Enroute to Machu Picchu

Greetings from Ollantaytambo! (Try saying that 3 times quickly!). This little town is up in the mountains above Cuzco. I got up early this morning and was very lucky in catching the right bus at the right time and getting here very quickly.

I was the only gringo on the jam-packed bus and I felt like I was back in Peru again! The bus went up and up the mountains. It got light at about 6 a.m. The views of the Andes, as always, were spectacular. The mountains went WAY up. I had to crane my neck to see the tops of them ou the window.

Even though the bus left at 5:30 a.m., it was crowded with people. Most of them got off at Urubamba, the men off to work somewhere, and the Quechua women, with their bowler hats and HUGE sack of sale items slung over their shoulders and wrapped in a shawl. The train from Cuzco stops here so I´m sitting in a cafe eating breakfast.

Well, the train is something of a rolling relic and the train track is in great need of repair. We tooled along at about 10 mph in the curves and sped up to 30 or so in the straightwaway, of which there were few. The high walls of the canyon were very impressive. I was surprised that we went DOWNhill to get to Machu Picchu. The vegetation became more and more tropical: green and wet. I am in the village of Aguas Calientes. This is the last inhabited place before M.P. The town consists of hotels, restaurants, and kitsch schops.

My hotel is bordered on one side by the river Urubamba. The river is at flood stage, which is strange considering it´s late fall here. The noise of the river is deafening. The only thing louder is the train which is on the other side of the hotel. At least the train doesn´t run at night.
I´m sitting here in the outdoor cafe getting ready to leat lunch. The river is now 30 feet behind me and the train track is 10 feet in front of my table. It seems like an engine runs back and forth every 10 minutes. I have no idea why. The train track is also a main pedestrian thoroughfare. It´s hilarious to see these overweight Americans stumbling around and gasping.

Also right in front of me is a 1 to 2 year old toddler, playing by herself on the train tracks. I never cease to be amazed by kids this age who play on boat docks, next to roads, or hanging onto some one´s skirt or pant leg for the one and a half hour lurching bus ride.
The sun is blazing hot one minute and then goes behind an ominous looking dark gray cloud and comes back out again. As I´m writing this, another mom just deposited her toddler on the train tracks as well. Maybe they know? Maybe there´s no more trains until late afternoon? Who knows? As I sit here eating, I´ve got one ear cocked for the rumble of the train, ready to spring into action.