Packs of tousists meandered amongst crowds of other torusists. They all had the same deal going. Camera slung over the neck, all of them costing probably at least a couple grand, floppy hat mated down on the head, the newest North Face wind-breaker, and all had looks of ambigiuty on their faces.

Of course, Cusco was quite known throughout the world as a toursistic hotspot, with archeological sites galore. These sites, for the most part are all quite accesible. Therefore, just about anyone, from anywhere can see them with come dough in their pocket. Simple. The real gravy is where the routes to the sites become difficult. thats where the crowd is weeded out, only the strongest and most determined can make it, and you get bitchin, over the top, in your face views, which for the average photographer, means pictures galore. My camera isnt quite at the quility level yet to be considered a proper tool for an enthusiastic photographer. Moving on...My point is I happen to find this mountain in Otevallaya (spelling?) that made my day and made me realize the power of discovering the treks which were off the beaten path.

Earlier in the day, I awoke at 7 am, packed up the clothes scattered across my room, hit the shower, and was out the door to meet Josh and his buddy at another hostel. They wanted to take motorcycles to Machu Pichu. TO me this didnt seem like a great idea. It had rained last night nd the trek would be 7 hours of winding mountain roads. I had breakfast I followed them to a shop just out of curiosity. The shops to rent the bikes were not open yet. They all said 9 am. The time was 8. They wanted to head to a town Aguas Calientes at the base of Machu Pichu and so did I . My gut was telling me though I would take another option: the buses. It would be cheaper and hopefully safer. They were lagging after a while. I told them I wanted to get the show on the road. We slapped high fives and I was off to Aguas Calientes and they would probably dick around for another half an hour before they left. They had to wait for the bike shops to open and they were set on taking the bikes, so I bummed outta there.

I hopped in a small bus of about 20 people and headed up a winedy mountain road. Snow caped peaks loomed in the distance like Incan Gods. On each side of the road there were fields with old ladies net over picking the dirt. There were no trackers. Mules pulled large metal rakes as the metal claws dug trenches in the soil suitable for farming. I met a young university student on the bus. We chatted for a bit, practicing English and Spanish. The bus was full of farmers, old ladies, and vaqueros. Quite a surreal experience.

I got to a small town and the bus let some of us off. The ride had been about an hour thirty, not bad. The next bus was quite the same, only the ride to the next town I needed to go to was only 25 minutes. I arrived at another small town. Now I needed to catch a bus to Santa Maria and then Aguas Calientes. This bus ride coming up would be 4 hours. I walked around the plaza, yet I couldnt find out where to wait for the next bus. I asked a woman in a store. She informs me to just wait in the small plaza in the center of this town and it will cruise by. Gosh the answers are always so noncholant and ambiguous. I waited near the plaza. A half hour goes by. I now walk to another mujera. Shes a vendor and I ask her where the bus to Santa Maria is. And what time. She tells me to wait in the plaza as well. I wait in the plaza. Another 30 minutes go by. Now its been an hour and the sun is beating down on me amongst the dust clouds hitting my face. I now go to the building entitled "tourist information". Boy do I feel like a tool. I walk in and ask the guy in Spanish where the bus stop is and what th heck time was the bus coming. He replies in English and tells me there is a bus in 30 minutes and to wait in the plaza. AAhhhhhhhh, ione more person tells me to wait in the plaza, there gonna have it!!

I wait in the plaza like a patient sick person in a crowded hosptial waiting room. I head to a cafe to order a sandwich de pollo while I"m killing time. The guy who brough it out to me starts asking me all sorts of questions about where I"m from and yada yada. I make small conversation with him and soon after an hour of conversation my patience is thin ice. there is no bus. pop the question once again and ask the dude for the low down. He tells me there wil be a bus in 30 minutes as well. I retort back to tell hm everyone has already told me that buddy, nice try sucker! No he says, they are wrong, and he then goes into this long rant in Spanish about why he is right. Alright buddy, I"ll test your theory, I"ll wait for 30 minutes, one last time.

I wait for another 30 minutes. I then wait for another 30 minutes, figuring that since it had begun to rain the bus bus that this guy predicted would arrive in thirty minutes would arrive in double the time. I soon realize that everyone has no clue if a bus is coming or not, but hey why not blow smoke up the travlers real end for some giggles? Around 3 pm after still waiting at the same cafe near the plaze, there is still no bus. I call it quites after someone informed me of the most logical explanation. IT had rained today, the road was quite dangerous, and someone had driven off the road. I would now saty at this small town for a large bedroom and a bathroom for 5 bucks. Tomorrow I would try to get to this damn town at the base of Machu Pichu.

written by  kipmaddog on September 21, 2009 from Cusco, Peru
from the travel blog: adventures from down south
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That was a great run down and " right on" this is so common and the way of their life. I am so glad that you have the b...'s to go off on your own. I have to laugh so much at all the people on all the tours. On your own you will see and learn 100 x's more. No matter where I am all I need is some snacks, water and oh yes , toilet paper and I am out of there. good for you. R.W.

written by  Rene'e Watson on September 21, 2009

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