I fled Ecuador to get to Peru as soon as possible. I paid for my haste with a penalty when leaving the country. At the border with Bolivia, the border guard calls my attention to a number in my passport. There is a small 30 on the stamp. This refers to an interview I had with his colleague when entering Peru. Unconsciously I answered the question how long I intend to stay in Peru succinctly with 30 days.
Without expectations, no, on the contrary, with reduced expectations, I set out in the morning to make the approximately 500 meters of altitude to the entrance of Machu Picchu on time, as noted on my ticket. The path zigzags from the river up to the mountain. Again and again I have to cross the road, on which the masses stream with buses to the wonder of the world.
When I was planning my hike to Choquequirao, it occurred to me that the two ruins were only about 60 air kilometers apart. The prospect of hiking off the tourist Salkantay route to the sanctuary of Machu Picchu, and the fact that I would probably only be in the area once, finally convinced me to visit both ruins.
Suddenly it starts to snow. It is not the first time that day that the weather suddenly changes. A few hours before, light hail has already fallen from the sky. I am just sitting at the foot of my last pass before my camp for today and meditating.
Cusco is beautiful at first sight. Already when entering with the Collectivo, I noticed the many colonial buildings. My hostel is located directly in the city center, not far from the Plaza de Armas, the central square. But to get here I first had to go on an odyssey hunting for my stored things.
