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The final morning's wake-up call was at 3am as Freddy wanted us to be one of the first groups in line to gain entry through the final passport control of the trip, and into the final section of trail. It wasn't as bad as it sounds though, as we had both fallen asleep at 8pm so had had a good night's kip.
Just like the third day, we powered through the last of the hiking to the Sun Gate and stood in amazement as the sun rose over the sight we had walked all this way to see: Machu Picchu.
However, in what seemed cruel and unfair after all our efforts, we had to share the wonder with hordes of 'lazy' tourists, as Freddy put it, who had stayed over in the nearby town of Aguas Calientes and simply took the bus up to the site. So, after walking from the Sun Gate to Machu Picchu itself, all-of-a-sudden it seemed just like another one of those shepherding experiences that we so despised.
Freddy said that he had previously put it to the authorities that the 'lazies' shouldn't be granted access until the afternoon and I have to say that I agree wholeheartedly with him (other than for exceptional circumstances of course).
We listened as Freddy gave us the final talk of the trek and took in as much as of the crowd pushing and inconsiderate others as we could stand. After an hour, we had jumped on a bus to the town to meet with the rest of the group for a beer and some lunch.
We enjoyed a number of afternoon drinks and basked in the satisfaction that came with completing the trek, before heading off to our hostel to enjoy the delights of a warm shower and a proper bed.
Our train was scheduled to leave at 6pm the following day and so we were contemplating treating ourselves to a massage beforehand, and even went as far as agreeing a knock-down rate with a street rep.
However, upon arrival to the parlour, we were greeted by two small children no older than five and not an adult in site. Feeling immediately filthy, we hurriedly left with visions of those set-ups that 'western' travellers seem to get caught up in on the news: 'European couple arrested in Peruvian child massage parlour scandal' or something to that effect.
Upon embarking on the train back, it became apparent that nobody was sitting in their allocated seat number, so Anne, Rhys (from Melbourne with the Burnley mum) and I just found some others and began chewing the fat until Japanese 'lazies' assembled around us and claimed that we were sat in their seats.
Despite us advising them that people were sat in our seats and just to pick one of the many free seats a few rows back, they still instructed the conductor to ask us to move. I then advised the conductor that everyone was sat in a different seat and so the only resolution is make us all switch to their allocated ones. His response was to call out to the train to say that 'everyone should respect his country and that they have tourists from Japan that need to sit'.
f*** me. From Japan, you say? Best go and get the f***ing red carpet out then, you tosser.
Completely incensed, I did what any other British person would do in this situation and that was to refuse the complementary refreshments, refuse to say 'thank you' as we disembarked and vow never to travel with PeruRail ever again. That'll teach them.
Back in Cusco, we spent the next four days battling illness: Anne had another bout of gastro troubles; I had a cold.
We did manage to make it out for one final Peruvian experience before the next leg of our travels though and that was when we walked to the other side of the city to sample cuy, or guinea pig as it's more commonly known.
I can't say that it was overly delicious, but it certainly wasn't bad and it can join the other 'exotic' meats that we've consumed along the way.
After the few weeks of intermittent illness, Anne and I had decided that a bit of downtime was in order and so made the necessary bookings. Beforehand, however, there was one last country on our hit-list for South America though and this was perhaps the one that we were most excited about.
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