Up the Creek in Aguas Calientes

Chapter Summary: in which Ellen and John Alex discover Tar Heels, ride a moving glass greenhouse, and search for the origin of the city's name: Aguas Calientes.

Rolling Mists and Coffee Trists

The day dawns to the soft patter of rain and a majestic mist rolling down the mountains. I am personally congratulating myself on my newfound altitude cure: drink lots of pisco sours the night before and altitude becomes the least of your health concerns.

I jest. But really though.

(Er, moving on, here's a subject-changing view from our apparently empty hostel this morning.)

I spend the early hours of the mornings laying in a hammock, watching the mist roll down the towering mountain peaks hovering above me. It's a cross between the most peaceful I've ever been and a nagging underlying what-if that this must be what WWI trench soldiers felt like watching the mustard gas roll in. (Too soon?)

(But if it's like mist scene in the second Hunger Games, I'm pushing JA first, yelling "you volunteer as tribute!")

But other than a nagging threat of imminent death, it was one of the most calming, most beautiful mornings I've had in a long time. If work could just go ahead and send my assignments here, that'd be great.

(But it must be sent via memo.)

El Tren entre las montañas:

After sufficiently receiving our morning fill of awe-inspiring landscape therapy, John Alex and I trek to the local train station, to catch the allegedly only form of transportation to the base camp/mountain town of Machu Picchu, Aguas Calientes.

(Our chariot awaits. Also, I am on the the hunt for pants like this lady's and I have yet to find them. Casual Friday attire?)

So the interesting thing about this train system. They segregate the nationals and foreigners into separate cars, charging extranjeros (fun fact: my phone just Freudian-slipped/autocorrected that to "extra jerks") roughly $50 while locals pay a measly $3 equivalent. How dare the Peruvian government realize what a priceless national treasure they have and up charge wealthier tourists accordingly while maintaining a reasonable local pricepoint, allowing for all its citizens to pay homage to their cultural heritage. The nerve.

Rather than word vomit what an amazing train ride it was, with blah blah breath-stealing views, etc (which there were), here's a picture of the rail car we rode in:

(It was a bit harder to rub my drool on the upper windows of this ride.)

Now mentally add in a white-water rafting worthy river to the left, paint some snow capped mountains on either side, and dot the sidelines with the occasional sporadic burst of corn clumps, and it's like you were there. (Bonus points: have a friend turn on a heat lamp overhead then blow softly in your face, and it's a 4D experience!)

Most notable, perhaps, was that one of the two people sitting across from us was a UNC student from Raleigh, NC. Tar Heels evidently are like post-beach trip sand. No matter how far you travel away from its point of origin, you'll always find more in your pa--wait. This is a terrible metaphor.

(Squirrel.)

Anyways, UNC student Carly and her fellow student traveller Tucker (Travis? Tanner? T-man. Yea, T-man.) from Indiana University had just finished a semester abroad in Lima, and were heading to Machu Picchu to celebrate T-man's 21st birthday tomorrow at the summit. Man, in my day, we just spent our 21st getting drunk off embarrassingly crappy liquor in hometown bars.

(Hey guys! Check out my Andes Mountains impression!)

In Agua(s) Caliente(s), But in a Good Way

By mid-afternoon, we pull into Aguas Calientes, our home for the next two evenings as we prepare to hike to our Trip's Main Objective the next morning.

So remember how I gushed over Ollantaytambo? Ignore that, and transfer all my gushing to here. While I'm sure I would feel differently during high season surrounded by the let's-stop-in-the-middle-of-the-busiest-road-possible-to-take-a-family-picture-that'll-probably-be-ruined-by-grandma-covering-the-lens-with-her-stupid-finger-again tourist hoards, Aguas Calientes during low season is *beautiful*. 

Our hostel view:

The town is a bit busier than Ollantaytambo despite being only accessible by train. But somehow, despite the town's size, there's nothing quite as humbling as looking out into the distance in the fading light at what appears to be an odd cloud formation, and realizing nope. That's a cliff face. On a mountain. Only a third of the way up. 

Damn.

Anyways, on that note, I'm dozing majorly. Would love to share more details of our day, including: our covert hot spring adventure, our shining example of the World's Worst Game of Pool, and our failed attempt to eat alpaca, but I'll save it for another time.

We'll end today's post with this gem: 

Yes, this CAT excavator is balanced precariously on a ledge. A ledge, you might ask, that does overlook a steep drop into a rushing river below. And yes, the driver is using the front end to try to grab onto the cobblestones and pull itself up. And no one, including the driver, is blinking an eye. #dayinthelife

Cheerio, my dearies. Tomorrow, circa way-too-early-to-be-awake-and-it'll-probably-be-raining, we head to World Wonder #4 on Ellen's List To Check Off!