And All I Got Was This Lousy…

We awoke at 5:00 a.m., and already the small town of Aguas Calientes was warming with activity. The population of less than two thousand gets dwarfed by the tourists who keep it on the map, many of whom were now boosting their excited minds even more with locally-grown coffee and fresh fruit before light could find its way into this cubbyhole of a canyon.

We were at the base of Machu Picchu.

Aguas Calientes is the last stop on the tourism train and the starting point for the monopoly of buses that carry eager hoards up to the great site. Sixteen of us had been in Peru for 20 days and we felt as though we had seen everything but this one wonder. Our days of service had ended. Our cultural education had sunk in. Our altitude sickness had (mostly) passed. Our money had been spent. This final visit marked the most anticipated item on the agenda and we didn't care anymore if we looked like tourists. Deck us out, we’re going to Machu Picchu!

We caught a bus at 5:45 to ensure entrance before the sunrise. The steep ascent of switchbacks takes 25 minutes, and it appeared that we would make it in time. At the gate, however, the first in our group showed a student ticket, and they refused her identification card. The second got the same response. Then the third. A newly-enacted rule denied 12 of the 13 students. Despite our guide’s valiant efforts, the park officials banned us until we could find another solution.

At 6:30 sharp, only minutes after the confusion began and minutes before the sun crested, the group was alert enough to send me in with my camera to catch first light. I went, and even with crowds already gathering, I found a quiet staircase.

For the next fifteen minutes, these Incan mysteries and the glorious sun were all mine.

I returned to the unresolved issue outside the gate and to what would turn out to be a very important lesson about attitude.

*****

Never mind the details that explain why, from 6:30 to 10:30 in the morning, we waited to be let in. What should have taken less than five minutes took four hours. Everyone but me missed the sunrise. The debacle threatened to ruin our last full day in country and to waste thousands of dollars in entrance fees, bus fares, train tickets, a lodging bill, and our excitement. We were at the mercy of authorities.

To make matters worse, we had to pay to go to the bathroom. One sol. Not much, but painful in this scenario. The students consoled themselves with hypothetical takeovers and t-shirt slogans such as, “I went to Machu Picchu and all I got was this lousy toilet receipt.”

At 10:20, with proper tickets finally in hand and students rejoicing, I made my way to the entrance for the second time. I was secretly frustrated and couldn't help wondering how to be mean enough to make a point without getting banned for another reason.

That’s when my co-leader said (more for his own sake than anyone else's), “Bitterness aside, we’ve spent the last four hours eating, playing cards, reading our next assignment, people-watching, and entertaining the locals with a stellar game of Ninja, all with beautiful weather, in good company, and in South America no less. Anywhere else, and this would have been the perfect morning. Funny how expectations muddle that.”

Yes, funny. He was smiling to himself at the irony. I smiled back. I couldn't set the bitterness aside right then and there exactly, but his insight made ruins of my perspective. He saved me from wasting a marvelous day, because it really was a marvelous day.

And now the t-shirt slogan just makes me laugh.

Post and images by Sam Van Eman. This was my second trip to Peru with college students through the CCO.