After the worst (22 hour!) bus ride of my life, I have finally arrived in Cuzco. Apparently, it doesnt matter how nice the bus is, this route is a nightmare. As it turns out, the twists, turns, and high altitude of the Andes (we´re at about 12,000 feet) dont bode well with my stomach, which led to me spending much of the 22 hour bus ride puking my brains out from altitude sickness. Welcome to Cuzco.
Anyways, after that grueling ride, I was greeted by Jeanne, Katie and Cory. We spent the rest of the day chatting and catching up-- for the past week and a half they had been in Arequipa and did a 3 day hike in the Colca Canyon- the second deepest canyon in the world. We were all wiped from our bus rides and ended up in bed sleeping by 7:30pm.
Cuzco is breathtakingly beautiful. There is definately something about this place which strangely makes you feel nostalgic for a place you have never known. The cobblestone winding streets, the incan stone walls hundreds of years old carved so mathematically perfect, with no plaster and scarcely room for a hair to fit in between, which one can harly imagine how it was made without modern technology. The crumbling exposed plaster of the buildings add character and charm while the rooftops of the city is a canopy of spanish tiles. I feel like I am living in a painting- its just so idyllic and beautiful. Many times, you walk down a cobblestone alley and take in the fact that in terms of appearance, not much has changed in 500 years.
Yesterday we went wandering around the city, and decided to take advantage of the fact that it was sunday and go and see the churches in town for free. We went to two masses, and long story short, we may or may not have crashed a funeral. There was no casket, but there were an awful lot of people in black hugging and kissing and the homily and mass was devoted to some woman. Yikes.
I´ve been thinking quite a bit about poverty lately. It´s hard not to with all the beggars and street children/families, many of whom are indigenous and forced to make a living by begging, peddling trinkets, or other informal market activities. One thing that struck me most was two young indigenous girls walking llamas down the road in their colorful outfits asking tourists if they would like to to take their picture. It felt strange, almost wrong on some level, that these people were in a sense forced to sell out their culture for tourists in order to make a living. Why is it that some people in this world are destined to a life of selling sunglasses on a street corner in Cuzco, while here I am, a college graduate, able to travel the world, and knowing full well that there will most likely be some job back home that will afford me to live in some degree of comfort? I truly believe that it is the responsiblity of those who are born into priveledged circumstances to give back and help those who are in less fortunate circumstances than they.
Anyways, after that grueling ride, I was greeted by Jeanne, Katie and Cory. We spent the rest of the day chatting and catching up-- for the past week and a half they had been in Arequipa and did a 3 day hike in the Colca Canyon- the second deepest canyon in the world. We were all wiped from our bus rides and ended up in bed sleeping by 7:30pm.
Cuzco is breathtakingly beautiful. There is definately something about this place which strangely makes you feel nostalgic for a place you have never known. The cobblestone winding streets, the incan stone walls hundreds of years old carved so mathematically perfect, with no plaster and scarcely room for a hair to fit in between, which one can harly imagine how it was made without modern technology. The crumbling exposed plaster of the buildings add character and charm while the rooftops of the city is a canopy of spanish tiles. I feel like I am living in a painting- its just so idyllic and beautiful. Many times, you walk down a cobblestone alley and take in the fact that in terms of appearance, not much has changed in 500 years.
Yesterday we went wandering around the city, and decided to take advantage of the fact that it was sunday and go and see the churches in town for free. We went to two masses, and long story short, we may or may not have crashed a funeral. There was no casket, but there were an awful lot of people in black hugging and kissing and the homily and mass was devoted to some woman. Yikes.
I´ve been thinking quite a bit about poverty lately. It´s hard not to with all the beggars and street children/families, many of whom are indigenous and forced to make a living by begging, peddling trinkets, or other informal market activities. One thing that struck me most was two young indigenous girls walking llamas down the road in their colorful outfits asking tourists if they would like to to take their picture. It felt strange, almost wrong on some level, that these people were in a sense forced to sell out their culture for tourists in order to make a living. Why is it that some people in this world are destined to a life of selling sunglasses on a street corner in Cuzco, while here I am, a college graduate, able to travel the world, and knowing full well that there will most likely be some job back home that will afford me to live in some degree of comfort? I truly believe that it is the responsiblity of those who are born into priveledged circumstances to give back and help those who are in less fortunate circumstances than they.
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