...because I didn{t at the time, despite encouragement to rub in Marlon{s face that I whupped his ass (apparently he was heard to mutter "I can{t be beaten by a girl" the whole way up). Discovered my inner mountain goat for Machu Picchu, with the aid of Selena Gomez and "Naturally".
Anyway, I have been v.negligent with blog, from about MP time in fact so will have to catch up now. It{s my last proper night in South America (tomorrow will be spent in luxury, comparitively anyway, on the Cruz del Sur Bus Of Joy (TM) en route to Lima), so I figured I should update blog in the beautiful environs of Loki Mancora. So, as ever, working backwards....
MACHU PICCHU
My new role as team leader affirmed (such a cuckoo), I was once again put in charge of all tickets, setting of alarms etc. Apparently in Peru the women wear the (striped traveller) trousers... Having gathered large quantities of liquids with which to soothe hangovers, we hopped in mode of transport 1: a small tin can of a mini bus, perfectly suited to vertically challenged types such as yours truly with stumpy legs that fold away neatly, less perfect for anyone over the height of about 6 ft. Which was all five boys. Journey to the train was breakneck to say the least but absolutely stunning - snow capped mountains rising in the distance, great vistas spreading before us before seemingly dropping away to nothing. Spent most of the time craning my head out of the window to gawp. Interesting diversion just before our stop at Ollantambababayayayayay or whatever it{s called in the form of a rock slide on to the road. At home this would equal huge tailback, large quantities of stripy tape, flashing lights, and lots of officious policemen. As all the officious policemen in South America are in fact based in La Paz, there was no such fluster here. Instead all the minivans etc took turns to negotiate around said rock fall. It was only covering the entire road for God{s sake, what{s the big deal? Plenty of room on the verge.
We get to Ollaynatambaaayayay...etc... in time for pit stop supper. Yes boys, SUPPER with PUDDING whilst wearing FLIP FLOPS. Cough. On to the train, and a small but inedible empanada later and we{re in Aguas Calientes. Get collected by the hostel lady and troop through the town and over an impressively rickety Indiana Jones-esque bridge to our hostel. Smells strongly of damp. Unsurprising. The mountains rise all around us in the dark, and given the 4am start we{re all impressively excited about the following day{s activities. Jarrad makes an excellent impression on the hostel by calling out "Hola biiiiitches" to the room as a cleaner arrives, unaware of her presence. She{s later heard giggling to herself and muttering "Hola beetches" to herself as she walks down the stairs. This plus Dim{s run in with an admittedly huge moth bird thing and susbsequent flapping around room cements the Aussie boys{ girlie reputation in AC as in the rest of South America. Nice work.
4am start ends up being a little later than planned the next am. We head up the mountain determined to take on the 1,000 plus steps that cut straight across the wiggly route the bus takes up to the top of MP. I am relieved to see that the boys are as eager as I am to stop whenever possible to gulp down water and shveat copiously on rocks etc (obviously I glow rather than sweat, being a girl). Llama hat and gloves swiftly abandoned as things get pretty warm. I{m feeling pretty defeated about 1/3rd of the way up, and considering taking the road. I then decide to start ahead of the boys next time we stop....and never look back. Bit of open, um, road or rather steps plus my favourite gym tunes from that time back in May when I went all of four times or so to the gym prove my making, as does the realisation that my stumpy legs cope better with bouncing up the steps rather than slogging at them.
I reach the top just ahead of Dim (only because he stops to take pictures admittedly) and take in the view. World{s most expensive sandwiches later and we{re ready to hit MP. We then have a very nice but somewhat thorough guide. No one falls asleep behind their sunglasses. No one. MP IS beautiful - the scenery makes it, but not my fave in S.America. That prize is still claimed by Iguazu Falls and the Salt Flats. My sense of pride in making it up those steps makes the whole thing worth it, however.
We collapse onto a bus back to AC, and then hit on the cunning plan of booking a hostel room for 4 hrs or so in which to snooze. Snooze plus food later, and it{s back to Cusco. Uneventful, bar the child screaming hysterically from inside the luggage compartment below the bus where he{s been stowed away with his mother that hinders progress back to Cusco somewhat.
We get back and celebrate Dim{s birthday again with the aid of a strawberry cheesecake Nick and Marlon have bought, and some stiff vodka and cokes. Sufficiently revived we then hit the wondrous drinking hole that is Mama Africa. I make friends with Luis the barman, and free shots ensue. Bonus.
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