 6:30pm would've been unseemly. The next day my kids woke up right on time (crack of dawn) for several more hours of swimming completely unbothered by pruned fingers or chlorine reddened eyes. They are so hardcore.

Lounge, boat, swim, repeat.

Buy, buy!

Sell, sell!

"Mustache Kiosk"

Snack, snack!

Eat, eat!

Tablecloth vendor.

Voice vendor.

Fresh pressed sugar cane juice vendor.

Chickens, roosters, hens...

Porto de G around the bend.

Girlfriends. 

The Fearsome Four.