[Note: the internet is terrible here, so I'm missing about half the photos I wanted to include unfortunately. But trying to post at least the text and some photos anyways so that Mom knows I'm alive and doesn't call in the SWAT team. Also, bonus points for those that get the title reference.]
The chapeau: the Porter sibs in the morning stumble into a giant marketplace, hop into a sketchily located roadside van, travel through what could only be Middle Earth scenery, before finally arriving that afternoon in a beautiful cobblestone mountain village named Ollantaytambo.
(It's got a slight leg up on my usual ramen noodles.)
(Ellen: circa two days from now)
(This, I think.)
(The newspaper, I assume, is what they used to catch and store our organs.)
Morning Market Endevours
The morning begins with a light drizzle, light coffee and a light slice of hostel-provided bread. With no plan in mind (there may be a recurring theme here), JA and I set off to explore more of Cuzco, before departing that afternoon.
Following a trail of street food vendors--a modus operanda that has never yet failed me--JA and I burst our way through a crowd of firecracker-throwing teenagers to discover a giant thriving market place. And when I say thriving, I mean where else can you find tables of de-brained bull heads out and ready to go?
It has everything. Food, fabric, clothes, and even freshly peeled, full body frogs! None of this frenchy frog-legs-only crap here.
(The master frog peeler at work. Behind her, looking bored, is the sheep snout seller, clearly regretting her choice of atypical animal investment.)
After tearing myself away from all the beautiful fabrics (why yes, I do need ten tableclothes), we break for lunch in the market place, using the tried and true travel method of ordering an unknown something at random and hoping it doesn't kill you.
Surprise, it's delicious!! I get some steak-y thing and JA snags some mutton-y thing. Er well, it's red meat and on a disturbing human sized bone. But delicious and only $3! Hell, let's be honest, I'll eat anything at that price.
Ellen's Hippie Transformation
Post-marketplace adventure, JA and I head back to our hostel to grab our bags and figure out how to get to our next destination. Unfortunately, much like our long lost lizard cousins, we both fell victim to the sucking confines of sun-bathed beanbags, and proceeded to PTFO. It's a taxing endevour, having this fun.
So while we are passed out, I thought I would take this interlude to describe Ellen's slow degradation into Backpacker Hippyism.
Scenesetter: Ellen has not bathed in days. Ellen has not shaved, nor showered, nor engaged in other usually mandatory hygienic activities. Mostly, because Ellen forgot Rule Number One from the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: always bring a towel.
Because of this, Ellen is slowly degrading to the point all backpackers eventually reach: the pot-smoking, backpack-toting, dreadlock-doting, baggy-coated state of dirty hippie.
The only line I continuously draw is I will not give up my deodorant. But unless I find a shower/towel soon, I'm going to be all like, love and peace, man, and like what if we all just like acknowledged the globally conquering oppression of nontraditional values via western hegemony... Oh dear god, it's starting.
I kid you not, I've already had someone come up to me asking why I took out my dreads she gave me, before she realized she had mistaken me for someone else.
Long story short, I need a shower.
Collectiving the Colectivo
JA and I finally escape the dastardly clutches of a particularly vindictive set of uber comfortable beanbags and proceed to find a way to get from Cuzco, our current location, to Ollantaytambo.
Luck is on our side.
We heard rumors of colectivos, or giant vans that function as a shared ride/carpool service. So we take off in the general direction of said departure locale, though neither of us are exactly sure what we're looking for.
While trekking down the street in the generally correct vicinity, we pass an unmarked white van, with a man strapping bags on the roof, and another man going "Ollantaytambo?"
John Alex looks at me confused as I hurriedly agree with said second man, breaking our long-standing nonverbal agreement to ignore sketchy solicitors on the sides of side roads. "¡Sí!" I say eagerly, and proceed to board said unmarked white van, leaving JA no choice but to follow or see his only sister harvested for the organ trafficking trade that I'm sure exists in Cuzco.
Fast forward fifteen minutes, and we're on our way somewhere, in a 15 passenger van acting as the sole diversity requirement should Peruvian colectivos be held to the same standards as American public school systems.
(Token gringos.)
The Mountain Trek
I am going to refrain from posting po many pictures here because 1. They suck and 2. Landscape photography never turns out as well as you think it will.
In short, the ride from Cuzco to Ollantaytambo is beautiful. Steep rolling green hills dotted with ruins, sparkling rivers, nestled valley farms, and the whole picture framed by gigantic blue snow capped mountains. It looking like a freaking wine bottle label. I thought I would might get carsick but instead, like this hilarious gif of a slobbering baby that I can't upload right now (sadness), I spent the entire time trying to coat the window with my drool as I attempted to see it all.
The sole picture I managed to take unfortunately kind of sucks, because at the last minute, a stupid green mountain leaps in front of the towering snow capped peak I was trying to get a picture of:
I tried to get more photos but I would've had to elbow this adorable old Peruvian gentleman in the face to get the right angle, and while tempting, there way too many easily accessible cliff faces over which one could dump the body of a disrespectful American tourist.
The Sacredest of Valleys
We arrive in Ollantaytambo (say that three times fast) and I'm immediately in love. Quaint cobblestone streets and buildings seated along a bubbling river and surrounded on all sides by towering mountains covered in Inca ruins. The streets even had little mini canals running through them, and everybody knows I'm a sucker for architecturally creative running water decor.
We'll explore more tomorrow but the highlights:
I love these mountains. There's something very safe about being enclosed on all sides by towering mountain faces. Not to mention the many ruins overlooking the city would make an awesome sniper spot for anyone filming a B-movie action flick.
We also had to dodge an international incident when, upon finding an awesome local place for dinner, they brought us complimentary coca tea at the end of the meal. Hmm at risk of insulting our hosts, something tells me a "random" drug test may be soon on my horizon. So we did the tried and true "smile, thank the hosts, look left, look right, then dump it out the window as soon as their backs were turned" method. Somewhere in Ollantaytambo there is a very happy bush.
I also, most notably, got to dance! In baggy pants and hiking boots, but this girl got to salsa in this tiny dive bar to the applause of dreadlocked expats and locals alike. Also the bartender was hilarious because he kept forgetting our drinks because he kept getting distracted by earnestly inquiring how to spell "jewelry" in English. Which I might add, JA and I also stumbled over. Stupid English.
We close here in Ollantaytambo with a stunning reenactment of another famous Porter Sibling picture:
Tomorrow we head to the base camp at Machu Picchu: Aguas Calientes. Almost there!
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