Aguas Calientes: In a Postcard

by Megan Eileen McDonough | 2009

The train from Cuzco to Aguas Calientes was filled with anticipation. Eager tourists from all walks of life shared the dream of climbing Machu Picchu. Staring out the left side of the train, I slipped into a dreamlike state imaging what adventures Aguas Calientes would bring. The train trudged along the rails, winding up and down the vast mountain range. We passed locals working the fields and I found myself craving a glimpse into their lives. In our speed they disappeared into the distance and out of my mind.

Once the train reached our destination, we all hopped off and were immediately surrounded by local villagers selling ponchos, souvenirs, and other trinkets. In reaching the hotel, our tour guide led us through the largest market I had ever seen. Making our way through the crowd, we walked across a suspended drawbridge connecting us to the other side of town. As soon as my friend and I checked into our hotel, I quickly began exploring this strange but fascinating new place.

It was now raining, so I ran across one of the drawbridges and back to the market. There I promptly bought a lavender poncho. Finding it difficult to move from this spot, I decided to explore more of the street market. I wondered how these people sold enough each day to make a profit; so many vendors sold the same souvenirs. While some seemed extremely desperate to make a sale, others could not have cared less.

Crossing back to the other side of the city, I stopped on the bridge connecting the two parts of town. Ahead of me lay mountains, and as the rain trickled down my face I felt like Jane about to embark on Tarzan's tree vine tour of the jungle. I would never be Jane, but the splattering jungle rain felt refreshing. The sounds and smells of my surroundings woke and sharpened my senses, quenching my thirst for adventure.

Later that afternoon, we walked through the cobblestone streets leading to the famous Hot Springs. Trekking though the jungle path and up a steep hill, we made our way through the gates built to guard the natural wonder. There were about six different pools to choose from, all steaming hot and brownish in color. After getting over my initial hesitation of entering the dark colored water, I felt relaxed once fully submerged.

The view from the springs was truly breathtaking; I felt as though I was framed inside a postcard. To my right lay a huge hill with a waterfall easing down through the rocks. To the left were more jungle hills. It was hard to believe that I was spending late December in such a tropical place, especially since it was snowing back in New York City. Moments like these made me forget where I was. It was as if I was living somebody else's life, for nothing was what it seemed.

Later that evening I went on a final walk and noticed a Christmas tree brightly lit in the distance. Once closer, I discovered that it was constructed out of green soda bottles glued together.

Heading to the drawbridge one last time, I looked above at the star-filled sky. It shone so magnificently I could almost hear the whispered language of the stars. Anticipation intensified with my every breath. In just a few hours I would be up at the crack of dawn to see the Inca Ruins at Machu Picchu.

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