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We rose before the sparrows and made our way to the bus to take us up the windy-windy road to the ruins. Man but these mountains are the first to impress me more than the Drakensberg. What awe-inspiring and breath taking views and landscapes. There are truly no words or pictures to give justice to what we saw. The slopes are so steep it is hard to believe that anyone in their right mind would even begin to try and build anything on those slopes never mind the ancient miracle of engineering we saw. We walked through the ruins and marvelled at the views and the scenery. It was very cloudy and foggy, but the sun did break through sufficiently for us see the true wonders of the ruins and the mountains. Graeme had booked for both of us to do the hike up Waipicchu, but I took one look at the slope and knew that there was no way in this present life that I would cope with that climb, so I opted for the very long, but beautiful walk to the Inca bridge, while Graeme ploughed his manhood up that slope. By the time he returned it was raining so we went for the most expensive cup of hot chocolate anyone could imagine drinking, but it was sooooooooo good after a long and chilly morning.
We then returned to the village in the hopes that our hostel would allow us to shower before catching the train back to Cusco. Yeah, right! No such thing. We simply changed into dryer and warmer clothes and made our way to the very colourful market to ogle at all the stunning artistry of Peruvian creativity and weaving. The train ride back was much sleepier than the one coming in to Machu Picchu. Everyone was sleeping before they had even brought the drinks through. Once at the other end the haggling started again and lo and behold we ended up sharing a taxi with the 2 South Korean chaps again. We fell into more amiable conversation with them this time and they gave their contact details for Tom and Courts to get in touch with them when they are there, or even before. We were dropped at the bus terminal where Fernando was meant to meet us with our luggage to catch the bus to Arequipa.
Peruvian time is as bad as if not worse than South African time. We eventually had the bus service phoning him to find out where he was. The very kind gentleman behind the counter went to the bus and I am sure saw to it that they waited for us, because he was as cool as a cucumber reassuring me all the time not to panic, but just to follow him. Fernando arrived as the clock turned to departure time, and we boarded the bus with a huff and puff of relief.
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