Out of alms way
The lost city
South America is a very Catholic, in Copacabana – Bolivia and Cusco – Peru, both have dramatic hillsides that over look them, each with a set of the 14 stations of the cross leading to the summit, many people making the pilgrimage to the top. Arriving in Cuzco, riding into the main square Plaza de Armas, there is a young priest setting up a PA system with a few alter boys ready for a public carol service on the steps of Cusco cathedral. Over the next few days the cathedral, churches and smalls business begin to give out alms – charitable gifts – to the poor, the streets of Cusco fill with the poor from the surrounding hills and valleys. There are hundreds queuing throughout the city, mothers and ragamuffin children with their black, matted, fly away hair, the girls dressed in felt hats and tatted, yet colourful skirts and shawls, the boys trouser legs fraying, their feet bare. It’s a happy time, hot chocolate and pastries dished up to those who patiently wait, children outside one church are all playing with colourful footballs handed out, even father Christmas makes an early appearance in one of the central squares, his sack full of sweats. Occasionally in one of the mothers face, you’ll see a look of genuine despair as her children play on oblivious to their future. It’s times like this you realise how lucky we are to have the safety net of social security and the NHS, surely this should be strived for globally. A few days later the streets are cleared, there is no longer any sign of the poor, begging is not tolerated and once the almsgiving is completed, the police ensure that the beauty and athletics of Cuzco remain untainted.
The train to Machupicchu leaves early in the morning, the carriages and engine painted royal blue, below the windows run two bright, double yellow stripes, emblazoned in the same paint on each coach “Peru rail”. We pull away from the station, rising very slowly up the valley banks, then after a few minutes the we gradually slow and stop, from the window I can see a railway work switch the points with a big leaver, then in the opposite direction, the train moves on to the next track, climbing up the hill side a little more. Again, after a few minutes, the train stops, the points are switched and we move off in the opposite direction, as the process is repeated, the locomotive gradually zigzags it’s way to the top of the valley, then down the other side. Up and down the hill sides the train slowly goes, occasionally finding some level ground for a few miles, until four hours later we arrive at the base of Machupicchu, there is then a precarious bus journey up the hill side before, finally I get to enter “The lost city” on foot.
Machupicchu, at 2500 meters, is high up in the Urubamba Valley is where around 1440 the Inca people decided to build their capital. Only around 600 of the elite Incas lived on the site and it’s thought even then the building were retreats, often left empty during the rainy season, available as a secure bolt hole if necessary. The houses and temples are built of finely cut and polished stone, the finest masonry used to build temples with astrological alignments, including one block of stone, thought to be an early form of calender and sundial. In the main square a giant obelisk rises into the sky. The location has springs to provide water and its inaccessibility gives it natural defenses. The Spanish searched for the city, but the Incas had covered all the roads with fast growing vegetation and lead them to a fortress gate, duping them into thinking this was the lost city, a battle and siege then took place over the gate, but it’s not believed that the Spanish ever entered or found the city. Although the city was never lost to local people, Hiram Bingham was lead to the city in 1911, rediscovering Machupicchu from a western perspective. Excavating the site he discovered over a hundred tombs, filled with treasures and artifacts. You can see these pieces today by taking a simple trip, by plane, thousands of miles to the USA, where the collection now resides, removed in its entirety, with the promise that it would be returned upon the request of the government of Peru. The request has been made, but Yale university has so far refused. As for the obelisk, in the 1970’s the Peruvian government wanted to fly in some important dignitaries to see the sight, but their was nowhere to land the helicopter. The solution, dig a hole, smash the obelisk to pieces, fill in the whole and there you have it, one helipad.
Returning on the train to Cuzco I had one last stop to make. I’m not a great one for pilgrimages, so simply sat quietly with a glass of red wine for half an hour, pondering. “That was ‘Half man half biscuit’, this is ‘Napalm Death’, incidentally I have it on good authority that they all love their mothers…”
The train to Machupicchu leaves early in the morning, the carriages and engine painted royal blue, below the windows run two bright, double yellow stripes, emblazoned in the same paint on each coach “Peru rail”. We pull away from the station, rising very slowly up the valley banks, then after a few minutes the we gradually slow and stop, from the window I can see a railway work switch the points with a big leaver, then in the opposite direction, the train moves on to the next track, climbing up the hill side a little more. Again, after a few minutes, the train stops, the points are switched and we move off in the opposite direction, as the process is repeated, the locomotive gradually zigzags it’s way to the top of the valley, then down the other side. Up and down the hill sides the train slowly goes, occasionally finding some level ground for a few miles, until four hours later we arrive at the base of Machupicchu, there is then a precarious bus journey up the hill side before, finally I get to enter “The lost city” on foot.
Machupicchu, at 2500 meters, is high up in the Urubamba Valley is where around 1440 the Inca people decided to build their capital. Only around 600 of the elite Incas lived on the site and it’s thought even then the building were retreats, often left empty during the rainy season, available as a secure bolt hole if necessary. The houses and temples are built of finely cut and polished stone, the finest masonry used to build temples with astrological alignments, including one block of stone, thought to be an early form of calender and sundial. In the main square a giant obelisk rises into the sky. The location has springs to provide water and its inaccessibility gives it natural defenses. The Spanish searched for the city, but the Incas had covered all the roads with fast growing vegetation and lead them to a fortress gate, duping them into thinking this was the lost city, a battle and siege then took place over the gate, but it’s not believed that the Spanish ever entered or found the city. Although the city was never lost to local people, Hiram Bingham was lead to the city in 1911, rediscovering Machupicchu from a western perspective. Excavating the site he discovered over a hundred tombs, filled with treasures and artifacts. You can see these pieces today by taking a simple trip, by plane, thousands of miles to the USA, where the collection now resides, removed in its entirety, with the promise that it would be returned upon the request of the government of Peru. The request has been made, but Yale university has so far refused. As for the obelisk, in the 1970’s the Peruvian government wanted to fly in some important dignitaries to see the sight, but their was nowhere to land the helicopter. The solution, dig a hole, smash the obelisk to pieces, fill in the whole and there you have it, one helipad.
Returning on the train to Cuzco I had one last stop to make. I’m not a great one for pilgrimages, so simply sat quietly with a glass of red wine for half an hour, pondering. “That was ‘Half man half biscuit’, this is ‘Napalm Death’, incidentally I have it on good authority that they all love their mothers…”