Experience of the week: I sensed the limits of my physical strength. And I paid a lot of money for it too. Anyway, I have the feeling that it is becoming more and more common that you have to pay a lot of money for such experiences. In Australia it was skydiving, in New Zealand it was the 9 hour hike up Mount Doom volcano and in Peru it was the Inca Trail. Arguably, it can be described as a kind of pilgrimage route, 43 km long at extreme altitudes, taking you to Machu Picchu and your own limits. You pay a whopping US$ 480 for 4 days of tormenting yourself through rain and clouds (if the visit to Perú falls in the rainy season).
This includes incredibly delicious food, accommodation in a 2-person tent and entry to Machu Picchu, but not a guarantee of good weather, someone to carry your luggage or massage your calves. It was my toughest hike so far and yet, as hockey players, Hanna and I were fitter than the others, even the boys. On the second, hardest day, I got to camp 15 minutes earlier than everyone else, on the fourth, Machu Picchu day, we were the only girls who did all sorts of extra hikes. We were tired (and it was that extreme tiredness that I was looking for), but we could have gone further. It got scary when the next day we didn't even have sore muscles (maybe our bodies were tired from any hangovers...) It was a good experience to work and earn this wonder of the world Machu Picchu by yourself. Because that made the sight even more valuable than it already was.
Place of the week: Wayna Picchu. "What a serious spelling mistake" you might think, because as a Peru traveler I should know that one of the 7 wonders of the world is called Machu Picchu. However, this is not the error devil, but the mountain known from the famous Machu Picchu photo. It is the great green rock that rises behind the well-known ruins of the ancient Inca city. Machu Picchu means "Old Mountain", I don't know what Wayna Picchu means, but I guess it means "Not-for-Old-Mountain" or something like that. Only 400 visitors are allowed to experience climbing this steep piece of Inca treasure every day. So you have to get up a little earlier (it was obviously too early for our own guide, but more on that when we observe the week). The alarm clock rang at 3.30 a.m., at 4.15 a.m. the big race with the other gringos started and at 5.45 a.m. we were standing just before the first bus (which the lazy tourists can take) arrived at the gates to the ancient world of ruins and actually got the reward as a reward coveted stamp that would allow us entry to the peak of Machu Picchu tours. However, it almost didn't come to that because we were soaked from the rain on the outside and bathed in our own sweat from the hunt up the steep mountain on the inside, so frozen through that we could hardly follow the tour guide's information, which was similar to the constant rain beat down on us.
The clouds blocked the view of an overall picture of the marvel anyway and so only a hot chocolate and the memory of the torment we endured could bring us to finally defeat Wayna Picchu. And it should become the place of the week and the whole 4 day Inca Trail. The ascent was hard and steep, you really had to climb and crawl and 3 steps were partly as tall as I am with my 1.77 meters (one wonders how the Incas, who were on average 1.50m, probably managed that ), but when we finally reached the summit, we were actually rewarded for the 4 days of toil: the clouds opened up and offered us the much-coveted, hard-fought view of the World Heritage Site. You were right in the middle, in the postcard picture. If one of these often empty phrases of everyday use is correct, then it is this: Hope dies last. Up to the last moment we had hoped that the constant rain (which unfortunately is a matter of course during the rainy season) would put a stop to it. The timing couldn't have been better as with the 2 hours without rain we were on the spot of the week. And that made the sight even more valuable than it already was.
Observation of the week: Speaking the national language opens completely different doors. Even the locked door from the last, most important part of the Inca Trail tours. So after 3 days, 43 kilometers over wet sticks and the steepest stone, we stood, as mentioned above, at the crack of dawn at the entrance gate at the foot of the mountain to Machu Picchu. 50 minutes and a nearly 90 degree climb from the entrance and stamp to the actual site. We were already wet and a bit late because the tour guides hadn't organized the (very) breakfast in time. When the attendant asked us for the entrance tickets and our sleepy guide answered that he didn't have them, our excited hearts almost stopped. More and more people passed us and started the race for the 400 stamps to Wayna Picchu. Everyone hurried, only our tour guide could not say anything but “Please make an exception”. None of the brave group of 6 people (the other 8 were driving the bus) could speak Spanish and so only I could almost go insane at the useless talk of our equally useless guide. Luckily I got involved, first trying the pitiful way that we all came from England, Germany and Denmark just to climb Wayna Picchu, then just begging what we could do. At first it was said that we could leave a passport as a deposit, but who does that in South America? As much as I like Perú, I could confidently do without a longer forced stay. 5 minutes of frustrated waiting later I tried again, this time with the other of the two guards. He suddenly explained to me that a student ID card would also do the trick. So we put a driver's license as a deposit and the steep mountain in 30 minutes instead of 50. We climbed obsessively, with only a 20-second break, past everyone who had overtaken us earlier at the gate. Speaking the local language not only enables you to get in touch with and get to know the locals, but also to climb mountains, or sometimes even to move them.
Creature of the week: The Chaski. A Chaski is human not animal, but so inhuman that it can be considered this week's creature of the week. It's not meant to be derogatory but admiring, because I was amazed at the power of the Chaskis for 4 days. These are Peruvian men with calves made of steel who can be booked as porters for the weak gringos and who also carry kitchen equipment, tents, chairs, tables, food and everything else that is needed uphill and downhill for 4 days. That's admirable in itself, given how much you suffer from your own body weight (and no, you're not even fat). But on top of that, the Chaskis (this means “friend” by the way) always have to be several many steps ahead of the group so that after they have covered the same path, they can also set up the tents and cook the food. We left the camp before the Chaskis and arrived after them. At some point you saw a mountain range of backpacks scurrying past, golden-brown steel calves peeping out from under them and mostly muddy feet in sandals made from car tires. I'm not exaggerating when I say they hopped down the path like rabbits. Anyway, we crawled like snails. The record for the Inca Trail is 3 hours 40. It must have been a chaski without luggage that covered the trail in a time that I don't believe. I can't explain this record any other way. Some people wouldn't even manage this time in a marathon. This time is inhuman. Just like the job of the chaski. For the 4 days of drudgery, a porter-cook-dishwasher earns 170 soles (approx. 43€) and the tip of the gringos. I pitied them more than I did for the poor Bolivians in the Potosà mines. I couldn't have cooked, pitched and dismantled tents, let alone carry anything while I was on the Inca Trail. I seriously thought about starting to hate the Incas. It's kind of a love-hate relationship, because now I'm even more interested in their culture. For example, I'd like to know why the hell they were such masochists!
Rest of the week: So the main part of this week was the Inca Trail that I had been looking forward to for so long. We spent the days before and after this at its starting point, in Cusco. We enjoyed spending a few days in the same place and celebrated extensively in the many bars in the party city. We found new friends and old acquaintances and that it had once again been an excellent week. It's unbelievable that my perfect travel companion Hanna is already spending her last week here. So now a new section of my journey begins. And I realize with a shock: It's already halftime for me too.
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