Saturday, July 26, 2008

Machu Picchu, Peru

Our Struggles to Visit Machu Picchu

By Murray and Genny Joyce



From an Internet site:

The ruins of Machu Picchu, rediscovered in 1911 by Yale archaeologist Hiram Bingham, are one of the most beautiful and enigmatic ancient sites in the world. While the Inca people certainly used the Andean mountain top (9060 feet elevation), erecting many hundreds of stone structures from the early 1400's, legends and myths indicate that Machu Picchu (meaning 'Old Peak' in the Quechua language) was revered as a sacred place from a far earlier time. Whatever its origins, the Inca turned the site into a small (5 square miles) but extraordinary city. Invisible from below and completely self-contained, surrounded by agricultural terraces sufficient to feed the population, and watered by natural springs, Machu Picchu seems to have been utilized by the Inca as a secret ceremonial city. Two thousand feet above the rumbling Urubamba river, the cloud shrouded ruins have palaces, baths, temples, storage rooms and some 150 houses, all in a remarkable state of preservation. These structures, carved from the gray granite of the mountain top are wonders of both architectural and aesthetic genius. Many of the building blocks weigh 50 tons or more yet are so precisely sculpted and fitted together with such exactitude that the mortarless joints will not permit the insertion of even a thin knife blade. Little is known of the social or religious use of the site during Inca times. The skeletal remains of ten females to one male had led to the casual assumption that the site may have been a sanctuary for the training of priestesses and /or brides for the Inca nobility. However, subsequent osteological examination of the bones revealed an equal number of male bones, thereby indicating that Machu Picchu was not exclusively a temple or dwelling place of women.

One of Machu Picchu's primary functions was that of astronomical observatory. The Intihuatana stone (meaning 'Hitching Post of the Sun') has been shown to be a precise indicator of the date of the two equinoxes and other significant celestial periods. The Intihuatana (also called the Saywa or Sukhanka stone) is designed to hitch the sun at the two equinoxes, not at the solstice (as is stated in some tourist literature and new-age books). At midday on March 21st and September 21st, the sun stands almost directly above the pillar, creating no shadow at all. At this precise moment the sun "sits with all his might upon the pillar" and is for a moment "tied" to the rock. At these periods, the Incas held ceremonies at the stone in which they "tied the sun" to halt its northward movement in the sky. There is also an Intihuatana alignment with the December solstice (the summer solstice of the southern hemisphere), when at sunset the sun sinks behind Pumasillo (the Puma's claw), the most sacred mountain of the western Vilcabamba range, but the shrine itself is primarily equinoctial.


It had long been a dream of ours to see Machu Picchu, Peru, famous due to articles and photos in National Geographic. We also had numerous friends who had visited the site and their stories made seeing it even more desirable.

An opportunity presented itself when, on January 2, 2001, we had twin great grandchildren born to our granddaughter Mary and her husband Jose Murillo in Santa Cruz de la Sierra, Bolivia. They were named Antonio and Isabel Genevieve. My Genny was beside herself to see this first great grandchild named for her (though she is called Isabel) and we were soon planning a trip.

Malc, Mary’s adopted father and our oldest son, has never been one to burden us with loans/gifts and we felt an obligation to invite him and his wife Barbara to accompany us to Bolivia, something they quickly agreed to. It would take lots of space to tell of the effort that went into making our plans but generally we hired Tambo Tours, a one-man travel agent in Houston, to make all arrangements which included travel, a visit of a couple weeks to see the kids followed by a conducted tour that included Lake Titicaca (the world’s highest lake,) riding a train over the highest railroad in the world, a visit to Machu Picchu, a canoe ride and a several-night stay in a jungle camp in the Amazon, and a flight over the Nazca Lines. How we anticipated such an adventure!

We visited in Santa Cruz from September 18 to September 29, 2001, had a wonderful experience told about in another journal, and then began the tour part.

It started out great but soon fell apart when the writer experienced altitude sickness. We flew to La Paz on September 29 where we went on a half-day tour. La Paz is somewhere about 11,800 feet in elevation, its airport at 13,313 feet (different sources give various numbers,) so that though we spent the night there and continued on our way with an overnight stay on a cruise boat on Lake Titicaca and rode the train, I was obviously suffering early on from the altitude and had by the train ride become so ‘out of it’ that neither my camcorder or still camera even came out of their cases to document such a long-sought feat, a real indication of how sick this near fanatical photographer and train buff was. We were met by our tour guide in Cuzco who checked us into a hotel and, recognizing how sick I was, fed me coca tea, put me on oxygen, and called a doctor to the hotel. The doctor quickly jerry-rigged an IV for me in my hotel room and urged us to get to sea level without hesitation. I was certainly agreeable so we had the tour company make arrangements to get us to Lima and from there home.

There was no need for our investment on the balance of the tour to be completely lost, and since there was little if anything they could do for me, Malc and Barb agreed to go ahead with what was scheduled. And their later reports implied a real adventure that I know we would have truly enjoyed if healthy.

I would have had a lot less trouble had I not felt the need for a bath, a serious mistake since in my state of near helplessness I fell in the hotel’s tile shower and cracked two ribs.

So we flew to Lima, which is at sea level, and the only cure for hypoxia (oxygen starvation) according to the doctor treating me, rested a few hours until our flight to Dallas, transferred there to another plane that took us home to Austin. I was taken directly to Seton Hospital’s emergency room on arrival and again the next day and suffered unbelievably for a good six weeks, primarily from my cracked ribs.

I read articles on the Internet to do with altitude sickness and realized that I was fortunate to have not succumbed to it.

We had not seen Machu Picchu.

We made a return trip to Santa Cruz in 2003 but limited it to visiting the grand and great grandkids and made no attempt on that trip to see Machu Picchu.

But the desire was still there so when Malc and Barb advised they meant to make a third visit to Santa Cruz in December 2005 - January 2006, we agreed to join them for a part of their visit and then go together to Machu Picchu. Genny and I were both then 79 years old and realized our opportunities would diminish or disappear quickly. In fact for me it seemed the last possible opportunity since I had already been diagnosed with End Stage Renal Failure with dialysis to begin sometime in the next few months. And that pretty well eliminates any further travel, both because of my condition and the expense of dialysis that must be continuing and not covered by Medicare outside the United States.

Tambo Tours again made all arrangements for travel subsequent to Bolivia. We first enjoyed a great time in Santa Cruz from December 26, 2005 until early morning on January 3, 2006. There had been a grand celebration of the great grandchildren’s fifth birthday on January 2 with lots of kids and their parents, gifts, foods, and paid entertainers.

On the morning of January 3, Jose and Mary took Malc, Barb, Genny and me to the airport where we all had a light breakfast before we said goodbye and were away on our flight at 8:30 AM.

Less than an hour later we landed in La Paz, Bolivia where Genny and I managed to make it down departure stairs to the tarmac and Genny took a wheelchair. I vainly said I didn‘t need one but after struggling across the tarmac and up a ramp and nearly fainting, I quickly accepted one offered me. We went through customs and to our new gate, never left our chairs and when we reboarded the same plane, four big men, one on each corner, literally carried each of us in our wheelchairs up the steps to the plane’s entrance. We were first to be boarded.

In Cuzco, Peru at 10 AM their time (they are one hour later than Bolivia) we took our time and were last getting off. We had to present declarations and passports at a desk, and then moved on through. We claimed our baggage, started outside and were quickly met by a lady, Erica, our guide from Tambo Tours, who led us to a van with a driver, Juan. We were then driven to The Best Western Los Andes Hotel, the same hotel we’d stayed at when there in ’01. This is where I had the services of a doctor to treat me for altitude sickness and fell in the shower and cracked ribs resulting in Genny and I having to leave early and miss the balance of the planned itinerary in Peru.

We were there just to leave the bulk of our luggage until our return. We gathered in the lobby and had coca tea while Erica gave Barbara our tickets for subsequent stops and we left all our baggage but for one carry-on for each couple plus my computer bag. Juan continued to be our driver but now we had Antonio as our guide. We learned later in the day he’d grown up and his parents still lived in the area of the Inca ruins we were to visit. (We were to have more than one guide who told such a story.)

We were off to the

SACRED VALLEY OF THE INCA

Hardly out of town we came across a number of participants in some sort of religious festivity dressed in colorful costume; Juan stopped and I got photos.

There followed a drive through beautiful, long views of steep mountains, deep valleys, fields of corn, stone walls, maguey plants serving as stock fences, little villages with near primitive huts of stone and stucco with tile roofs. Near all trees were tall, straight eucalyptus that we were told had been imported from Australia over 100 years earlier. Our road was winding though relatively smooth and Juan sometimes pushed it up to 110 km per hour (about 70 mph.)

One little town had an aqueduct at ground level, some 2 feet wide that ran right along the house fronts with little bridges at doorways (reminded us of Mexico.) Antonio told us this water comes from melting glaciers and is used strictly for irrigation. He pointed out salt drying beds high on the side of one hill from salt that leaches out of the mountain. He said such does not function when they have their rainy season, some six months of the year, and during those periods the salt is fed into the river, the Urubamba, a rushing mountain stream he told to be the headwaters of the Amazon.

Antonio told many interesting stories. At one place he pointed out small buildings high up on steep cliffs, said these were the burial plots of the middle class in the Inca period who were buried with their wealth in the belief they would return to live again and would need their possessions. The Spanish, supposedly to quell the native religion but more to gain the riches, broke these graves open and took anything of value. There are some that are still ‘lock-ed’ (his pronunciation) that are respected by the folks who live in this area. He had Juan stop and let him out at one point where he picked some red beans off a tree. He told us the natives have long used such to soften leather but it was also used in the treatment of the dead to make them ‘limber’ and able to be put in a fetal position for burial in anticipation of their rebirth.

PISAC

We stopped and all got out in light ran at the market town of Pisac. I was immediately approached by a super salesman with some truly attractive, to me, watercolor paintings. I judged them to be originals since on watercolor paper but I was fooled, later found the same ones for sale at every subsequent stop so they were prints. He asked $15 for one I surely showed an interest in, brought out another and asked what I’d offer for both. I’m a poor haggler but he rather hurriedly accepted an offer of $15 for both and I gave him another dollar when he asked. Genny bought little finger puppets for her great granddaughters and Jake and a woven wall hanging with a cat on it for Diane. Malc bought a cloth hat similar to the one he normally wears and had on this trip.

There were groups of women and girls in costume asking for money to take their photo; I got a group photo of them for just a dollar as suggested by a lady vendor.

Further along we had lunch at a restaurant and hotel, a rather swank place off the main road down a narrow entrance lane lined with flowering plants. We were late getting there and the last to select from their buffet. We were seated in a huge palapa, or thatch-roofed, open-sided, circular building, that held several tables. There was just one other table occupied and those folks soon left. The palapa was joined to the open-sided restaurant by a walkway and surrounded by plush lawns and flowering plants.

We got chicken vegetable soup, went back for the salad bar with a dozen selections, next for our main dish only to find they’d already picked up the meats being offered but they quickly brought them back out. They had pork in dark gravy, chicken in a cream sauce, and alpaca steaks (for real!) also in brown gravy, and fish. I had rice plus a bit of each of the meats but for fish and all was quite tasty. And we then went to the dessert table with 8 or 10 selections that most of us took at least two varieties of.

This meal was included in our tour so I was surprised when I returned from the restroom to see Barbara getting change from our waiter, learned soft drinks were not included and all had Coke, Fanta, or in my case bottled water. We all had coca tea. We found there and at later restaurants that hot drinks were included, cold drinks weren’t.

We boarded our van and continued on to Ollantaytambo, a memorable experience.

OLLANTAYTAMBO

We were let out in the center of a big gathering of souvenir stands, and then into a gate where Antonio presented passes for us to go beyond.

The sight is hard for me to describe. High on every side are mountains whose tops can hardly be seen – and we were told this is the foothills of the Andes, just over the mountains to the west. High above on the near vertical slope of the mountains were what appeared to be castles but were the roofless remains of stone-walled corn storage buildings built one above the other on the slope so that they appeared to be a single building several stories high. These occurred on several mountain slopes visible from where we were. Our site was an equally steep mountain with stone steps leading up to walls made of huge, finely finished granite blocks nested closely together with their adjoining surfaces finished so accurately that no mortar was required and almost no space could be detected between the stones. They had been built long before there was machinery for such so had to have all been cut, dressed, and laid by hand. Limestone weighs 150 pounds per cubic foot; most stones were several time that size.

Antonio gave a brief history of the place, and then suggested that Genny find a place to sit and rest or shop from the natives while he took the rest on a tour. I was set to go with them but I’d not gone too many of those steep steps before finding myself in absolutely no condition to do so and turned back. Malc, Barb, and Antonio continued on and I learned later they’d walked all the way to the top – as did hordes of other tourists.

None of us had raincoats or umbrellas so Antonio encouraged us to purchase plastic ponchos and we got those before going in. Genny had put hers on to protect somewhat from the cold wind; I soon had to get mine on because it began to rain, rather heavily at times. She and I found shelter in one of the historic ruins that one tour group after the other with guides came into, heard a story and continued on.

We went back to the shops where Genny browsed through the offerings. There were blankets, dolls, rocks, jewelry, books, post cards, on and on – and ‘original’ watercolor paintings identical to those I’d purchased earlier.

We had found a small building that blocked some of the wind when Juan came rushing up, left me with the impression ‘they’ had waited for us for some time but he’d had to park away from the square and just knew it to be near time for the others to return which they did in just a few minutes.

We were driven a short distance to Hotel Pakaritampu, a truly upscale, apparently new hotel made up of several 2-story cottages in a tropical garden with many varieties of beautiful blooming flowers. The rain had continued and a bellboy with umbrellas met us in the drive; Juan carried our luggage into the office and he and Antonio bid us goodbye. Antonio had given instructions but assured us someone from Tambo would be meeting us at each place we would go to be sure there were no problems. He had been an excellent guide with good English, a pleasant attitude, and was most knowledgeable.

We had to fill out individual registration forms and present passports and were then shown to our rooms, numbers 1 and 2 on the first floor of one of the cottages. Bellboys carried our luggage. We had room 2 that we found really nice with a big modern bath and shower, two beds, larger than single but smaller than double, a desk with chair, windows with views, etc. but no heating and it was cold! Our unit had 6 rooms on the first floor; I presume as many on the second.

Malc came to say we could go to dinner at any time but Barb had gone to sleep. Genny went to bed and was soon asleep as well. I attempted to write the journal for today, was appalled I knew too little of where we had been. Genny suggested, when she waked, that I could get much information off the itinerary Tambo had sent; she was correct.

I went to the office and brought back cups of coca tea.

I read a brochure I found in the hotel and of interest is that the altitude in Cuzco was shown to be 3,460 meters (11,240 feet,) Machu Picchu 2,200 (7,150 feet,) and here it is 2,800 (9,100 feet.) Of note is that later sources never agreed with these elevations. I should have carried my altimeter!

Genny and I were freezing and neither of us had brought even the single light coat or sweater we had. I put on a second shirt as did she but hers were short sleeved so she wrapped in a blanket and wore it to dinner.

We four went to dinner about 6:30 in the hotel’s dining room. It was a big, rather bare room with all wooden furniture and wall paneling. We were the only other table for a time but I’d guess half a dozen tables were in use when we left.

Malc had a steak, Barb had ceviche, and Genny and I shared a fettuccini Alfredo. We all had water and though we had ordered coffee for me and coca tea for Malc and Genny, it was not served until we’d finished our meals (a local custom?) I put the bill on my credit card; some 92.50 plus 10 tip; that’s Peruvian ‘Solis’ which were some 3.4 to the dollar which I figure made the bill something only in the neighborhood $27.00. The coffee and tea were 3.50 solis or about $1 each.

We were back in our beautiful but cold, cold room at 8:15.

Genny was soon to bed in an effort to get warm and was near immediately to sleep. I worked on my journal, packed everything away in preparation for tomorrow when we were to catch a train at 8 AM for Machu Picchu. We were to be called at 6, have breakfast here, and then walk with our luggage to the train station. We were not to return to this hotel.

I was in bed at 9:30, slept with Genny in her narrow bed in the interest of staying warm.

Wed., Jan. 4. Room 2, Hotel Pakaritampu, Ollantaytambo, Peru.

We had a wakeup call at 6:15 but I was awake and up long before. We had a cloudy day, normal I’d guess, being in a cloud forest with the mountain tops often obscured. We all went for the breakfast buffet, had scrambled eggs, ham, cheese, fruits, cereal, juices, yogurt, coffee concentrate! I observed here and later the coffee is brewed but intended to be diluted with either water or milk.

A TRAIN TRIP TO MACHU PICCHU

A porter placed our luggage on a 3-wheel bicycle and carried it and others’ luggage the one block to the train station. We walked on a rough, rocky road. Some rode in the 3-wheel, motorized bikes that serve as taxis in that part of the world; Genny and I probably should have.

Our guide met us there, told us where to wait, and said he’d meet us next in Machupicchu.

I noted then the signage on the train cars and subsequently everywhere there had Machupicchu spelled as one word and Cusco with an S, not a Z. I will attempt to spell them that way from here on.

Trains were being made up. Porters with huge bags on their shoulders raced by at a run. They were dirty and wore sandals. I’d guess them to have been carrying camping supplies for tourist trekkers, many of whom were there to hike the famous Inca Trail, dating back for unknown centuries.

Our train came in (from Cusco to the south,) we boarded, had assigned seats, were on number 6 of 6 cars, in the front two seats on the left. These were self-powered cars and all cars appeared to be powered; we had an engineer on our car in a closed compartment to our right. The cars were modern, clean and well maintained, had big windows and sky-view windows for easy viewing and a modern restroom in each. We had two attendants on each car, dressed in black with white shirts/blouses, equal to airline attendants on International flights.

We traveled through beautiful, near vertical sided mountains, alongside a roaring river I’d guess to still be the Urubamba on our left side for the entire 2-hour trip. The landscape consisted of these steep mountains with many varieties of cactus, interspersed by fertile valleys with fields of cultivated crops, corn for the most part, and then into a tropical jungle with bromeliads and beautiful blooming foliage.

We had numerous slow orders for track workers, otherwise seemed to travel at about 20 miles per hour. We stopped at one point to let hikers off and we saw hikers on trails above our track and across the river in several instances, always with porters carrying their heavier gear.

We went through no less than six short tunnels on this part of the trip.

We departed our train in Aguas Calientes, the town below the site of Machupicchu. There were several covered tracks in a sizeable roofed depot, here at what is obviously the end of the line, and the place was packed with tourists.

AGUAS CALIENTES

A man from our hotel met us and took our luggage and we were immediately off to make a tour of Machupicchu, high up the verdant mountain above us. We walked through a maze of covered vendor’s booths before crossing a bridge over a roaring stream descending steeply to the main river, the Urubamba that runs through the town. We found ramps to avoid the many stairs and walked to an area to board a bus, one of many leaving in rapid succession for the rather frightening 2,000 foot ascent up a steep, near vertical mountainside with continuous switchbacks on an unpaved, single lane road but two-way traffic, packed with those buses but nothing else. It rained off and on, so all was wet and we were in a cloud forest with jungle-like growth.

MACHUPICCHU

At long last, we had reached our goal.

A guide found us and maybe a dozen more from Tambo and we moved through a gate where our admission coupons were taken, then into the grounds of the ruins. This site is a National Park. There were plaques attached to the stone wall to our left, more than one of which honored Hiram Bingham and one showed a date of 1911 in which the ‘9’ looked much more like a ‘5’.

Genny and I were both out of breath and suffering from the altitude. Genny had gone that far with us but she took a seat at the first bench encountered and Barbara stayed with her. She did have a view of the ruins.

Malc and I tried to keep up with the guide but there was no way I could so Malc stayed with me and we did the best I could. One asset was a stack of hiking sticks, free for the visitor’s use, and I made good use of one. The trail was rough stone that helped for turned ankles or steep stone steps that since wet and steep as well were much of a problem for me. I took photos (though I learned later not nearly so many as I’d thought) and kept climbing long after I would have but for Malc’s encouragement.

I soon regretted having no hat; we were near the sun and my scalp was burning under my thinning hair. The plastic ponchos purchased in Ollantaytambo went on and off; the temperature seemed to vary appreciably.

I made it only to one of the intermediate upper levels. The site continued upward near out of sight and on a vertical mountain across from us (the one always a backdrop in photos) we could see bright dots of colorful clothing on people climbing to a structure near its very top. Malc pointed out a spot called The Gate high above on our mountain that he said he and Barbara had climbed to on their earlier trip. Most other tourists seemed unaffected by the altitude.

Coming down was no easier; my bad knee hurts more on a descent and every step was a truly painful one.

WE HAD FINALLY ACCOMPLISHED OUR GOAL OF SEEING MACHUPICCHU.

This experience, anticipated for much of my life, was no disappointment other than our getting there when too old and frail to truly enjoy it.

We boarded a bus for the descent. A boy who I’d guess to have been about 10, in bright red Inca costume, yelled at our bus as we passed on one of the switchbacks, then on each succeeding one as we descended; he was taking a path that ran straight down and we learned Barb and Malc had come down and gone up that path on the earlier trip (and Malc said it was the only access for years until the road had been built just in recent years). The boy beat us down, was waiting at the bottom, met us just after the bridge over the river, got on, collected tips, and let me take his photo for a tip.

Back in Aquas Calientes, we walked to our hotel, on an unpaved, narrow, cobblestone street with a single narrow-gauge railroad track running down its center with a high retainer wall on our left; souvenir stands to our right at a level two floors below the one our train had come in on. Men with wheelbarrows ran between the tracks (I realized later they were porters normally carrying luggage but also supplies to ours and another hotel further along.) There were no automobiles ever on this street and I can now remember nothing other than buses on any street.

Our hotel, Hanaqpacha Inn, with the unappealing street access and a less than pleasant exterior was nothing to rave about but inside we found it quite nice. A reception desk was immediately in front of us and to the right was a two-level dining room and bar. We had reservations on our 2001 trip at a hotel up at the Park’s entrance and probably several times as expensive. Malc and Barb had stayed there.

We went to lunch immediately, got a table at the back wall, a wall-to-wall window looking out onto a frighteningly roaring, turbulent, brown Urubamba River, rushing over huge boulders and backed by a near vertical wall of a stone mountain that we couldn’t see the top of.

They had a salad, bread, and dessert bar set up to the right, a main course and coffee bar on the left. We helped ourselves to a plentiful but rather limited variety; there was just one meat, some kind of chicken in wine. The place filled with tourists while we were there. A 3-member band entertained us with music and song; they had guitars and pan flutes, played among other things, Guantanamero, and attempted to sell CDs of their music.

In our room, on the second of four floors accessed by stairs and at the front of the hotel, we found 2 large single beds, a desk, chairs, an adequate bath, and a window overlooking the railroad track in the street, and beyond the tracks a high rock wall and the main train tracks and the depot above our room level. Our track was used; any number of trains ran down it day and night. I noted they had hex-headed bolts rather than spikes into their wooden ties.

Malc and Barb’s room was on the same floor at the back of the hotel, directly above the restaurant with a room-wide window and the same view of the river – and noise - as in the dining room.

I was cold, tired, and suffering with my aching knee so crawled under the covers near immediately. I was there until 6 the next morning, a period of some 15 hours. As elsewhere there was no provision for heating.

Genny, Malc, and Barb went downstairs for dinner. They had pizza, brought me some, but I didn’t eat.

Thur., Jan. 5. Room 22, Hanaqpacha Inn, Aguas Calientes, Peru.

I waked, finally, at 6 AM. I got a shower in cold water and dressed.

Our guide yesterday was most interesting. He said this is one of 30,000 such ruins in Peru alone, with many others in Bolivia and Chile, that Machupicchu is likewise only one of many in this immediate area with many ‘satellites’ (and we saw many from both our van and train rides.) It is believed it was built from 1450 to 1525 and mysteriously everyone left about the time finished; due to a plague or perhaps thinking the place cursed. Farmers found and moved into the area in the late 1800s and Bingham ‘discovered’ it in 1911. He told that Hiram Bingham had been the first ‘tourist’ and had ‘mysteriously’ found gold in only one tomb. He considered that not logical since gold was always buried with royalty and he’d guess it got back to the US along with all the relics found and illegally hauled off by Bingham and his crews. He was not the only one to speak despairingly of Bingham. He told us there were 3,000 visitors a year when first opened to tourists in the 1950s, are currently that many daily and the plan is to restrict the number beginning next year.

One thing he told us was that this is in a cloud forest and it was truly that this morning with heavy clouds obscuring the mountaintops; they had been that way yesterday in Ollantaytambo as well. And he told us the site, now completely devoid of any vegetation but for short grass on the flat areas, had been overgrown with a dense jungle when Bingham had first seen it.

I had taken a most brief cold shower and washed my hair; Barb turned the shower on, found plenty of hot water if you knew how to use it.

Barb knocked on our door and we went down to breakfast shortly after 7. Two twentyish Asian girls were the only other guests. We had scrambled eggs, potato chips, little link sausage sliced in small pieces and fried, pineapple, watermelon, honeydew, papaya, cereal, yogurt, juices, rolls, cake, and coffee.

Back in our room, we crawled back into bed in an effort to get warm.

Two young men were cleaning the rooms and making beds; all other guests seemed to have left and Malc said all rooms on this floor were occupied last night.

Genny had an upset stomach but she, Malc, and Barb walked to shop. We had to check out at 9 but were told we could stay and keep our luggage in our little lobby outside our door; I stayed with the luggage and my laptop.

IT IS 6:30 AM ON SATURDAY, JAN. 7. GENNY IS IN A HOSPITAL IN CUSCO, PERU. I STAYED IN THE HOSPITAL ROOM LAST NIGHT, MALC AND BARB MOVED TO OUR ROOM AT THE LOS ANDES HOTEL AND SHOULD, AT THIS TIME, BE ON THEIR WAY OR AT THE AIRPORT TO FLY TODAY TO LIMA, THEN TO DALLAS AND ON TO TULSA TOMORROW. I HAVE NOT BOOTED THIS COMPUTER UP SINCE MID-MORNING ON THURSDAY; WILL NOW TRY TO RECOUNT WHAT HAS OCCURRED SINCE.

My companions returned to the room and now Genny was really sick. She lay down on the couch in the sitting room on our floor and we covered her with a heavy blanket.

It was soon time for lunch and Barb insisted I needed to eat so we were off to find a place. I told them I was not interested in eating again in the hotel so we walked a short distance along the track to the hotel we’d passed and noticed when we came in on the train. It was right alongside the track with a steep, gabled, palm-frond thatched roof; looked like something out of Switzerland. It continued to rain.

LUNCH AT CAFÉ INKATERRA

What we found was a high-dollar hotel and restaurant, Café Inkaterra. The folks we saw there were hardly college-aged back packers. We were seated by a maitre de and such service continued. We were handed little printed menus, only one of which showed the price and that was the one given to me; I’d guess as the obvious host. The menu showed a several course meal with lots of options at a price of 81 solis or $23 US per person, most unusual for any place we’d been to date.

We were tempted to dine elsewhere but I offered to treat and it was raining so we stayed.

First we had our choices of several juices, then soup or salad, followed by a platter of ‘tubers’ – white and sweet potatoes - with 3 sauces – diced black olives in olive oil, cilantro in olive oil, and some sort of cheese sauce.

Next was the main course and from several options: beef, trout, chicken, alpaca, lamb, and risotto; we all ordered grilled beef tenderloin. They were served medium rare as ordered along with bowls of more potatoes, a bowl of quinua (Andean corn served in a form much like grits with a distinctive, pleasing taste,) a bowl of stir-fried unfamiliar vegetables, and something named Solterito salad. I ate none of this but for a bite of the quinua and no more than 2 or 3 bites of my steak. Malc polished off both his and mine. (Quinua is a corn-like grain, the staple of the Andes and it is from it that pisco, their native liquor, is made.)

We then had several choices of desserts. I had ‘lucuma’ custard, a pudding much like butterscotch over a chocolate pudding topped with real whipped cream. And I had a cappuccino with it.

I too was now feeling ‘Montezuma’s revenge’ and had to rush to a banos.

We walked back to the room, collected our things and checked out. We walked slowly to the train station taking ramps wherever possible for Genny’s benefit (and mine though I attempted to conceal just how badly I felt.) We got there to find many others already there though we were some 30 minutes early. We were able to find Genny a seat near the banos. I was surprised to see that two or three of the parties who’d been at lunch with us were also taking the train. I don’t know why surprise since there is no other practical way to get to and from there but I guess I expected them to be traveling in more eloquent style.

OUR SECOND TRAIN TRIP

We boarded, this time on car B. Malc and I sat together; Barbara got two men to trade Genny and Barb’s assigned seats in front of us for the men’s seats at the rear next to the banos.

Our hosts were a most attractive young man and young lady. Both had black hair and eyes and were dressed immaculately. We weren’t too far along when they came with books to sell, then with a refreshment cart (and I had a Sprite,) and later they put on a fashion show displaying alpaca wool wraps, shawls, and sweaters. The little lady struck a pose for me each time she displayed a new item when she saw me taking photos; she was a petite beauty.

We had a bit more entertainment: a man dressed in Peruvian finery with his face completely covered with a knitted white mask danced up and down the aisles; in the fashion I’m sure of their shamans of old. This fellow also acted as porter for the car. We could see into Car A and I saw that they too had attendants putting on the same show; there was no passageway between cars.

It had gotten colder and was raining and the windows quickly fogged over so that we saw much less of the terrain than on our earlier trip. But, always in the canyon of the rushing river, we passed from jungle to a more desert like area interspersed with many areas of fertile valley with small farm plots filled with corn and potatoes for the most part. The housing was dreadful; mud brick walls with dirt streets, now mud due to the rain, jammed up against one another. And, in spite of the rain, the natives were working in their fields and herding their cattle. I saw no llamas or alpacas on this leg of our journey.

CUSCO (CUZCO IN OUR ATLAS)

Somewhere after we’d passed Ollantaytambo we had a switchback, where the train drives onto a siding, the switch is thrown, and it then backs onto a continuing track to the next such switch where the procedure is repeated until the train has ascended or descended a grade too steep to do it otherwise. We were climbing from something over 7,000 feet to over 11,000 feet altitude. This switchback was to climb higher. But in Cusco we came in high above the city below, now lighted since night had fallen, and we had two much longer switchbacks, both of these to go down in altitude. I asked and learned we had been 260 meters higher than the city; that would be some 850 feet. And the housing there seemed no better than what we’d seen in the rural areas, only crammed even more closely together and on streets so steep to seem unable to be walked on.

We found our guide Erica waiting for us, boarded her van and were driven to our hotel, the Best Western Los Andes Hotel, where we had left our luggage. Malc and Barb took room 209; we took 105 in order not to have to climb stairs.

We told Erica of Genny’s problem: vomiting and diarrhea, and she immediately called a doctor, told us he would be there in 20 minutes. And he was. He was Dr. Fernando (we were not to learn a last name until much later,) a short, stocky man I’d guess to be in his forties, with stiff, black hair. He spoke relatively good English, asked questions, took her temperature, pulse, and blood pressure, did some sort of test to check for dehydration, got her list of meds, and asked of any health problems, prior surgeries, illnesses, etc.

He said it was not altitude sickness but one of three things; a virus, what else I really can’t recall. He said she was severely dehydrated; needed to drink lots of fluids, and try to get some solid food down.

He gave her a shot of Dramamine which he said should stop any vomiting after 30 minutes and after an hour she should begin drinking a pedalite we had, said she might have to go to the clinic and he’d be there next morning at 9 to see how she was doing. He asked for and was paid $60 for ‘consultation’. He wrote a prescription he said the hotel could get for us and wrote out instructions for her care during the night.

He was off. Barbara (a nurse) insisted she stay with Genny and I didn’t disagree; I wasn’t feeling that well myself. Malc and I went to their room (that had 3 beds) and were immediately to bed and asleep.

Friday, Jan. 6. Los Andes Hotel, Cusco, Peru.

Malc, Barb, and I were up fairly early and had breakfast in the hotel. They had scrambled eggs, bacon, link sausage cut into little pieces, crepes, bread, cake, fruit, juices, cereal, and yogurt.

We learned Genny vomited little but heaved often, had continued to have diarrhea. The doctor arrived at 9:30 as he’d said he would, had a lady with him who took a blood specimen and stool sample for testing.

GENNY TO A HOSPITAL

He said we needed to take her to a clinic and we all waked half a block to his car (where he talked a policeman out of a ticket he was ready to write) and he took us to Clinica Pardo that was some distance from the hotel. There we rode the elevator to the fifth floor and room 505.

He and others quickly set up an IV, had an oxygen bottle (a huge thing) brought in and put her on oxygen. He collected another $30, said he would be back.

This was a nice, clean place, certainly not of the quality of our Austin hospitals but a place where I felt some confidence in their abilities and was pleased we were there rather than attempting treatment in the room as I had experienced.

Barb took care of things. She’d stayed with Genny, and then got with someone in administration to go over the insurance policy she had wisely, we now saw, purchased for just such a mishap. Apparently all expenses here at the hospital, for the doctor, and for meds, would be taken care of. Some contact was made with the insurance company who was to fax forms.

We hovered until near 12 when Barb insisted I needed to eat and likewise I, not her since she’d seen it on their earlier visit, should go with Malc to take the city tour already paid for.

So Malc and I took a cab (3 solis each time) back to the hotel where we ate in their downstairs dining room. Malc had a tenderloin steak sandwich; I had a chicken stuffed avocado. With tip our bill was 10 solis. At 3.42 solis per dollar, that comes to US$2.90.

A CITY TOUR OF CUSCO

Erica had told us she would see us at 1 for the tour and was there. She put us on a bus where we were the first occupants and drove to several hotels to pick up others until we had a full bus of about 24. I had wisely chosen the front row window seat on the right with Malcolm to my left and the guide asked that all use the same seats throughout the trip.

Our guide was Romolo, a short, stocky, black-haired, well-dressed man who I’d think to have been in his fifties. We learned he was from Machupicchu, that ‘his great uncle had been one of the native guides who took Bingham for his first sight of the ruins.’ He said history has it all wrong on Bingham’s contribution, that he had sacked the place. He had a book for sale on Machupicchu that he co-authored, said he had addressed the archaeologists of Harvard and was not well accepted since his version of the history disagreed with theirs. We had folks from many parts of the world and he told some from there that he had traveled to Taiwan and other Asian countries. Malc, who I believe was alone among us, bought one of the books.

Our itinerary for this trip lists La Cathedral, Santa Domingo Convent, Tambo Machay, Kenko, Sacsayhauman, and Pucapucara. I’m not that aware of what each was but we went first to a huge church that the Spaniards built on the stone foundation of an Inca place of worship after tearing the upper structure down, then to a grand, huge cathedral with three churches inside it, with much gold, sliver, and precious jewels. Both sites had signs saying no photography that a young Chinese girl from our group ignored in the first until called down by a guard and in the second Romolo told all that their cameras would be confiscated if used there. Sacsayhauman, since it sounds much like ‘sexy woman’, was memorable, a huge, flat, open site filled with walls of the typical, huge, finely matched stones without mortar. The other sites were more of the same and I stayed on the bus for the last one we drove to as well as a building visited filled with shops and supposedly the ‘factory’ where much of the souvenirs for sale everywhere were from.

At every stop were women and children dressed in ‘Inca costume’ with their hands out for money, offering to be photographed for money, or trying to sell souvenirs. Also for sale were tourist post cards with color scenes of local attractions to which had been pasted glossy color photos of each of our group, including Malc and me though I’d been unaware I’d been photographed. We did not make a purchase.

A man got on the bus at one stop with a DVD player playing a record with typical music and hundreds of photos, we were told and. They were $10; so far as I could tell he made no sales.

Romolo told us the population of Cusco to be 300,000.

We were back at the hotel a bit after 6. Malcolm called Barbara, learned the doctor had been there, maybe twice, had said Genny couldn’t possibly leave before Sunday, maybe later. She had talked to Erica who would take care of rescheduling our flights, hopefully so that Genny and I just change planes in Lima. The hotel had received the faxed forms from the insurance company. I used the hotel’s free Internet service and sent e/mail to friends to tell about Genny.

Malc and I took a cab to the clinic, found Genny looking much better but had still not eaten solid food, something she must do before the doctor will discharge her. Erica was there. She told us there is a $300 charge per person for changing our flights but insurance will reimburse. We can’t make such changes until we know when but Erica will keep in touch and take care of it when we know.

Barbara would have stayed with Genny but that would be costly and not fair to either of them so I insisted that I stay and they continue on schedule. And, since there was a bed in the room, I would stay there until we left. Erica said she’d bring our luggage there tomorrow but I needed to eat, Barb offered to help me pack, and we agreed to return to the hotel, pack, eat, and they‘d come back there with me.

We returned to the hotel where Barbara packed all our things and we got theirs and our stored luggage from the hotel. Malc and Barb said they would move to our room. I got our passports and our electronic tickets. We went down to the dining room and had dinner. Malc had mushroom soup, Barb had the stuffed avocado I’d had for lunch, and I had a grilled ham and cheese sandwich with fries (that Malc ate.)

Malc and Barb returned with me to the clinic where we visited a bit, and then said our good byes. We presumed I could bail us out of there and pay for airline changes with my credit card. Malc gave me some cash since my wallet was empty. I gave Steph’s number to Malc and they promised to call her when they got home.

It was 10 PM; we went right on to bed. The bed didn’t have a board under the mattress, just slats that I felt all through the night. I had my bad bed experiences on this trip.

Saturday, January 7, Clinica Pardo, Cusco, Peru.

I waked to a full sun coming in the window but found it to be just before 6 AM. I’d not gotten up when the older nurse who had tended Genny since her arrival bustled in. She spoke no English but smiled big and rattled on as if we might understand. She was there when we got there yesterday, as late as 10 last night and there again at 6 this morning. Barb had said she’d been in and out all day yesterday but came in once dressed up nice, otherwise always in green scrubs.

Genny’s IV had leaked and the nurse tended to that, injected something into the IV, and was off.

A maid came in and Genny sat in a chair while she changed sheets and made the bed. A man brought another bottle of oxygen. Another man came and cleaned the floors. A young lady wearing a mask brought Genny’s breakfast: dry toast, strawberry preserves, papaya juice, a cup of hot water and bags of clove and anis tea. I asked for café and she came back later with a tray for me of the same items she’d brought Genny except that my bread wasn’t toasted. I ate all of mine; Genny sipped her tea, had a swallow of juice, a corner of her piece of toast. Two other ladies came, couldn’t be made to understand the sheets had been changed and did them still again. The older nurse came once more, this time dressed as if for church.

Doctor Fernando came about 9, took readings, asked questions, and said we could leave today and should if we could arrange a flight but it would be OK to stay there another night if that not possible. He filled out the sheet needed for us to file for insurance, said we could fill out all else when we get home. He said he needed to know in the next hour or so what we meant to do, would make a doctor’s report for us to take with us.

The doctor inferred he was more concerned about altitude than the stomach disorder. From a brochure at Ollantaytambo I’d calculated the elevation at Cusco to be 11,100 feet. A travel brochure that came from National Geographic after we got home shows the altitude to be 12,925 feet.

I called Erica and told her what the doctor had told us. She called back shortly, had found the last flight that day to be at 12:30 PM and she could get us on it. That way we would be able to rejoin Malc and Barb in Lima, spend the night, and continue on with them tomorrow. We needed to purchase Cusco-to-Lima tickets, $100 plus for each of us, and she needed me to pay. She said she’d be there in 15 minutes or so; I presumed to take me with her to buy tickets.

The lady in the office made me a cup of coffee, that strong it could have flown us both home.

Two male doctors and a passel of ladies made what I guess would be called ‘rounds’. One doctor asked Genny a few questions; the other asked if our doctor had approved of our leaving today; I told him the plan. They moved on.

Erica came for me and we went in a cab she had waiting to the airport where I used my credit card and paid for tickets on flight 34 to Lima leaving at 12:35. The bill was $221.34 (not the $300 each she had said earlier.) I’d never have achieved this without Erica’s help.

We returned to the clinic to find Genny partially dressed. The doctor then came and gave me an itemized bill that totaled $826.41 over and above what we’d previously paid him ($90) and for meds ($ ? ). He had a bag of pills and written instructions for us to follow on taking the pills. Our check-through luggage had disappeared and we found that Erica had taken it to check through for us. She had also taken our passports I realized but the doctor called her and got my number, which he needed for assurance my credit card was good. He had to have VISA, not M/C; fortunately I had such.

The doctor had told us we’d be taken by ambulance but he took us in his car. He had his 8-year-old daughter in the front seat. He gave me his e/m address and asked that we let him hear how Genny got along. fertotem@hotmail.com. He wrote his full name down for me: Dr. Fernando Minzuro Zecenerro. (I sent him a note on Jan. 21.)

Erica was waiting for us at the airport, gave me our boarding passes with luggage receipts and our passports. I’d given her $40 to pay our departure taxes, which were $15 each so she returned $10; I took it and gave her $20 for her services. I hope that enough; she had surely been a help, but that left us just $10 to fly home with.

LIMA, PERU

Inside there were no wheelchairs but fortunately our gate was nearby and we walked to it and sat and waited. At the last minute they changed to the adjacent gate but the lady at the desk who I’d asked to let us board first and a young male steward helped Genny to our seats near the back of the plane.

I had a window seat and magnificent views, when the clouds didn’t blot them out, of steep, high, rugged mountains, with little villages, meandering huge rivers, even glimpses of snow-covered mountains. We were served a bun with ham and cheese and a small square of cake and soft drinks and coffee were offered.

In Lima, we waited to be last to get off. Fortunately there was a ‘bridge’ into the terminal, no stairs to descend to the tarmac. Again the young man helped Genny and when we asked for a wheelchair they called for one and the young man who brought it took us to the luggage carousel where we found our luggage waiting. In the outer lobby was man holding a sign: ‘Barbara Joyce’. He pushed our luggage out and the young man pushed Genny to the agent’s car in the lot out front. At this point I ran over to an exchange booth and converted my $10 to Solis; the only local money I ever had in either Bolivia or Peru. I tipped the young man with the chair.

There followed a rather wild ride of a good 30 minutes through a huge city our driver told us had a population of 8 million. We went through all kinds of neighborhoods: business, shops, malls, housing, through one area of big, high-dollar high-rise apartments and then into Miraflores where our hotel, Miraflores Colon Hotel was located. Everything seemed a notch above anything in either Santa Cruz or Cusco but there was if anything even more of a police presence everywhere. Our hotel was a posh place just a block or so from the beachfront and some 10 or 11 stories high, surrounded by similar buildings. A slim, older, black bellboy took our luggage. We showed our passports and signed in. Our driver was concerned about when our flight left the next day; I assured him that Barbara would have already talked to their folks and made arrangements. We asked, confirmed them to have checked in. He called someone, seemed satisfied, bid us goodbye.

Our bellboy took us to our room, #603, with big windows on two walls though neither with views of the ocean but rather of the high-rise buildings of the city with mountains in the distance. There were two double beds, a swank bath (though the shower was in a tub that Genny couldn’t possibly negotiate), no table but a chair, a wardrobe, a chest with a mirror over it, a ceiling mounted TV, and a bar that the bellboy carefully took inventory of.

It was 3 PM. Genny was immediately to bed and asleep.

There was a view of the ocean from the lobby at the elevator on our floor; the sky was filled with hang gliders, all carrying two passengers. A gray haired lady from Wisconsin we’d visited with at Machupicchu had told of riding such here just days earlier.

As we’d driven through town, in one area was a McDs, a Blockbuster, a Pappa John’s Pizza, KFC, TGI Friday’s and other known American fast food places. There were also many huge casinos. With neon covered façades.

I went down to the hotel’s bar, was the only guest, and had a vodka martini that cost $6 or 21 solis; I gave him all I had; 22. So much for my converted money – or any cash from that point.

Malc and Barb knocked on our door about 6, had made the city tour. They were in the room next door.

DINNER AT THE AL FRESCO SEAFOOD RESTAURANT

Just at dark, Malc, Barb, and I walked to the ocean front, a cliff high above a black sand beach below, where Malc pointed out the walk they’d taken down to the ocean and been mugged on their way to a big restaurant out on a pier in 2001. We walked a couple blocks along on a sidewalk bordered with flowers, statuary, and lovers, to Al Fresco, a seafood restaurant recommended to them.

We all had pisco sours served with hot, tiny bread rolls. Malc had tuna tenderloin, Barb had ceviche, I had ‘five flavors’ which was fried shrimp, calamari, octopus, and scallops broiled in shells topped with cheese. We visited there with a couple from Hawaii seated at the next table who had ridden down on the elevator with us at our hotel and taken a cab. They were small people but had several drinks and several courses, had started before us, were still putting it away when we left. He, at least, had done lots of travel, was a mountain climber, and a talker to top the writer. We walked back to our hotel in darkness. I was ever mindful of Malc and Barb having been mugged here.

We were to bed about 11. I had a call at 10:30 from our travel agent confirming we were to be picked up at 4 AM. We left a call for 3 AM.

Sun., Jan. 8. Room 603, Miraflores Hotel, Lima, Peru.

OFF FOR HOME

I waked at 3 AM though the desk didn’t call until 3:30.

A bellhop came for our bags and the tour’s driver was there promptly at 4 and drove us in a van to the airport. Nightclubs, casinos, and restaurants were still open everywhere and doing a booming business - at 4:30 in the morning!

A wheelchair was brought for Genny, and we got first class attention getting into the terminal, through lines, and were boarded first. The clerk at the desk looked and spoke English like an American and we presumed him to be one only to find he wasn’t, said being able to speak was a requirement of the job and he’d been to the States just once for 2 weeks. He showed himself when he had a problem saying ‘Murray’ and that was when Malc quizzed him.

We had a 5-hour flight with a big breakfast of an omelet with sliced, big link sausage and tomato, roll with butter and jelly, and a bowl of watermelon and cantaloupe. Genny, hardly able to even look at food, ate part of her fruit and had water. Malc ate her omelet. I ate most of mine and had both coffee and orange juice. We watched the movie ‘A Beautiful Mind’.

In Miami, we were met by a wheelchair for Genny, taken through having to collect our bags and carry them through customs. From Miami, we had a 3-hour flight to Dallas.

In Dallas we had to get from A-27 to D-40. Wheelchairs came to the plane’s door for us, then we bid Malc and Barb goodbye since we had to go to different gates and got on an electric cart that drove what seemed miles to an elevator to near D-40, walked there, and learned the gate had been changed to 33. I got a wheelchair and pushed Genny there.

They boarded us early, even offered and changed our seats to just behind the bulkhead behind First Class – as we’d had from Miami. We had an aisle seat and one next to it; a man next to the window had an in-training Seeing Eye dog with him, visited and told me he had lived for 2-years in Sydney, Australia, and had worked as teacher in Viet Nam, currently lived in Cedar Park.

We were met in Austin by a wheelchair for Genny and it is a long walk here as well. We got our luggage; Jerry Johnson came in to meet us and carried our luggage to their pickup. 8-year-old great grandson Jake ran to meet us with great pleasure and a big hug but was quick to ask ‘what did you bring me?’

They took us home where we went through our bags, gave Jake some of his presents and Steph her Bolivianita jewelry. Mel was there and Jake was immediately out playing with his train. They were off at 10, Genny was immediately to bed, but reminded me to call Malc and Barb; I did, spoke with Malc who said they had just gotten in no more than 15 minutes earlier. I was up until 11.

****

Genny’s illness went away in short order. My unsteadiness was we learned, as well as altitude, caused by something a lot more serous and lasting: kidney failure induced anemia and I would be on dialysis before year end.

This was for the most part a highly interesting, exciting trip; unfortunately Genny’s getting ill, as had my doing so in 2001, spoiled the last of it, particularly for her but for the others as well since Barbara pitched in to help and missed some of the tours. Though, but for a bit of diarrhea, I stayed well, it was more than evident that both of our physical conditions are way past such highly active, physical adventures. Machupicchu was a long-desired trip and though neither of us saw that much of it, it was a goal accomplished. I in no way regret having gone except for feeling blame at having subjected Genny to the last part of it.

Obviously, even if age and other health problems were not facing us to insure our inability to, we’d better not ever try anything that strenuous again, have to be happy with the travel – and it is sizeable – we have been able to do in the past, revel in reading my journals and looking at our photos, and look elsewhere for pleasure in the future.

HHopefully this account shows the true value of having travel disruption insurance and a travel agent involved to step in and help in emergencies such as we had on the first and last trips. We would have had much difficulty without them.

Murray Joyce

Austin, Texas

Edited July 26, 2008

From the Internet:

Lucuma, the fruit

lucuma fruit
Lucuma is a delicately flavored tropical fruit native to the cool highlands of South America. It is hardly possible to describe its flavor or aroma, but definitely it is one of my favorites. To get a taste of the fresh fruit you have to visit Peru in the summer months, from January to April in South America. If you go to Peru, remember to ask for lucuma ice cream made with the fresh fruit. It is just the best.

I know there are some people trying to grow this fruit in the USA but don't really know if you can find it fresh anywhere. Although never the same, the best option you have in USA is to get it in its dehydrated form as lucuma flour or powder used for making ice creams. If you know anyone selling the fruit or the flour, be sure to let us know!

The scientific name for this fruit is (Pouteria Obovata Baehni) and it grows best at altitudes above 1,000 m. It has an ovoid shape 5 to 8 cm long, and when ripe it shows a green yellowish color. Pealing its thin skin reveals a dry and starchy orange-yellow flesh. Peru and Chile are the main producers and the bulk of the production is used in dehydrated form. Only a small percentage reaches the local markets to be consumed fresh. Once dehydrated, the lucuma powder is mainly used to flavor ice creams and other milk products.

QUINOA (quinua)

QUINOA REAL, because of its nutritive importance, is one of the main source of PROTEINS with 12.5 a 15%, as average and can be compared with other food such as milk, meat, eggs and others.

QUINOA REAL, characterizes itself, more than the quantity, for the quality of its proteins given by the essential amino acids such as: isoleucine leucine, lysine, metionine, fenilalanine, treonine, triftófane y valine. Concentration of lysine in the protein of the quinoa is almost twice in comparison to the cereals and minerals.


In addition of the B Complex Vitamins, it contains C and E vitamins, tiamine, riboflavin among others.

Those who, because of some reasons that cannot have milk and dairy products can find in the quinoa the ideal substitute of calcium.

IT DOES NOT CONTENT CHOLESTEROL, IT DOES NOW ALLOW TO KEEP FAT IN THE BODY, DUE TO THE PRESENCE OF NON-SATURATED OLIC ACIDS IS PRACTICALLY ZERO. IT MAKES DIGESTION EASIE

No comments: