Pisac - Day 2

Immediately after descending the escarpment, we crossed a river, entered the small town of Pisac, drove a few blocks in cobble-stoned alleyways as wide as the car (bumpety-bumpety-bumpety-ahhh!-watch-the-cart-bumpety-bumpety-ahh!-watch-the-pedestrian-bumpetry-bumpety-screech) and then were in the central square in front of our hotel. We exited the taxi into a cacophony of sound and colour and movement – it was market day in the square. I felt stunned, unable to take it all in.



We hurried into the hotel and it was an oasis of calm and quiet-lots of greenery, clean, airy… The walls were all painted and decorated in the typical muted tones of orange, sienna and brown that are predominant in Peru. We lowered our backpacks to the ground and collapsed onto chairs. I think we weren’t exactly the wall ornaments they wanted to have on display for customers, because they quickly roused us and escorted us to a private lounge. We entered a narrow, long courtyard with rustic wooden chairs and tables placed here and there, and bougainvilleas and passion fruit vines crawling up the walls and along the wooden pagoda shading the courtyard. From this area opened the lounge – a cozy, warm room with stuffed chairs, a chess board, a TV and a computer. The staff brought us coco tea – good for fighting altitude sickness according to local people. By this time, I was a little nauseated and had a headache –whether from altitude or exhaustion I know not-so was pleased to sit and drink some tea. I looked up our bank contact information on the computer while my son tried to work the TV. Since we have no TV in Antigua, he was very excited to see a TV and desperately wanted to watch something. No luck. So he played a game of chess with E.J. instead. He was fascinated by the chess set – a lovely, carved set facing the Spaniards against the Incas. After an hour, the receptionist led us up to our rooms – one double (matrimonial) and one with 2 single beds (double). Boo and I would sleep together while the 2 boys opted for the single beds (“I’m not sleeping in the same bed as Daddy!”). It was very cold and the bed looked very inviting. However, it was only 11 am, so we left the hotel to explore the market.



There were, of course, bus loads of tourists – almost more gringos than Peruvians. But that is why there was a huge market – to cater to the tourists. As you walked by, all the vendors called to you (in my case, “Senorita”) and encouraged you to enter their stalls. The stalls lined the plaza in rows, and spread out in all directions down each little side street off the plaza. They were made of wooden or metal frames with a tarpaulin or canvas covering it on 3 sides and the roof. Merchandise hung from every surface and spread out on material-covered boxes spilling out of each stall. There were hats, scarves, belts, ponchos, sweaters, blankets and mittens knitted in a riot of colours. There were masks, stone figures, musical instruments, dolls, chess sets and display plates. There were paintings, drawings, knickknacks, tapestries and wall hangings. The vendors were mostly dressed in traditional costume – bright shirts and skirts woven and embroidered for the women, or similarly decorated ponchos for the men – and had their children in similar dress. After Antigua, we were amazed by the artwork; it was lovely to see such life-like, varied and well, good, paintings and drawings. We did end up buying one wall hanging – not a big one, but colourful, and a good example of its kind.



After a while, we were tired and hungry, so we went into a neat-looking bakery next to our hotel. While there were chairs and tables inside, the huge, round, clay oven dominated the courtyard. The owner’s brother explained that it had been there for hundreds of years. To the left of the oven was an elaborately-designed guinea pig enclosure. It looked like the pigs were scurrying about in a little mud-walled town. Scooter & Boo loved them and watched their antics while we sat down at one of the tables. We didn’t have the heart to tell them one of those cute little rodents was lunch. In the end though, we didn’t eat a guinea pig, but had fresh meat and cheese pies instead. E.J. ordered a full meal, and it turned out to be huge. So I left with the children in order to rescue the restaurant from the pent-up energy of our children. We wandered up a side of the market we had missed and discovered the fresh produce. The guide book warned us not to buy vegetables that you couldn’t peel, and never to eat a salad unless you knew it had been washed in bottled water or iodine: the tap water contains all sorts of parasites and is not potable. I felt quite daunted by the warning, so didn’t buy anything, though the papaya, corn, oranges and apples all looked very tempting.



Nearby was a shop filled with musical instruments. The young man inside played the harp for us and told us a little about the various traditional pipes and guitars. All of them were made by his father. He showed Scooter how to play one of the traditional flutes, how to place his fingers on the harp, and how to blow on a conch shell. It was a delightful, if unexpected experience. However, Boo also wanted to “play” the instruments, and I had to chase her around the various displays in the little store, removing ceramic and other fragile-looking instruments from her clutches. So Scooter and I chose a small bird instrument that makes a sweet chirping whistle when filled with water and blown, watched the store while the young man ran off to find change, thanked him, and then left to find E.J.



At 3 pm, we arranged for a taxi to take us out of town and up into the hills above the village to visit the Pisac Inca ruins. We had to purchase a ticket that would allow us entry into all the ruins in the area, as well as various attractions in Cusco. Boo was asleep on my lap in the back of the taxi, otherwise I would have gone to buy the tickets – E.J. speaks even less Spanish than do I. When he ran in to the ticket office to buy them, he discovered by pantomime that one has to pay in Soles, cash. We didn’t have nearly enough. So he trotted across the road to a little corner store whose owner had a money exchange business on the side. Given her location in the middle of no-where, she could charge whatever rate she wanted (not good for us). By this time, the taxi driver decided this was going to take a while, and switched off the engine. Sure enough, E.J. trotted back across the road to the ticket office, only to discover he still didn’t have enough money. Back to the money changer. It was a little like watching a tennis match. It was 4 pm before we were on our way again, having spent twice as much money for the tickets as recorded in the guide book.



The ruins are built on several levels, each a little lower and closer to Pisac. So we started at the top and walked down through each level. What struck us immediately were the rock terraces stepping down the hillsides in curved lines. There were so many and they covered entire hillsides. And most of them were still intact. Of course, that could partly be due to the repair work of the Peruvian govt… Still, the Inca stone work is incredible. The top-most level had a fine example of a temple, according to the guide book, but it was closed due to vandalism. Lower levels had more mundane buildings, but they were our first Inca ruins, so we were duly impressed by the big stone cubes fitted together with such precision that no mortar shows. Beyond this, though, location is crucial, and very evident as we strolled through each successive level – built among soaring mountains, the ruins clung to steep mountain sides. The view was great, but one could not help considering what it took to build these towns and temples in such inaccessible places before they had horses or wheels.



Boo was tired and refused to walk. She just sat on the path and cried. UNTIL we waved the trail mix (with m&ms) under her nose. That made her stand up and open her mouth! So we walked together, hand in hand, I admiring the views and enjoying the ruins, Boo alternating between walking/munching and stopping/opening her mouth for more trail mix. Eventually, the system failed, because we had to speed up to catch the last of the light. We were at the end of the ruins, but still had to take the 30-minute trail (30-minute if you don’t have an obdurate 3-year old) down to Pisac. The trail switch-backed down to a stream, and then gradually descended to the outskirts of Pisac. E.J. carried Boo half-way down the switch-backs, but then slipped on some scree and banged his knee trying to keep her from falling too. After that, he couldn’t carry her, so she either walked or I carried her. Scooter was a trooper and did the whole descent very well. In fact, we had to keep reminding him to stay in sight and be careful where he put his feet so he didn’t slip on a rock and sprain his ankle. The last 15 minutes, we could see the lights of the village below us and maybe a few metres of the trail in front of us. It was such a relief to see the “Welcome to Pisac” sign and feel cobblestones under our feet.