Treasure

After a memorable trip to Machu Picchu, we made our way back to the train. We took our seats and sparked a conversation with a young couple sitting next to us. It turned out that the guy was Brazilian and his wife was French. I cannot say that I have ever met so many Portuguese speakers outside of Portugal. With the language seems to come the kindest culture that we have ever encountered. When we reached their stop we exchanged information and found ourselves to be the only ones left in the train car (though we found out later there were a few others in the adjoining car). We relished the sunset until dark.
     It was not too long before the train slowed to its destination: the back door/private station owned by the hotel that we had booked. Even before we made it to the front door of Tambo del Inka, I got the feeling that we were way out of our league. One of our fellow train passengers made this awkwardly clear when she remarked "you took the bus and you're staying at Tambo?!" Truly, the only way we managed to get a room in the place was through a year and a half worth of Starwood points by paying off my credit card. We found that Brad Pitt's Peruvian hotel of choice costs around $550.00 a night for the smallest room. And yet, a little free (+$60) of luxury dwellings for three nights blessed us beyond the material. We finally slowed down enough to take stock of pretty much everything: the past year, the upcoming year, where we are at spiritually, how we want to spend money, and even where God might be tugging us sometime in the future.
      I will let the pictures say more about the hotel, but let me just say that the cost of the first breakfast was enough to propel us into the town of Urubamba. There, we found the reasonable cuisine we sought. We also found our hearts convicted and stirred by a still small voice. It is not without cringing that I confess how accustomed we had become to shrugging off street kids (and adults) who peddle goods. A terse "no gracias" mixed with indirect eye contact usually takes care of it. We were sitting in a pizza place waiting for a pizza that we ultimately could not finish. A boy came in rather quickly- and I am pretty sure that I said "no gracias" before he even finished the word "galletas- (cookies)". He did not persist, but with feelings hurt turned for the door. To make it worse, we both noticed that the boy had one arm.
    To be honest, we have worked with the materially poor long enough to know that we cannot feed and clothe everyone. We have been used more times than we can count for listening a little too long. And yet, I could sense that God was telling me that perhaps we can listen too little as well. I would like to say that my prayer was answered: that we found the boy not long after, bought his cookies, and gave him prayer and the rest of our pizza...but that did not happen. What did happen, however, was a fresh transformation of heart. I can honestly say that in repentance we have become more desirous of what God is doing on the earth. Ultimately, Jesus wins and will return to bring his Kingdom to earth as it is in heaven. That invasion begins ever so gradually with each transformed/redeemed heart.  When it's finally over, children will not have to walk the streets to make ends meet. Until then, we have to become more like Christ.
     The hotel was relaxing and really beyond compare. The quiet time was the real treasure though. The amazing concierge service arranged a taxi for the return to Cusco AND two last sites along the way: the Salineras salt mines and the ruins of Moray. While both were rivaled only by Machu Picchu itself, I think that we were more amazed at the unique beauty of the salt mine. Who would have guessed that this ongoing extraction site (for more than 400 years) would hold our attention for so long? Interestingly, Moray was neither a fort nor a religious shrine, but rather an Inca agricultural research station. Each level allowed for incremental micro climates. Quite impressive.

     

Mighty Architecture

     We slept like babies after our restless night on the bus. We woke up in Cusco to a beautiful medley of both pre-colombian and colonial architecture. In the middle of Semana Santa (Holy Week), the central plaza (which we could see out of our apartment window) was in constant motion with parades and processions. One moment we saw soldiers in their dress uniforms and at other times there were Inca women dancing in traditional garb. It will continue this way for the rest of the month.
     The first day we hit up three museums: the convent of Santa Catalina, the Dominican monastary/Qoricancha, and the museum of pre-Colombian art. Each impressed and saddened us in varying ways. As always, history both enchanted and disturbed me. We saw many paintings and read many stories of conversions, some forced and some not. We also learned that many conversions remained incomplete, producing a syncretic religious landscape that mixed Christianity and pre-Colombian beliefs.  I know too well the evil deeds done in the Americas in the name of God. I also know that the Living God has transformed his share of souls regardless of the intentions of men. He will always claim his share.
    It only took a day of museum hopping for it to grow old. So, on Monday we decided that it was time to see some ruins. We bought two comprehensive "tourist tickets" that granted access to most regional Inca sites excluding Machu Picchu. After scheduling a tour, we hopped on a bus and saw four ruin sites until dark. We learned that the Inca had designed Cusco both aesthetically and strategically. The city was planned to resemble a jaguar, with the "head" serving as the primary defense garrison. This site, Sacsayhuaman, stood out primarily because of the stone arrangements. The scale of the stone walls (without mortar) rivaled architecture in the European middle ages.
     Ruins are impressive, but living people are far more fascinating. Much of this blog will be devoted to interactions that we have. While touring the sites near the city, we met a couple from Connecticut with whom we shared some stories. We also met an Italian ski-instructor/surfer on the tour. We connected with him very easily, as well. These were the first significant interactions on the trip outside of family.
    The next day was the big one: Machu Picchu. The only way to get there is by either train or foot (via the Inca trail). We chose the train. The ride was unbelievably beautiful. It looked like the Swiss Alps, but with llamas.  We passed trout-filled rivers, steep snow-capped peaks, and green gorges. We sat at a table with a couple from Barcelona. We enjoyed the ride with them and shared very pleasant conversation.
    When the train stopped at Aguas Calientes, the town beneath Machu Picchu, we worked through the various gates and ticket booths before boarding the bus to the top. Like many, I first saw Machu Picchu in schoolbooks. The site is truly beyond description. Never discovered by the Spanish, the Inca citadel is an unspoiled masterpiece of stone architecture and stunning green terraces. We were very excited to go on our guided tour with a couple from Brazil. Communicating in bits of Spanish and Portuguese, we walked the ruins and laughed at encounters with llamas. We were very blessed by the ease of making friends up to this point, and were reminded of why we love to travel so much.  (p.s., the dog in the picture is called a Peruvian Inca Orchid, a rare breed outside of Peru and once used as a footwarmer by the Inca.) 

 

Big Sculptures and Long Nights

      This will be the first of several posts relating to our week long adventure in the Valle Sagrado (The Inca Sacred Valley). For packing purposes, I had to leave the laptop in Lima. For the most part, this leg of the trip was intended to provide rest and relaxation from a long year. We spent three days in the city of Cusco, a day traveling to Machu Picchu, and three days at a hotel in the town called Urubamba. For better or for worse, we decided to save money and travel to Cusco by bus. Though it was a nice bus, the trip to Cusco was supposed to last for twenty hours through mountainous terrain and ever increasing altitude. The Inca have a term called "sorroche,"which can basically be translated as "altitude sickness." This kicked in about around hour 10 of what turned into a 24 hour bus trip. The local tea called "mate de coca" had us both on our feet pretty quickly. It basically tastes like green tea, and really does help with the altitude issues.
     Even before we got out of Lima on the bus trip, several things caught my attention. The capital city, Lima, has over 9.5 million people. To me, that was just a number until I saw the near endless "pueblos nuevos"(squatter villages) on the way out of the city. I measured their size by the time it took to pass through them-some 20 minutes. What did it cost them to get there? How much does it cost them to stay there? Has the reality stacked up to the dream that they once had? Until we get a chance to meet them, we can only speculate.
     After a night with a little Andean turbulence, we woke up to the beautiful shapes of mountains. The higher ones had snow, and I could only think of Alaska to the north or Patagonia to the south. The Psalm that says that God owns "the cattle on a thousand hills" would not leave my mind. The same God whose Spirit is transforming our hearts crafted every individual in the shanties and every Andean crag. His power is anything but static, and is always on the move to transform people. In fact, the work he does to change a human and to pursue the people that he already claims is not unlike his creation of mountainous landscapes.  
     After a long night, we arrived in Cusco. The former capital of both the Inca and then the Spaniards is a beautiful medley of pre-colombian and colonial architecture. We grabbed a cab to our apartment rental and settled in. I believe that you will like the view. Another update soon.