This. This was a trip I’ll never forget. I love all of my travels, from the food to the people to the places. But it was here that I not only pushed the limits of what I had done and had known, but also found pride in the grit and glamor of the traveler I’ve become. One of my most valued accolades is becoming a well-traveled adventurer. Cusco and the Salcantay Trail is where I saw how I can become one.
Cusco is a massive city. Its identity is hard to describe, and especially to anyone headed to the trails or ruins, very easy to miss. The tourist package is pretty contained; the market hawks their goods, the square is filled with buskers, the restaurants have English menus. Lots of travel advisors. All within a few miles’ radius of the square.
These are generally worthwhile experiences! Cusco is touristy, yes, but most locals strive hard to make an approachable but authentic experience. They own their businesses and take pride in their space and work. I would highly suggest popping into any interesting looking storefront, if only to browse and share a few “Bueno Dias” with the shop-keeps.
But beyond the dogs [generally cared for and friendly if mangy], the music [lively and everywhere], and the other tourists [Backpackers to retirees to families]; there’s also a city. The locals love their town, they are willing to share their culture and exchange pleasantries, intrigued to know about your home and your family. I met an old man, my first day, at Christo Blanco, a 30min hike above the city. He spoke little English but we chatted about where I came from, his and my families, and the weather. He was kind and friendly; a welcoming foreshadow of the hospitality that I would see here.
Cusco’s food is fantastically varied. From pizza [not New York standard, but reasonably good!] to alpaca steaks [delicious, tender. Like beef but with a depth, kind of liver-y.] to street churros [best I’ve ever had, hands down.], there was no shortage of great eats. Stick to these travel guidelines for restaurants abroad; no pictures of the food [drawings are great tho], not empty [plus for having locals], and for god-sakes do not enter a Starbucks. [First, McDs and KFC abroad are much better experiences and second, drink the local coffee].
Couple of highlights! Guinea pig was pretty good, if a novelty. The skin is tough, and there’s a lot of it. The bones are small and finnicky. The meat is sweet and dark, much like rabbit. It was spiced very well when we ordered it. I would gladly split it again.
I had without a doubt the best burger I’ve ever had. Los Perros served burgers that were 10-11 inches in diameter. The buns were airy, light, flaky, the crust great against the soak. The patty was a spiced beef, juicy and delicious. Cheese, local tomatoes, mango chutney, spicy mayo made for one of the most pleasurably eating experiences I’ve ever had. The fried wontons are amazing, as were any of the sandwiches. Drinks as well. I would trust anything on that menu to be outstanding. Decor was great too. Highly suggest.
Also, I had the best Kalua I’ve ever had. Miles from Cusco, two days into the mountain trail, we stop at a coffeeshop in a tiny village nestled among coffee trees [I sampled some berries. Sweet and slimy]. gentlemen give us samples of their homebrewed kalua; sweet, coffee-y, delicious. It was so good, we quickly had 2 or 3 more. Then some strong-ass coffee, sweetened by local honey, which was so light and floral, I had three heaping spoonfuls of that.
But mostly, my favorite way to eat in a new place is through the peasant food. Breakfast in the main market of Cusco was fresh eggs on rice and veggies, with delicious spicy salsa. Root veggies and meat broths were everywhere; cheap, filling, filled with new tubers I had never eaten before. Roasted chicken is quite the city favorite. We had an outstanding whole bird surrounded by locals, it was fantastic. Street food such as waffle dogs, a chicken-and-fries sandwich, churros, corn-and-queso [!!] cost only a few soles and were amazing. I drank lots of their teas, which is free everywhere they expect guests.
The people are friendly as to be confounding. Locals would kindly give directions, chitchat, help in whatever way they could, as long as you were polite. A Cumo Estas?, Buenos Diaz, Hola, and a smile would get you anywhere. A quick story. My “last” night in Cusco, we’re all beat from the hiking and travel, so my friends call it an early night. I take a lone walk, just to have a toke in the city. I end up borrowing a lighter from two locals drinking, and we end up sharing the weed and the beer, chatting for hours. They take me out to a popular club in the back of a hostel. We share contact information, they walk me home, and I think I’ve had the best last night ever.
Fast forward twelve hours and my flight [only mine, my mates take a different one home] is cancelled. I get put up in a nice hotel, free dinner and breakfast, and I text the friends from last night. I’m answered immediately, and end up drinking hot pisco tea, playing UNO, darts, drinking games, and swapping music, for 4 hours with 8 locals my age, in the café owned by one of their families.
Five days earlier we arrive to Mollepata, two hours from the start of the Salcantay trail. Not 500m in, and a bus pulls up. Next thing we know, we’re invited aboard a bus filled with college students studying tourism headed to a hot spring in the mountains. They share their mojitos. We take photos. There’s a parody singalong. The bus gets stuck on a turn; a road carved into the mountain side; itself being carved by a stream of water that goes on to fall hundreds of feet into Peruvian jungle. We have to get out. Then Pat, TJ, I, some students and their professor use rocks and a scavenged lumber plank to buttress the bus as it lumbers over the break. Then we cheer, pile back aboard, and drive on. It is not an exaggeration to say we saved an entire bus of students in Peru.
The trek itself is arduous. I’ve never been father from sea-level, except in a plane. We spend our first night at 16,000 feet, forced into camping from lightening, wind, and rain; shivering under one tarp through 5 hours of storm. It hails in the night, and flashes of light illuminate the entire valley below us in the downpour. It is horrible. My worst night of sleep in my entire life. But the morning brings the sun and we make our own breakfast above riverbeds and below snowcapped mountain peaks. And it only goes up from there.
Well. Down first. Into the jungle valley, following the Urubamba River, spending our second night next to it, in a tiny clearing where two or three families live. Then thru a coffee village, to a summit overlooking the back of Machu Picchu, where we spend our third night watching stars and distant lightning storms held back by great mountain ranges. Then down it’s other face to Machu Pichu Town, the large-ish town below the temple. It is on our 6th day since Mollepata, through 44 miles of trail and 6 miles of elevation, that we take a bus to the 6th Wonder of the World.
Importantly, our tickets are for the morning trip, as it is less crowded [very important] and less likely to see rain. We scale up to the watchman’s peak, another 2 hours hike up, to have a 360 view that is simply indescribable, and 100% worth the hike. There’re apparently a few peaks around the temple, and all of them are worth it, but we only could make one. [I also saw the Inca bridge, lovely. Possibly the least impressive, but that’s still high praise.] Worth every second. It’s a mind-blowing structure.
Kids! Kids are everywhere, rambunctious as anything, 11,000 ft in the air. They are afforded a great sense of freedom and responsibility they that handle very admirably. 5-year-olds pushing tiny grocery carts filled with the family’s groceries. Kids walking to school by themselves, through a mountain pass. Children playing in places of business, quietly and in the corner. Young’uns running around the city unsupervised. Always smiling, always chatting, always adorable.
It speaks to the strength of their family bonds, and how those kids become responsible, caring adults. They’re sociable and friendly over a wide range of scenarios.
I really can’t speak enough of how much I was impressed and excited by their cultural strength and openness. I look forward to joining the next time someone wants to go to Machu Picchu. I would be interested to see how the guided tours go, in small groups, with expert tour guides. I will eat with gusto. I will also see Lima again. I’m definitely going to get to know the locals better. It’ll be as fantastic as it was this time.