Living with Locals

What a FANTASTIC day. 

(Note: the space bar on the computer in the lobby is broken so I'm again attempting this on the iPhone, please excuse the forthcoming typos)

I slept in before finally getting up for breakfast around 9 and started asking Edwin at the hotel how to get back to Cuzco. For 90 sols (~ $40) I could get a private taxi to take me the whole 1.5 hours back. Easy enough, but I wasn't in a hurry to get back since I hadn't found much of interest to do in Cuzco on my own. Colca Canyon was too far to be realistic. The archeological site at Moray did look interesting though and was sort of on the way so I asked if it was possible to stop there. Si, a taxi would probably take me there too for about 150 sols. 

Then I asked about buses. Si, to Urambamba about 1.30 sols, then take another bus to Chinchero for about 2 sols but tell the driver you want to get off at Maras. Then maybe you find a taxi there to take you to Moray. Then get back to the highway and catch the next bus to Chinchero, comes every 20 minutes or so, for 2 sols. Then one more bus to Cuzco, about 2 sols again "I think". 

Hmm, a bit more complicated, but definitely cheaper. Sounded like it might be an interesting way to travel. My curiosity was peaked. 

"Just locals though. No Tourists. Only Spanish, no English." 

"oh?" Stakes just went up a bit there. "is it safe?" I asked. 

"safe... Safe? What does this word mean, safe?" 

"Uhm... Will I get robbed?"

"ah, no no. Cuzco Cuzco, maybe cuzco, but not here. Just Uh.... How you say, attento?" motioning to his pockets. 

Gotcha. And sold. 

So off I went, armed only with a 2"x3" inch conceptual map of the sacred valley region and a general idea of what i was doing to travel with the locals and "no English". Brave? Perhaps. Stupid? Si! But I was in the mood for some adventure and wanted to make the most of this trip still so I went anyway (after sending a note to the family in case I disappeared). I had the time of my life. 

First leg to urumbamba was indeed 1.30 sols. The "bus" was a falling-apart white van that would normally seat about 8 or 9 in Canada, but I counted 17 heads as we pulled away from the square, not counting any babies I couldn't see from the back, where I sat with my legs twisted up and going numb underneath both my backpacks. True to edwin's word, "only locals, no tourists". I was loving it. 

5 minutes out of town we picked up 2 more, somehow, and continued on with people getting off or on at seemingly random spots along the highway, arriving in urumbamba about 30 minutes later. It was much bigger than ollantaytamba, which I wasn't expecting, and had a proper bus station (in developing world terms) where I disembarked to try to find the next bus. Aside from 2 other backpackers who spoke Spanish, I was definitely the only non-local there. Finding the bus wasn't too hard though. I can peice together a guy shouting "Cuzco Chinchero" means the cusco bus going through chinchero, not Pisac (where I'd already been with the group) and him pointing at me and waving left saying "bolletero" meaning I needed to go buy a ticket from somewhere over there first. 

The only thing that made it difficult was all the taxi drivers chasing after me trying to get me to go with them. Again, they didn't speak a word of english but that didn't stop them from continuing to talk to me as if I understood anyway. I did get the gist. Taking a taxi was smarter as they'd take me right to moray. I really wished I'd asked Edwin how to say "I know this is dumb, I'm doing it for fun, go away". 

This bus was quite different than the last as it was an actual bus this time, albeit just as packed. Some older farmer looking guy was sitting across the aisle holding half a kitchen in his lap, trying to explain to me that my bags were taking up his wife's seat and laughing hysterically when he realized I didn't understand a word of Spanish. Eventually I figured it out and we all laughed while I apologized and moved my bags. In the exchange he figured out I was going to to Moray and would later point out the stop to me when we got there. Was not the only kind soul to help me on my way today. All part of the experience, and I was grateful for it. 

The Maras/Moray bus stop is a small, semi-open concrete, um, "structure" at a t-intersection in the middle of nowhere on the highway. There was only a few people standing around and as I was getting my bearings, one approached me to offer me a ride go Moray. I didn't understand how much the cost was, but it turned out he spoke a little English which by this point was a welcome relief. 

So I piled into his hatchback. Just me, him, the three full grown males in the back seat, and the one other guy in the hatchback. Sensing a theme yet? :). The other guys all got out in Maras, a town of about 3000 and one of the highlights of my trip thus far, even though I only drove through. Stone and mud construction everywhere. Most streets too small for cars, and many just dirt. Donkey trains carrying hay. Farmers ushering their herds of sheep up the road. There was only 2 hotels, both for locals. This was the most authentic Peru I'd seen yet. 

Nuel, the taxi driver, and I exchanged some English and Spanish lessons for the rest of the trip, his several hundred English words trumping my few dozen Spanish ones. It was quite enjoyable actually. The scenery was stunning, and Nuel was very good company. I was glad to be driven by someone who was could provide some local info and was genuinely friendly too. He pointed out Mount Peronica (sp?) and struggled to explain it's 5800 meter height, which looked incredible in the distance. He also explained some of his Quechuan background. And He waited patiently in the car while I took some pictures of the Moray site, and then told me about the salt mines near by I'd never heard of which he could show me for another 20 sols. Turned out to be another beautiful site and I considered myself incredibly lucky to have met this particular taxi driver as there were several others who didn't speak any English and I never would have known about the mines otherwise. In the end, over an hour of his time and more than 30 kms later, the memorable experience cost me only 50 sols (~ $18). and one mild heart attack when he started his engine with one of my bags still in the car after I entered the mines. 

Just turning it around. Phew. :)

Waved down and jumped on the next bus, after trying to waive down a bus of school children to the delight of the Spanish locals at the bus stop. Another local gave up his seat for me and climbed into the front with the driver, then turned around to talk to me the entire 30 minutes to Chinchero. Or at me. Him and his brother. That was about all I could understand they were saying. Not that that stopped them from trying to keep talking anyway. 

From Chinchero, I decided that was enough adventure for one day. I piled into a taxi, a station wagon with 4 ladies and a kid in the back seat, 2 more kids and a man in the trunk, and myself and the driver up front. For some reason the locals always insist I take the front. And for some reason I never seemed to hesitate about getting in a car full of locals I don't know and heading out into the highway. It dawned on me how crazy that was about half way back to Cuzco. 

Oh well, I'm back now, and it was jolly good fun. 

As for Machu Picchu, I won't say much. It was equally as great a day, but I'll let the pictures do the talking when I can post them. Till then, adios amigos!