This year is a time of true joy and abundance for my family. Both of my nephews were married within two days of each other, one of them had a beautiful baby girl, my oldest sister and niece both moved into a new home, my middle sister is about to pop out another kid, and my parent’s – who made it all possible – just celebrated their 40th anniversary. To commemorate the occasion they traveled back with me to Peru once weddings had wrapped. Three flights, a couple layovers, and twenty-four hours after leaving Texas we were in Cusco.
It’s position in the high Andes makes for long layovers more often than not, and requires a couple days of rest upon arriving, but that’s the price we pay to live in the two mile high city. After taking it easy and awaiting Mel’s return from the East Coast where she and a coworker were overseeing a film project in New York and D.C., we started exploring.
We began with highlights around town like Qorikancha, presumed to have been constructed as a palace for Inca royalty. When the Spanish arrived, historians noted that that the massive, perfectly constructed stone walls were covered in gold. The central yard, which is now just a patch of grass, was filled with statues wrought in pure gold, and interwoven with elaborate fountains and water channels. Sadly, as was the case throughout the whole of Central and South America, the wealth that once existed here was melted down or hoarded away.
It turns out that the approximate time period in which the sacking of the Americas occurred, papacy rule was being threatened by protestant uprisings and thus a powerful ally was sought to aid in fending off unfriendlies. Enter the collusion of Catholic Spain with the Vatican; the appointment of Spain’s Charles the Fifth as Holy Roman Emperor, and one of the greatest transfers of wealth ever recorded. All this, curiously coinciding with the establishment of the Holy Church of England, which rose up to wrest away all of the newly gained power and money. Such goes the empowerment of man. Unimaginable sums of riches flowed from the west through the hands of conquistadors, across the sea in Spanish Galleons, into the pockets of royalty, the Holy Roman Empire, and finally the Church of England; but that, I suppose, is an entirely different story.
Nonetheless, the complex, which is now a mix of conspicuously variable Incan ruins and Spanish churches, is still a beautiful and thought provoking place to experience. From there we went to one of the most impressive ruins in the area, Sacsayhuaman, which happens to sit just above our house. Here we took in stone walls constructed with polygonal megaliths of incredible scale, some measuring 15-20 ft in height.
We visited Q’enqo, another ruin just up the hill from our place which contains perplexing rock formations and cave systems that likely had ritual significance. Finally, we rode the train from Cusco to see Machu Picchu once more. The City in the Clouds was the ultimate test of my Mom’s nerves as she is deathly afraid of heights. Her reaction upon entering the first terraces which hover thousands of feet above the Urubamba River was priceless. Tears ran down her face as she exclaimed “Oh my gosh! Why? How?” in utter amazement at its enigmatic beauty and magnificence.
She held off for a bit near the top of the complex while Mel, my Dad, and I ventured around the mountain to a feature we had not yet completely explored, the Inca Bridge. To get there we traveled along a walkway chiseled out of the cliffs that was scarcely an arms width and seldom contained rails. The wood bridge at it’s end could once be drawn to stop the entrance of any unwelcome guests from a section of the carved camino that is now overgrown by vegetation and off-limits to visitors. Tracing its line around a nearby span of sheer rock face that dropped all the way down to the river gave us all chills, and had us wondering what exactly the section we were standing on looked like.
At Machu Picchu and our next stop in Ollantaytambo, my Mom valiantly faced her fears as we climbed to various ruins hanging from the sides of mountains, while my Dad literally bounded up passes with the skill and grace of a kid half my age. We could hardly keep up. Hats off to my Dad who just recently celebrated his 68th.
After checking out the massive red / pink andesite stones of Ollay, we visited Pisac, a town about an hour and a half east of Cusco where there is a large ruin, the satellites of which run for miles along an ancient Incan road. We stayed the night so that we could peruse a large artisan market the following day where my parents honed their bargaining skills, and Mel and I dreamed up plans of importing select crafts and artifacts to the States.
We found ourselves often discussing the sights in terms of stonework, a number of examples which instinctively brought to mind Egyptian ruins. To that point, prominent researchers are beginning to substantiate similarities in construction typology, art, mythology, and spiritual ideology existing between the two seemingly disparate and obviously distant cultures. Such ideas point to theories proposed by Victorian Era historians which described both as rising out of a vastly older parent civilization now lost to history. These views were shared openly until around the turn of the 20th century when a global white washing of an entire body of ancient evidence took place in coordination with the silencing through ridicule of those who stood to challenge the placement of modern man atop the evolutionary spectrum; something that continues to this day.
Back in Cusco we celebrated Fathers Day by eating ice cream with – well – everything; pancakes, sundaes, fruit, more pancakes, milkshakes, etc. It was awesome. And on one of the last days of their visit we took my parents out to celebrate their anniversary, where we maybe drank a little wine; tried the local delicacy, cuy, or guinea pig – which turned out to be sort of scant and oily; ate more ice cream; and “took it to the limit one more time” with an impromptu karaoke session.
All in all, their visit constitutes some of my favorite times here in Peru. It was so amazing to adventure with them, and inspiring to experience these places anew through their eyes. When they went back to the States I found myself sensing a mix of emotions. Of course I missed them immensely, but I was left feeling incredibly lucky and Loved.
Mom and Dad. Not a day goes by that I do not think of you; not an hour without drawing from the things you’ve shared; not a minute without feeling the Love you’ve given freely. I will be forever grateful to you for your example. From the depths of my heart; Thank you. We Love you so much!
More pics here:
We Are Nonlocal 