The Sacred Valley

I am behind already on this blog. On Sunday morning (Nov 25) we rose bright and early for a great buffet breakfast, quick hotel check out, and meet-up with out guide Hilda for our adventure to the Sacred Valley. We began with a stop at the remans of Tokampata, the first Inca palace, with a beautiful 16th century San Cristobal church and a large plaza overlooking the city of Cuzco. In the plaza were small groupings of pretty girls dressed in traditional Peruvian garb, llamas in tow, hoping we would pay them to take a picture (little did we know these would be the first of hundreds over the next couple of days). Then we walked through Sacsayhuaman, an archeological park where beautiful Inca walls have been excavated, vast open fields with terraced hills. It is our first view of the incredible stonework made by these people, huge boulders carefully carved to fit perfectly together without mortar. The ancient city of Cusco was laid out in the form of a puma, the animal that symbolized the Inca dynasty. The belly of the puma was the main plaza, the river Tullumayo formed its spine, and the hill of Sacsayhuaman its head. Wow.

Next stop - the llama project where we see and learn about the 4 different kids of llamas (all part of the camel family!) They are adorable and come right up to us to eat the long grasses we have to offer (as provided by the project). There is a new weaving project here now too, begun by the same woman who started the one in Chinchero (but that's tomorrow). It is fascinating to watch the women work the looms they have strapped around their waists. There is a 10 year old boy doing complicated patterns quite well - not as well as the older women but well enough he is getting a lot of attention in this project. There is a good bathroom here which we both makeuse of even though it entails walking through a rather large sales room FULL of woven and knitted stuff, kind of like a Macy's.

On our way to Pisaq we learn "Andes" comes from the word ANDENES which means terraced. Then we drive on to Pisaq where we walk through the ruins for more than an hour, past beautiful walls and homesteads bulit on the mountainside, even through a tunnel the Incas carved through the stone that was in their path, It is interesting how they truly worked with the land and not against it. There are ceremonial areas with huge slabs for sacrificing animals or humans - as you get closer to the temple the stonework in the walls is even more perfect, smooth and polished and perfectly joined. Even the combination of sizes, and the niches incorporated into the walls are believed to be in place to protect them in the event of an earthquake.. I love this place.

Lunch is back in town in the niddle of the Pisaq Marketplace in a nice, simple restaurant. We eat fantastic quinoa soup and sufed peppers, and even try Inka Cola (ick). After lunch there is a tedious project to find me a nice Peruvian blanket, just right and not too expensive -- the market is huge and I would be lost still today if Hilda had not caefull kept an eye on me. Thanks you Hilda! In the end I bought a *rug* and we left!

Did a quick tour of the Pakaritampu Hotel and still am not quite sure what people were complaining about - but then on to Chicha!! Our last stop today is at a little home of a woman who has 1) a big courtyard full of several of the frog - coin toss games the kid all love 2) a room full of guinea pigs running aorund (ignore the fact they are being bred for the next special feast) and 3) a tiny kitchen with many pots a boiling... the chicha. We all have a taste - hm - followed by a taste of the strawberry kind. Fun!

Our hotel - the Libertador Valle Sagrede is wonderful - lush endless gardens, rivers of water flowing through. One night is not enough here! The satelite is out so there is no internet (thus the belated blog) but it hardly matters in a place like this. Monday we head back to Cusco via Chinchero, then head to the mountians to begin the trek on Tuesday...

Peru is very Far Away....

...... as evidenced by the almost 20 hours it took to get here.

First the drive to Logan Airport (they make you so fearful you'll miss your flight if you don't go so early). There was not even a line at check in so things went pretty quickly. If it hadn't been for the 20 minutes of frisking at security (every metal grommet on my jeans was carefully inspected) I would have been at the gate before my ride (thank you Michael) got out of the airport. I met up with our Peru Guru Peter at check in - but he flew business class so our socializing was limited to airport connections. No dinner on this 7PM flight mind you - but I wisely purchased a sandwich to take on board.

It was 3.5 hours to Miami, where I connected up with Larry who had gone the day before to enjoy Thanksgiving with his family. He seemed pretty perky, but then he was on a fresh start whereas I already had 6 hours of 'travel' under my belt. Our flight to Lima left at midnight; once we were in the air the FOOD SERVICE started (who doesn't want dinner at 1am?) and the movie. American no longer serves free alcohol on international flights I guess, because a glass of wine was $5. We did manage to sleep - but with the plane landing at 530am there wasn't a lot of time for shut eye. This was the hardest connection - 3.5 hours before boarding our 1.5 hour flight to Cusco. Luckily the Lima airport has some fun shops and great coffee so we survived.

We were met by a porter in the Cusco airport (or Cuzco, there is a very long dissertation by Peter about which is correct or more popular but they are both used interchangeably even within the same paragraph) who somehow knew who we were and helped us get our bags to the street where our transfer guide Juan took over. Nice nice guy with a thick accent who does his job with joy; Juan took us to a spanking clean van where we met our driver Wilson (we are very important people!) Wilson is *also* delightful. At the hotel (a short drive) we chat and go over some maps and local info and agree on the time to meet our guide (yet another person!) tomorrow for our trip to the Sacred Valley. Now I understand all about transfer guides and assistant guides and head guides!

By noon we were settling in to our FABULOUS hotel room at the Libertador in the center of Cusco. And since the coca tea they served at check in successfully revived us we decided to strike out in the neighborhood. We strolled the little streets lined with tiny shops, which invariably lead to large open squares full of industrious children selling cloth dolls, shoe shines, and postcards. Everywhere there are churches and temples. When hunger got us we came back to the Libertador for trout (local, from Lake Titticacca which I cannot figure out how to spell) ceviche. $8 for an *enormous* plate - we each devoured our own plateful. Then we waddled out in another direction to the Plaza de Armas, just a really cool spot with lots happening and amazing views of town life surrounded by sharply rising hills dotted with adobe buildings. Wow, we are really in Peru!

One of the things happening in Plaza de Armas was a torrential downpour. All of our rain gear was back in the hotel; the children evidently dropped the postcards and suddenly appeared with piles of cheap rain ponchos - but we waited for it to clear while enjoying the shops under the covered walkway around the plaza. The search for the 'alpaca factory' almost ruined my day (WHY didn't I write down the address?!?!) because there is no such place with that name but there ARE 5,000 alpaca sweater stores none of which had what I was looking for (this is a long-story favor I promised someone thinking it would be a piece of cake) We did finally find it but now back in our room I read my notes and see she wanted BROWN when I had insisted all day (in a rather whining voice, just ask Larry) it had to be GREY....

This brings me to the effects of altitude which I would like to blame for not only the alpaca sweater fiasco (I'll be exchanging it when we're back here in a couple of days) but the fact we cannot seem to understand each others' meaning when we speak, or even make sense to ourselves. It's kind of funny but we are so tired or spacey or wired or something we can't even quite laugh. Altitude might also be responsible for my insane idea to get adventurous when searching out a bathroom on our wanderings (you really cannot stay 'hydrated' and not need a bathroom). If you dare, read on:

Rather than go into a nice looking hotel or restaurant I went right for the skeevy looking alley with a sign saying PUBLIC BATHROOM where a woman took my 50 centimos (about 15 cents), handed me a wad of toilet paper and pointed me out back to a falling down cinderblock building with several doorways. The one labeled 'hot shower' had a hose stuffed into the closed door. I went for the one other doorway that even had a door. Inside there was a squat toilet in the misdst of such squalor as I have not seen since China. I was desperate by this time though and really had no choice so in the dark managed to complete the task at hand without soaking my feet. BUT, even as I was relived and pulling up my jeans I began to hear growling. Yes indeed, right outside the door was the mangiest fiercest looking dog growling at me. I had to open the door - I was suffocating - but the dog would not let me step outside. I yelled and called for help and no one bothered to come. Finally the dog got bored and moved away and I escaped unscathed. Phew!

At 630p we were trying to figure out what to do next. It was torrential downpouring again (it better not do this on the trek). So we had ceviche again for dinner, along with a quinoa seafood salad and alpaca kebob. The hotel also offers an outstanding looking buffet, and live music in the dining room. It is beautiful here - have clients really ever complained about this place??

Tomorrow it's Hilda and the Sacred Valley. We have to get up at 630am!

Saturday August 11 - back to the usa...

It is barely Saturday when the alarm goes off at 3am. I am awake for some reason and we manage to finish packing, shower, have a bit of breakfast (we feel sorry for the poor man who had to bring it to the room at 330am). Our ride is prompt at 415am, and it is a short trip to the airport. As Mark predicted the airport is pretty shut down – all of the parking lots are closed off and so the driver has to leave us at the street. By some miracle he pulls out a luggage cart – thank goodness considering what our bags weigh. We make it over to the door only to be told we need to go to Terminal One. Pleased to have one more chance for an Urban Trek we walk back through the empty parking lot, down a long road of construction and around to the doorway for Terminal One. This is where the action is – lots of people pushing and maneuvering to get into the best position in line. As soon as it settles another counter opens and everyone in the back of the line charges to be first in the new line. The lines never moves and it just takes a long time to finally check in. We finally make it to the gate (where we can’t buy water because they won’t take USD and we have no dirhams left), then onto the plane and fast asleep in our seats.

We are currently sitting in the beloved Casablanca Airport where we have a 4 hour layover…. Guess its time for some very expensive chips...

Friday August 10 – flying solo

Steven and Sam presumably made it off at 4am; Frank, Gladys and Mallory leave for Spain at 11 so we have breakfast together (I am afraid to eat anything still) After we say goodbye and Frank has refilled my Imodium stash, Mark takes Mira, Leo and I off on an Urban Trek – we walk from the hotel to the medina to finish our shopping. Crossing the street is an interesting experience – it seems the cars and mopeds actually speed up as they approach us in the middle of the road making it a real challenge to get across. But we do, several times. First stop is the rug shop, then deeper into the souk back where we were yesterday, to finish what we started… I think about an hour is all one can take before feeling confused here! Our cab ride back – just my family of 3 since it is all a cab can hold, and Mark is walking back to his house – is an experience in itself. Mark carefully instructs us to not pay the driver anything unless he turns the timer on, and it should cost about 10 dirham. The driver refuses to turn his timer on, if fact signals to us to get out (presumably if we don’t like it) and says he wants 20 dirham for the ride. In the end I tell him to drive on; we get to the hotel and pay him 15 dirham which is all I have. I expected him to have a fit but he shrugged and drove away. Hm.

The rest of the day – hot, sunny, lunch by the pool and then a scuffle over lounge chairs with a French couple and the pool boy. After showers Mira and I go for henna tattoos, then we meet with Mark for a farewell beer. Dinner is room service! And bed is early.

Thursday August 9 – into Marrakech

Today: Overslept, had been up all night anyways as the Imodium seems to wear off about 2am. It is grey and raining; Everyone says they have never seen a rainy day in August. We have a second guide today, a Moroccan woman named Naim who speaks little English, but is very pleasant and willing to learn new words. After a ride into the medina – the old city – we begin our walk. We visit the Bahia Palace, and the burial place of kings. We stop by the Rrad – a bed and breakfast – that Naim manages for a French couple and get to see a more traditional kind of accommodation while enjoying a cup of mint tea in a dry place! We visit a community oven where families who don’t have one bring their bread for baking. Then on to the Medersa, a traditional Islam boarding school for boys, no longer used. The rooms are very small, but slept 4 in each. The tile work is beautiful in all of these places, and the doors and ceilings are magnificent cedar creations.

Lunch is Italian food – pizza even! – but I am still afraid to eat. The afternoon we explore the souks – long narrow dark alleys full of every kind of craft and item you could dream of. This is where a second guide really comes in handy because one wrong turn and we would probably never find out way back! In one spot there is a heap of twisted metal – the iron workers nest – next to a lovely arranged shop of metal lanterns. In the leather souk the smell is pretty bad; in the jewelry souk there is both junky stuff and beautiful silver. It is not always easy to tell the difference and the sincerity with which the sellers promise it is the very real thing at the very best price is astounding. A familiar chant: A small shop with a small price. There are shoes and bags and clothing and housewares and it is so overwhelming! It is easy to lose track of what you want and just become enveloped in all the possibilities. We visit a ‘pharmacy’ of spices, and a shop full of beautiful handmade djellabahs (but no one buys one!). We finally make it out to the big square where taxis zip through aimlessly and snake charmers draw crowds with their pythons and vipers. There are also monkeys, and one man with a table full of human teeth and a few examples of the dentures he could make for you. You can buy food or fresh squeezed orange juice. Sometimes there are acrobats but we don’t see any. We wind our way through and back to the van for the ride to the hotel, tired from a long and fascinating day.

A nice hotel dinner after which the adults retire, and the kids gather for a last evening’s hanging out. I hear that it didn’t break up until after 11 – and Sam had to be up at 3!

Wednesday August 8 -return to Marrakech

A miscellaneous photo....

It is probably not a good sign that I have caught on to my day / date error – now I am right on track, knowing today is Wednesday, August 8. My scrapes are healing (though something is still oozing from beneath a toe nail…) and the bright red burn on the back of my neck has now peeled off. I had to buy a new shirt in order to not wear the same thing for the zillionth time. My bag is heavier and most of it is dirty laundry (though there are some rocks too). Vacation must be winding down.

This morning we began the drive back to Marrakech, sad to say good bye to Essaouria. The ride is a combination of gazing out on other worldly landscape, and dozing off to dreamland. We make a couple of stops along the way – one a beautiful vista of Essaouira for a proper goodbye, another at a simple rest stop with clean bathrooms and cold coke (but no change – you ALWAYS need to have exact change here!). After lunch (yet another meal) we visit the Majorelle Gardens created by a 20th century French painter of the same name who came to Morocco to cure his asthma and fell in love with the place. Majorelle was the first artist to create posters to promote tourism in Morocco! The gardens were restored and renovated in the 80’s by Yves Saint Laurent who owns the property today (I think…). The gardens are beautiful but mostly full of imported plants – bamboo forests abound. The buildings are a bright deep blue, a brilliant contrast to the red required by city ordinance for all buildings in Marrakech.

Then the afternoon is whiled away by the pool, very wonderful to sit and read and doze.

Tonight is our farewell dinner – The Friedlanders have to leave at 430am to catch their plane on Friday, so we are leaving Thursday evening for a more sedate event. We drive to the medina, the old city and walk down a dark narrow alley to a renovated home, a palace if I had to name it – a gorgeous courtyard and stairs up to a terrace with tables and wonderful lighting – then up again to the rooftop where we drink the local cocktail – something with crème de menthe and a Moroccan alcohol that tastes of anise (I’m sure the equivalent to Rake and Ouzo but sorry I can’t remember the name) and some kind of juice – it was pretty interesting!! There was a musician who Mark has known for years – oh, Mark knows everyone - a man named Brahim who plays a hajouj, a four stringed instrument. With him was a man playing indescribable percussion. They played fantastic jazz! Brahim is on a Led Zeppelin album and has been around for awhile – and now he is with us on this cool beautiful night for our farewell dinner.

At the end of the set we go down a flight to the dining area and lots and lots of little tapas style dishes come out as the first course. Vegetables and little meat turnovers and pickled things and liver and even brains (Leo ate some) and olives and most everything yummy. This is when we went around the table and each person said what their favorite and least favorite part of the adventure was. Almost everyone loved the camp the best (or finally arriving there!) – the least favorite ranged from the 30 minutes prior to getting to camp to the hike up the hill to the Kasbah which was longer than anticipated. It is always interesting to hear where we struggled and where we rejoiced.

Next course – Pigeon in crepes, received with a slightly more solemn approach but almost everyone ate it! Then a lamb tajine and couscous with roasted vegetables, so delicious. Moroccan wine was being poured freely and was quite tasty. Dessert was a variety of cookies and mint tea – and then the belly dancer came out. She was quite entertaining – at the end of her performance Leo said “uh, can I change what my favorite part of the trip was?” which made everyone laugh.

This was a very good day, and a terrific farewell dinner – except I can see the sad places where we think about saying good bye. Everyone is talking about where we might go next summer, or how we might go hike the Smokies with Steven and Sam, or how Mallory will be in Boston to visit colleges… all the ways the goodbye can be shortened.

This was a very good day.

Monday Aug 6 – Essaouira

Note my shirt for which I must apologize... Leo found it in his bag and doesn't know where it came form. Anyone claim it?

This Sofitel by far has the best beds of any we’ve slept in (we all agree). Each one is an oversized twin but not quite a double and made up with a luxurious duvet, thick but light and with a crisp white cover. The staff is unendingly friendly and always agreeable even if they don’t have a clue what you’re saying, and the pool is not too cold – though the wind this afternoon could have knocked your socks off. In hopes of blocking ourselves off from the wind we moved from the pool area up a flight of stairs to the upper deck which has a low wall around it making it more protected, and hammocks as well as lounge chairs for curling up in. I can feel my muscles getting softer by the minute.

Wandering through town this morning in search of Thuia wood trinkets was a blast but I would have been helplessly lost had others not had some better sense of direction. Even though Mark says the city is laid out in a grid I could not at all follow where we were in relation to anything else. But we found all of the places we wanted to revisit from yesterday and found some new good spots too. There were lots of women offering henna tattoos, but we never seemed ready to stop and sit for one. Excellent people watching - especially as it got to be lunch time there were thousands of people milling about. Surprisingly, Mark – who is enjoying a day off – found us in the masses before drifting off to find himself some food.

Dinner last night was in an open air oceanside restaurant where most of us ate the catch of the day – something Mark called ‘Saint Pierre’ and seemed surprised we didn’t know it. Tonight we eat at the hotel and then – alas – pack up to leave in the morning for Marrakech.