Cusco & Machu Picchu | Budget Bucket List

Cusco / Machu Picchu

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People told me Cusco is the most touristy place they ever visited, so I decided to skip it. But then I found out it's the gateway to the Machu Picchu… and skipping that is like going to India and ignoring the Taj Mahal.

So there I sat, in the bus from Puno to Cusco that was supposed to take only seven hours. In theory yes, but we run into a road block of angry people throwing stones at the vehicle and eventually even setting the road on fire. Great: the airco had broken down too and the 33 degrees outside made the bus feel like a microwave in the desert. My shirt was completely soaked, and then I realized I would probably soak my pants soon too as the on-board toilet I paid extra for was off course out of order. Oh no wait, I didn’t even have enough water for this undetermined amount of extra time, so maybe I would dry out from thirst instead.

Being uncomfortable is part of the charm of travelling though, so when the road was cleared after three full hours I smiled about this funny experience that made up another special story. After a drive through a landscape that looked like a Red Hot Chili Peppers videoclip, I finally arrived at my destination. Enfin.

I checked in at the Pariwana hostel: a true backpacker oasis which was recommended to me by many other youngsters along the way. Although I must admit, after Bolivia every place that offers the luxury of a warm shower gets my approval.

I walked off the tourist strip and found a street with many local restaurants with 3-course set meals under a euro, and subsequently had dinner next to a woman with two babies hanging out of her back-scarf.

My first day in Cusco I traditionally started with a free (tip-based) walking tour, which is a real hype in South American cities. I learned a lot: Did you know that in 1532 the Spanish arrived and then mixed the Inca religion with Christianity? (... which in reality can be translated as: “destroyed the Inca religion, murdered and raped everyone, all under the flag of Christianity.”)

... And that Peruvians love eating lama and guinea pig so much that on ‘The Last Supper’ painting in their Cathedral you can even see Jesus scoffing a guinea pig?

Or that Cusco is built in the shape of a puma, because in the Inca world the past is symbolized as a snake, the present as a puma and the future as a condor? Me neither.

After we admired the city panorama from the San Cristobal plaza we took a bus to the Inca ruins of Sacsayhuaman (pronounced as ‘sexy woman’). We attended a commercialized lama wool weaving presentation, followed by a demonstration of local music instruments made of shells and lama toe nails.

Yup, lama overload.

The day ended with a refreshing Pisco Sour, the national drink of both Peru and Chile. 1-0 for Peru in this case, if I may play the jury.

After one day I felt I really saw Cusco, as although it’s pretty… the vibe is quite pushy. If you've ever been to Turkey, Tunisia, Dubai or Morocco you know how touristy souks feel like:

Obtrusive vendors aggressively trying to sell you stuff by putting bracelets around your wrist, slamming menu’s in your face or interrupting all your conversations by loudly offering taxi’s or massages.

Seriously, if I want any of your services I will come to you myself, F*** off.

Also, my bag was opened three times by pick-pockets. Even though a padlock protects my valuables and the only thing they can steal from my front pocket is a note saying “NOPE, hijo de puta”, it gives an impression of the city. Too bad: I had to spend two extra days here as the 4-day jungle trek to Machu Picchu I booked started on a Monday.

Well, then I might as well attend a cooking class, because the Peruvian kitchen is quite yummy. As the 100 soles were far above my budget, I decided to improvise and print a recipe from the internet and get my own fresh ingredients from the San Pedro market. But it appeared to be my lucky day, as I happened to eat breakfast with Canadian birthday-boy Josh who just arranged Peruvian chef Bryan to cook traditional ceviche (fish) for him.

Hm, I shouldn’t have done that. Here I learned why I should have gone vegan years ago. Everyone has been warning me about the Latin American street food I’ve been eating for months now. I was totally fine. Up until now, until I ate food prepared by a chef. Let’s put it this way: Throwing up in the sink while seated on the toilet is an art in itself. The extra day in Cusco was therefore received with gratefulness after all, as I didn’t feel much for hanging my naked private parts above the leeches in the Peruvian jungle.

After some thunder-shots of loperamide I hopped on the jungle-jeep for an ear-popping ride through a breathtaking valley. Instead of the classic Inca Trail I had decided to take the adventurous Adrenaline Jungle Trek through full of adventure sports... I’m sure the Inca’s would’ve done the same if they had the choice. On the top of the mountain some mountain bikes were handed to me and the tour group I was temporarily a part of*... ready for an incredible ride through the mountainous environment. I couldn’t slap the constant grin of my face when I saw my awesome German, Scottish, Australian and Dutch group members racing through the rivers and splashing mud.

* YUK tour groups! Correct, but in the case of Machu Picchu you’re simply cheaper off by booking an organized trip. Reservations and entrances have to be bought far in advance and are bought in bulk by travel agencies. If you decide to book it all by yourself you’ll have to pay single last-minute prices, which works out to be almost double the price. Forget it, you’ll be surrounded by tourists here anyway, no way to avoid them.

More adrenaline was awaiting us, as after lunch we jumped into our rubber boats for some good old dose of rafting. Even though this was my third time already, I still suck at rowing. Luckily I was in the chick-boat and none of us ladies knew how to hold a paddle, so our desperate guide did all the hard work while his hair slowly turned grey. I had so much fun that my laugh sounded like hysterical screams at some point.

You know who had fun as well? The thick swarms of mosquitoes covering every piece of bare skin they could find. My legs looked black because of the layer of those damned bloodsuckers feeding on me. 50% deet didn’t make any difference. “You know where you are, in the jungle baby”, I heard my old pal Axl scream in the back of my head.

No adventure sports were programmed the second day, we were about to hike the cocaine-smuggle-route through the jungle. As I spent the night scratching my itching skin off, I put on my high socks and long pants to protect me from the winged assholes that attacked me yesterday. As you could read in my previous blogs, I love to hike. However, it’s pretty hard work in the intense heat and humidity of a rain forest. Our guide Cesar fixed this problem by stopping every 20 minutes and taking even longer breaks than the time we spent walking. I am more the ‘shut-up-and-walk’ kind of girl though, I rather turn my brain off and rush straight to the end.

The high quantity of siestas made me almost fall asleep in the bucket-cable-car that dragged us over the river in order to reach Santa Teresa, where relaxing hot springs warmly welcomed us.

That evening, the moment my bed caught my eye I passed out straight away.

In the early morning my alarm drilled me out of bed for a zip lining adventure. Tied up belly-down to float above sickening deep cliffs is as close as you can get to flying. However, the ‘superman-position’ wasn’t really beneficial for my growling stomach. You know, I just started my ayahuasca diet, which basically means: No meat, no salt, no dairy, no sugar, no alcohol, no coffee and no sex. Everything that makes life interesting basically. And if you travel with an organized tour, they basically just throw all the food away that you can’t eat, so only dry saltless bread is left. Yum.

After conquering the cliffs we walked all the way down the boring train tracks to Aguas Calientes. Hm, did I say Cusco is a tourist trap? Check out Aguas Calientes, a terrible overpriced dump pumped out of the ground for Machu Picchu tourism. Kill me now.

Fourth day, alarm 4AM: Machu Picchu, at last.

Because I didn’t want to be that fat lazy tourist that takes a bloody bus to this world wonder, I insisted on proudly climbing every step of the never-ending stairs to the Inca city. Every... single... step. 1,5 hours without breaks. Steeply up. After about 10 steps I heard a loud thunder and hell broke loose. It started pouring down with the density of 20 buckets per square centimetre, and only when I reached the last step looking like a spit out mermaid it miraculously stopped. Every body part outside of my condom-poncho was soaked, everything under it wet with sweat.

At 6AM (opening time) we could get in to make some pictures before all other tourists would invade this Machu Picchu Disneyland… that’s what all other tourists thought.

It didn’t matter, as we couldn’t see any Machu nor Picchu in the thick clouds. Come on, we didn’t deserve this.

The clouds, hanging around the ruins did give it a beautiful mystical vibe though. Luckily, after a few hours of shivering it cleared up and we could dry our socks in the sun while watching the Machu Picchu slowly reveal itself. There you go, we got out postcard-pictures after all. And an experience of a lifetime.

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