Well, Dear Reader, every trip has at least one tough day, and today was it on this one. Things started off very well as today was an unchaperoned day at Machu Picchu. The Lady, TBJ and your Blogger headed out for a hike, originally planning to take the relatively easy trail to the Sun Gate, but making a game time decision to hike up to the top of Machu Picchu Mountain. As it turned out, this was a bit ridiculous. The trail to the top of the mountain would have been challenging on its own, but with the added weight of TBJ in a backpack it became excruciating. We made it about 2/3 of the way up until we got to a little clearing and realized that we had just made it to the hard part, then headed back down. Even that, though, as a good 2 hour hike, so we were feeling pretty good about ourselves. Since we had already checked out, we had a few hours to kill before catching the Hiram Bingham train back to Rio Sagrado, and from there a van ride to Cusco. We spent a nice few hours hanging out in Sanctuary Lodge’s botanical garden watching TBJ play in one of the absurd number of fountains in Peru, as well as a few hours in the bar attending to miscellaneous matters including jotting down this journal for your benefit, Dear Reader.
After “tea” and a scary ride down the mountain to Aguas Calientes, we boarded Orient Express’ Hiram Bingam, a luxury train carrying passengers from Cusco (landslides permitting) to Machu Picchu and back. Initially this was magnificent, as the Hiram Bingham is appointed in the Grand Old Style of 19th century luxury trains; it is truly a marvel. However, at one point in the ride TBJ was walking down the aisle when the train shoot and our boy banged his head against a table, giving him an almost immediate black eye. The Lady and I immediately went into “we’re awful parents” mode while TBJ yelled in obvious pain. Fortunately we weren’t such awful parents as to have forgotten the Children’s ibuprofen, so within 45 minutes TBJ was back in business, albeit with his first shiner. His word count is well into the doubt digits now, but I’m trying to teach him his first longer sentence: You oughta see the other kid.
The other exciting thing to occur on the train was that a case of whatever one calls the Peruvian version of Delhi Belly, maybe Incan Revenge or something, became acute. This was fine on the train due to generously appointed lavatories, but when we got in the van for the 80 minute drive to Cusco things just got ridiculous. I will not go into further detail, but let’s just say that no man has ever been happier to see a hotel than I was at 10:00 PM on March 21, 2012.
As seems to be the case on this trip, each hotel is more dramatic than the last. Our home for our two nights in Cusco is Hotel Monasterio, a unique joint in a former monastery that still sports dozens, if not hundreds, of the original oil paintings accumulated by the Monasterio and which plays Gregorian chants in the public spaces. As with Rio Sagrado, the folks at Hotel Monasterio went out of their way to accommodate us, including a crib, a bunch of toys and baby toiletries in our room, and a bottle of champagne and deserts to help us celebrate our anniversary. The deserts were excellent, but sadly the champagne went untouched as we tried to adjust again to Cusco’s 11,000 foot altitude. It’s crazy to think of Machu Picchu at 9000 feet and Rio Sagrado at 8000 feet as “low”, but compared to Cusco they are, and even a reasonable amount of acclimitization won’t keep one from getting winded from relatively little physical activity at this height. Between the altitude, the morning’s hike, and the 5-6 hours of travel, we were absolutely done and called it a night without even thinking of a free bottle of champagne. Believe me when I tell you that this speaks to our tiredness, not to the worth of the bottle.
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