Machu Picchu. Possibly one of the only Tourist Meccas I’ve seen that fully deserves its renowned stature. Beginning construction on the will of the great Incan leader and architect Pachacutec in the 15th century at the height of the Incan Empire, and abandoned by the Incas in 1536 in lieu of the incoming Spanish slaughterers, this city is the only remaining ruins of the Incan Empire never found by the Spanish Conquistadors, and therefore never destroyed. Thought to be the intellectual center of the Incas Sacred Valley inhabitants, Machu Picchu was a legendary city in the ears of the Spanish that was never to be discovered, thanks to the Incans decision to destroy the only remaining Incan Trail leading to the city, in hopes to preserve their magnificent architecture. That is until Hiram Bingham, an American anthropologist in search of Vilcabamba, the home of the last living Incan civilization, fell upon this New Wonder of the World by accident in 1911. Bingham, by the way, took up many of the gold, silver, idols, and other artifacts he found and brought them back to Yale where they are still housed today; the Peruvian government, as you can imagine, has some opinionated thoughts about this.
As tradition goes (at least for the real travelers, we woke up at about 4:45 AM to meet our guide and head up to the bus station that would take us up the curvy mountain road, back 500 years, into the history and culture of the most famous Empire to inhabit the South American continent. Starting our journey into the city at about 6:00 AM and with a mystical fog and light drizzle hanging over us that only National Geographic can mimic in its special editions, my breath was literally taken away (how many times am I going to say that on this trip?) by the grandiose size of the site – it is bigger than you could ever imagine. Not until the fog cleared about two hours later could I really appreciate how vast this civilization really was. We began with the numerous terraces, cut in the side of the mountain in order to catch rain and better cultivate the crops that were grown to feed the city. Sprinkled amongst these terraces were the homes of the daily citizens, built with stones and mud; and don’t kid yourself, they had running water in this ancient city as well – springs in the mountainside were tapped and led to canals which fled into the city for showering, irrigating, or spiritual rituals. We moved on to the religious center of worship which was built a bit higher than the houses. This spiritual center was made only of the largest, monolith stones dragged from faraway peaks and chiseled into perfect rectangular pieces, placed together like a puzzle with no mistakes. There was a window to the East, where the sun could shine in on the stone structure in the middle, which would then cast a shadow on the ground in the shape of the Andean Cross. Also, there was a large figure in the middle resembling a Condor, the sacred bird of the Incas which had a wing-span of almost 6 feet! In some of the other, small places of daily worship, they constructed niches (windows but with no openings) where they could place there heads in to hum and meditate; the resonance of the sounds were said to go straight to the gods, and could also be heard from almost anywhere else in the city. We saw the plaza, the center of town where large gatherings were held and the Incan leader could speak to his people from a lookout point high above; a symbolic structure in the center was also destroyed by current president Alan Garcia when he decided to fly a helicopter in and land in the plaza.
All in all, I was most impressed with the architecture and intricate construction of everything in the city. Large stones dragged from mountaintops could take months or even years to reach their destination for construction, and the chiseling and carving of the stones was usually one person’s life-long career. There was no money in Incan society; however, there were taxes – paid by one’s manual labor. Citizens from surrounding areas of the empire would travel especially to Machu Picchu to participate in the construction of the marvel. The abundant presence of their sophistication and civilization makes one wonder why the Spanish ever thought these “barbarians” needed saving; it also makes one wonder what the empire could have amounted to had the West not interfered.
Fransisco Pizzarro and his Spanish conquistadors fled into the Incan Empire in 1536 and destroyed most of the civilizations they found including Ollantaytambo, Pisaq, and the capital Cusco. They heard of the intellectual center of Machu Picchu (which, by the way literally means “Old Mountain” and was not the original name of the city) but could never find it because of the destroyed path, and because of their preoccupation with finding the “El Dorado” of the Incas, Vilcabamba. After years of fighting and struggling with the Spanish to preserve their culture, the last Incan King took about 500 of his people and hid in the valley of Vilcabamba, continuing the Incan culture and customs, hidden from the Spanish for almost 100 more years. Finally, he was found and killed, along with the legend of the Incas. However, some believe the Incan spirit and heritage still live on in Peru, through the blood line of those who were captured forced into slavery by the Spanish, but never converted from the Incan treasures in their heart.
After the fog lifted and the rain stopped, I headed back out to explore the highest point of the ruins, Incahuapac. It was an extremely long hike up (which makes me appreciate how great of shape these people were in!) but completely worth it. You can’t appreciate the size of this untouched city until you see it from the top, in broad daylight, with the backdrop of the green Andes behind it. I felt like an Incan, breathing in the fresh, mountain air and feeling the serene tranquility of being in the presence of such a magnificent ancient peoples. Although you must always come down the mountain, the surreal experience will remain in my thoughts forever.
As tradition goes (at least for the real travelers, we woke up at about 4:45 AM to meet our guide and head up to the bus station that would take us up the curvy mountain road, back 500 years, into the history and culture of the most famous Empire to inhabit the South American continent. Starting our journey into the city at about 6:00 AM and with a mystical fog and light drizzle hanging over us that only National Geographic can mimic in its special editions, my breath was literally taken away (how many times am I going to say that on this trip?) by the grandiose size of the site – it is bigger than you could ever imagine. Not until the fog cleared about two hours later could I really appreciate how vast this civilization really was. We began with the numerous terraces, cut in the side of the mountain in order to catch rain and better cultivate the crops that were grown to feed the city. Sprinkled amongst these terraces were the homes of the daily citizens, built with stones and mud; and don’t kid yourself, they had running water in this ancient city as well – springs in the mountainside were tapped and led to canals which fled into the city for showering, irrigating, or spiritual rituals. We moved on to the religious center of worship which was built a bit higher than the houses. This spiritual center was made only of the largest, monolith stones dragged from faraway peaks and chiseled into perfect rectangular pieces, placed together like a puzzle with no mistakes. There was a window to the East, where the sun could shine in on the stone structure in the middle, which would then cast a shadow on the ground in the shape of the Andean Cross. Also, there was a large figure in the middle resembling a Condor, the sacred bird of the Incas which had a wing-span of almost 6 feet! In some of the other, small places of daily worship, they constructed niches (windows but with no openings) where they could place there heads in to hum and meditate; the resonance of the sounds were said to go straight to the gods, and could also be heard from almost anywhere else in the city. We saw the plaza, the center of town where large gatherings were held and the Incan leader could speak to his people from a lookout point high above; a symbolic structure in the center was also destroyed by current president Alan Garcia when he decided to fly a helicopter in and land in the plaza.
All in all, I was most impressed with the architecture and intricate construction of everything in the city. Large stones dragged from mountaintops could take months or even years to reach their destination for construction, and the chiseling and carving of the stones was usually one person’s life-long career. There was no money in Incan society; however, there were taxes – paid by one’s manual labor. Citizens from surrounding areas of the empire would travel especially to Machu Picchu to participate in the construction of the marvel. The abundant presence of their sophistication and civilization makes one wonder why the Spanish ever thought these “barbarians” needed saving; it also makes one wonder what the empire could have amounted to had the West not interfered.
Fransisco Pizzarro and his Spanish conquistadors fled into the Incan Empire in 1536 and destroyed most of the civilizations they found including Ollantaytambo, Pisaq, and the capital Cusco. They heard of the intellectual center of Machu Picchu (which, by the way literally means “Old Mountain” and was not the original name of the city) but could never find it because of the destroyed path, and because of their preoccupation with finding the “El Dorado” of the Incas, Vilcabamba. After years of fighting and struggling with the Spanish to preserve their culture, the last Incan King took about 500 of his people and hid in the valley of Vilcabamba, continuing the Incan culture and customs, hidden from the Spanish for almost 100 more years. Finally, he was found and killed, along with the legend of the Incas. However, some believe the Incan spirit and heritage still live on in Peru, through the blood line of those who were captured forced into slavery by the Spanish, but never converted from the Incan treasures in their heart.
After the fog lifted and the rain stopped, I headed back out to explore the highest point of the ruins, Incahuapac. It was an extremely long hike up (which makes me appreciate how great of shape these people were in!) but completely worth it. You can’t appreciate the size of this untouched city until you see it from the top, in broad daylight, with the backdrop of the green Andes behind it. I felt like an Incan, breathing in the fresh, mountain air and feeling the serene tranquility of being in the presence of such a magnificent ancient peoples. Although you must always come down the mountain, the surreal experience will remain in my thoughts forever.
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