Monday, August 4

Location: Cuzco, Peru

Today's weather: 20░C, Sunny

Eager to get the train tickets, I got up before 5am so that I could be at the station when it opened. It didn't expect many people to be there, so was shocked to find a queue of at least 60 people. The queue moved very slowly, and it wasn't until after 7am until I finally got close to the ticket window – except then the ticket officer closed it when I was just two people away from buying my ticket. There was a minor riot among the people in the queue. The ticket officer said the office would reopen at 8am, but by then it would be too late – I had the bookings to spend the day horsetrekking, so couldn't spend another hour waiting around. Disappointed and frustrated, I returned to the hostel, then snuck off to have a breakfast of pancakes with banana, orange juice and coffee.

At 8:20am, I met Karen outside the hostel, then we walked to the company office on the other side of Plaza de Armas where we'd arranged for the horsetrekking. Vicki from the tourist company met us – and informed us that although our booking was okay, we needed to pay extra for the horse to be used by our guide. We hadn't been told this when we had made the bookings and paid for the trip – and we were annoyed that the extra charge had never been mentioned up front. Even so, the cost of our horses, the guide, and the guide's horse only came to $US 20 ($NZ 30) for each of us, so the trip didn't work out too expensive.

A few minutes later, we were driven to a small side-street on the edge of town. We entered into a courtyard, where several horses were gathered. The horses weren't much to look at – they were all very small, scraggly, and some had sores on the backs from saddles. Karen and I chose the healthiest looking horses, preferring to let the sicker ones rest. Our horses were saddled up, and we left – trekking down the street and across a busy road until we reached a small pathway up into the mountains. My horse was a mottled-grey mare called Esmeralda. Karen's was a small white mare called "Flash" (though the name didn't seem to suit such a small horse).

Our guide took us up into the hills, through several small villages and farms. Trailing behind on foot was a boy, about 14 years old, who was responsible for tending the horses. The horses behaved a little differently from the ones I'd ridden back in New Zealand – usually you can make horses go a little faster by squeezing their sides softly with your heels. But it didn't work with these horses – instead, the horse-tender was able to make them go faster by making a whistling sound which I couldn't imitate despite my best efforts.

The scenery that we rode through was stunning. We were surrounded by mountains, although only one of them had snow. There were fields on the mountainsides growing a variety of products for the local markets, and families tending them dressed in colourful traditional Peruvian outfits. Our guide told us that many of these people only spoke Quechua, the old language of the Incas – and not Spanish.

About an hour into the ride we stopped off for a brief rest outside one of the local villages. It was hot, and I was already getting sunburnt (I'd forgotten the sunscreen again). I was thirsty so opened up my water bottle. Seeing that neither the guide or horse-tender had brought along any water for themselves I tossed a water bottle to each of them – feeling glad that I had brought along some spares.

After three hours of riding we reached the first ruin. It wasn't what I had expected. I expected a building made from stone blocks similar to the Inca walls that I had seen in Cuzco – but this was a large natural rock (5 metres high and 10 metres wide) into which the Incas had carved passageways and alters. It was a temple to worship the earth and to ask the gods for good fortune. Our guide told us that the temple had once been much bigger, but that the Church had tried to destroy it during colonial Spanish rule fearing a resurgence of the the native Inca religion. However, the temple is still occasionally used by local people who still follow some of the old beliefs.

About an hour later, we reached another temple called Temple La Luna (Temple of the Moon). It was also carved into a huge natural rock – but it was much bigger than the previous one. The rock was about 9 metres high, 20 metres across, and 9 metres deep. There were a few small caverns within which the Incas had carved alters, seats, and figures of various animals. In one of the caverns there was a hole in the roof far above us – the guide said that when it was a full moon, light beams would shine through the hole down onto the alter. Here the Incas would make their offerings in the hope of a good harvest. On the alter, we could see coca leaves and flowers left by local people who still practised the ceremony. The entrance to the cavern was guarded by two snakes and a puma carved alongside the doorway.

The guide then led Karen and I on a climb up the side of the rock. It was very difficult – the lack of oxygen at this height meant that I was breathing very hard. I had to stop for a quick rest, even though I hadn't really climbed all that far. Eventually we reached the top, where the guide showed us more carvings left behind by the Incas. There were several small channels cut into the rock. The channels ended at a small funnel where two carved condors appeared to be drinking. The guide told us that this spot was where the Inca priests used to sacrifice llamas. The llamas' blood was an offering to the gods, and that condors were regarded as the gods' messengers. Unfortunately, as with the previous temple, most of the carvings had been defiled by the church who had smashed the heads off all the figures. At this point I wondered how the church would feel if an Inca went into the Vatican and smashed the heads off all their figures. I felt a little angry, I guess, because I think it was wrong to destroy something which had taken people over a hundred years to build and was regarded as sacred.

We continued our ride, travelling past the temple at Quenko, and onto the Inca fortress of Sacsayhuaman. Sacsayhuaman (which sounds almost like "sexy woman") is Quechua for "satisfied falcon". I'm not sure why they called it this – but the fortress was also used for religious ceremonies and (as mentioned earlier) some birds were regarded as messengers of the gods, so had offerings made to them. Construction began at Sacsayhuaman in about 1450 on the orders of Inca Pachacuti. It was intended as a fortress to guard the city of Cuzco. When Pachacuti rebuilt Cuzco, he built the city in the shape of a Puma, with Sacsayhuaman forming the Puma's head. However, the fortress still wasn't finished when the Spanish arrived in 1533 (80 years after construction began) – and it is reported that there were still 20,000 Incas working on the fortress even as the Spanish marched into the city of Cuzco.

Sacsayhuaman is still very impressive today. It has gigantic stone walls and, like most other Inca walls, the stones aren't stuck together with mortar. Instead, the stones are carved so that they fit perfectly together. The Incas' building achievements are incredible when you consider that some of the individual stones are 9 metres high and weigh more than 120 tons. The only tools that the Incas had were chisels made from ironstone (stone containing a high percentage of iron). But, as impressive as it is, only 20 percent of Sacsayhuaman remains. Most of the structure, including several high walls and towers, was torn down by the Spaniards who used the stones to construct the city's many colonial buildings and churches. Locals were still taking stones from Sacsayhuaman until the 1930s for building new houses.

Since Sacsayhuaman is just a short walk from the centre of Cuzco, we opted to walk back into town instead of riding the horses all the way back to the farm. I gave the horse-tender a big tip and thanked him for all his help. He then left, taking the horses back with him. Karen, me, and the guide wandered back into town past a big festival at one of the local churches. Afterwards, we said goodbye to the guide and thanked him also. This time, Karen gave him the tip.

It was 3:30pm. Karen and I stopped briefly at the hostel to drop off our packs and to drink some more water. We then headed back to the train station to see if we could finally get some tickets for travelling to Machu Picchu. We queued for an hour – but the ticket office closed on us yet again. We swapped to another queue, but that office also closed about a half-hour later. I think that I must have spent a total of 6 hours queuing for train tickets over the past few days with nothing to show for it!

Frustrated at the problems getting train tickets, I suggested to Karen the local helicopter service that I had seen in Plaza de Armas. It was more expensive than the train – but at least there were no queues for tickets. The helicopter ride would take 25 minutes instead of the five hours by train, and the seats would be guaranteed (sometimes seats on the train aren't guaranteed). Besides, I thought, the helicopter ride would be fun and would have terrific views. A few short minutes and a zip-zap of the credit card later, we had our tickets. Karen would fly up on Tuesday to meet her friend, Janice, who had walked up the Inca Trail. I would fly up on Wednesday, instead. In both cases we would catch the train from Machu Picchu back to Cuzco because the ticket offices there were much simpler and less crowded.

After returning back to the hostel, I visited a local office with Internet connections so that I could check my email and reply to messages. I returned to the hostel again, waiting for a phonecall from Danielle in New Zealand. While waiting in the reception area I heard some familiar accents from the two women checking in. They had to be Kiwis, I thought. Introducing myself, I discovered that their names were Kirsten and Anna, and both came from Auckland. We chatted for a while comparing travel stories. Upon hearing that I was using the Internet to link back to NZ, Kirsten asked about the Internet office where I was checking my mail (I had luckily enough stumbled onto the cheapest service in Cuzco). I showed her to the office, which was just around the corner from the hostel. Once we found the place, she and Anna spent the next two hours "surfing the 'net" and writing to friends back home in NZ. Meanwhile, I walked down the street to the local telephone office to phone Danielle and check the details for the next day's audioconference.