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Our next stop at the other end of the Sacred Valley was Pisac, another quaint village famous for its market.  It is probably among the best and most colourful in Peru and it is also one of the busiest.  Unlike other markets we had been to, it did not really cater for the locals, existing solely for tourists, especially day-trippers from Cusco.  A handful of vendors sat on the pavement selling peppers and tomatoes, but the large stalls selling local handicrafts and textiles heavily outnumbered them.  The market seemed more compact than the Otavalo market (Ecuador), but there were a lot more tourists.

Trying not to catch the eye of any of the stall vendors, we moseyed around the labyrinth of Andean colours; reds, oranges and browns.  We were almost halfway through our trip, which meant we could start considering buying things to take home.  Showing any interest at all in any of the goods was fatal, the stallholder pouncing on you before you could move onto the next stall.  The only item we ended up buying were a few brightly coloured locally made ceramic beads.

If we saw something we liked we invariably tried to knock of a bit of “gringo tax”, although to be honest we didn’t really want to barter the price too low.  Quibbling over a few pennies didn’t seem quite right.  We had learnt to tell if we were being ripped off, and knew what the going rates were for most goods.  We walked away from those vendors that were trying it on, who would usually shout after us, offering the goods at a fairer price.

Wandering around the market were local woman and young children dressed in traditional costume, with lambs or puppies tucked under their arms, or young llamas on leads.  Every tourist they passed they would ask them if they wanted to take a photo of them with their fluffy cute animal.  As soon as the photo had been taken, they would then ask for money.  The tourists didn’t have much option but to hand over some coins – they had been fleeced (literally).  Maybe this was how all the books and brochures managed to get some interesting photos of people.  There was no way we were prepared to pay for the privilege of taking a photo, and anyway the women were making enough money without our cash lining their pockets.  Overlooking the square we watched these entrepreneurs in action and couldn’t help but laugh at a particularly loud, arrogant American woman being collared.  After making a small girl holding a puppy pose for her camera she turned to walk away, only to be chased after by the little girl with her hand outstretched asking for a dollar.  A Peruvian Sol was obviously not enough for her.  Not only that, but the three other women who had been sitting on the pavement in the background also insisted on being paid for their appearance.  The cost of one photo was more than she would have paid for the actual camera film.

High above the village centre, and away from the hustle and bustle of the market, is a large citadel.  Marking the southerly entrance to the Sacred Valley, this fortress would have been strategically important, monitoring the road that travelled between the mountains and the jungle.

The walk up to the ruins took us up through loads of terraces, and was quite exhausting, but the great panoramic views over the village and surrounding mountains made it worthwhile.  Reaching the first part of the fortress we sat and appreciated the birds eye view high above the valley.  From such a height we could see how fertile this valley was, a patchwork of fields spread out across the floodplain and terraces stretching up the steep flanks of the hills.  Spotting a tractor in one field, we realised it was the first we had noticed in South America as most fields are ploughed by hand or using oxen.

This was just the start of the citadel complex and we kept discovering more and more with every corner we went round and every hilltop we went over.  The Pisac fortress, terraces and settlements were a great place for exploring, following narrow paths around the edge of the steep cliff, up ladders and through small tunnels carved into the mountain.  Around each corner was another fortress, temple or small ruined hamlet.  In the centre of one ruin was a beautiful and precisely constructed religious centre, with smooth granite walls surrounded by sacred rocky outcrops, whose peculiar shapes and angles are thought to have aided in tracking important stars.  A strange function, considering it is called Temple of the Sun.

Engrossed in exploring the ruins, we hadn’t realised that the site had actually closed and the sun was starting to set behind the mountains.  We didn’t manage to see all of the buildings and could have easily spent a couple more hours wandering around the houses and temples, but our time, and light, had run out.  It was dark, and we were shattered, by the time we got back to town.  The market was packed up, all the stalls and tourists had gone, the main square eerily quiet.

We left Pisac over a kilogram lighter.  It certainly had nothing to do with lack of food, because we had found a great restaurant to eat it.  Nor did we have the return of the shits.  Just before we left home, the new Harry Potter book had been realised.  Seeing as J.K. Rowling had kept us waiting so long for book number five we just had to take a copy with us.  It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but when we had both finished reading it, we suddenly realised how heavy and bulky the book really was.  In Pisac there was a reasonably good book exchange where we finally got rid of Harry Potter, therefore taking 1kg off the weight of our packs.  It was a shame to see it go, but Ulrike, the local restaurant owner who had acquired it had been waiting for it to be released as long as we had and certainly appreciated us relinquishing it.

Back in Cusco we re-packed our rucksacks for our trip to Machu Picchu.  Our hotel had moved us to the front room, and we were kept awake all night with endless numbers of pissed people shouting out on the street and ringing the hotel doorbell all night.  When the drunks quietened off, all that remained was cockerels, dogs and beeping taxis every other minute. 

In the morning we were driven around Cusco collecting other members of our Inca group and it seemed to take forever to even get out of town.  An hour after we had been picked up, it didn’t surprise us when we found ourselves parked back up outside the front door of the hostel again.  We wouldn’t have minded so much if we hadn’t missed out on our breakfast because the tour agency insisted on collecting us so early.

After stops for food, petrol, gas, tyre checks etc, we finally arrived in Ollantaytambo, for the second time.  Unlike the beautiful sunshine we had enjoyed only a few days previously we were subjected to freezing cold temperatures and lashing rain..

Article taken from Inca Hoots by Caius Simmons & Vicky Brewis.

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