Monday, July 23: Rio Urubamba and Ollantaytambo
Rafting on the Rio Urubamba
Kitty had heard that river rafting on the Rio Urubamba was good, and had asked Jose to include that in our trip package. We had breakfast at 9:00 a.m. At 10:15, Rani walked Kitty and I to the main road where we caught our bus to the river rafting center. At the center, we were asked to go into changing rooms and put on wetsuits, jackets, life vests and helmets provided by the rafting company. We grabbed the lightest paddles we could and received our basic paddling lesson. The whole process—the drive, the changing, the lessons—seemed to take forever.
Finally, we got into the raft. There were four rafts going downstream at the same time. In our raft there were six people: our guide, me, Kitty, a guy from France, and two guys from Canada. Our raft was called “Puno”. I didn’t dare try to take pictures on the trip, and didn’t think to give my camera to the bus driver to take pictures. I didn’t know he would be following us and coming to the water’s edge periodically. Thus, I only have pictures in my mind, like the view of the brown rocky mountains 20,000 feet high above us as we wound our way through the valley. We saw sheep, pigs, cows, and one duckling. Children waved to us from bridges. Our guide pointed out Inca ruins as well: terrazas where food had been cultivated; bridges built by the Incas; and food storage buildings (colcas) thousands of feet up.
Other memories were more emotional in nature. I still remember the chill of the water splashed on us by the raft of crazy Dutch boys during one of several “attacks” during the trip. I remember the fun of raising our paddles in the air in the middle, shouting, “1, 2, 3, Puno!” and then smacking our paddles on the water. (Well, my paddle simply went “thud”, but I heard the smack of the guide’s paddle behind me.) I remember the exhilaration of getting through Class 1, then 2, then 3 rapids without overturning or breaking our heads or necks, though Kitty and I spent most of the last rapid tucked inside the boat for safety. We kept paddling anyway. I also remember the shock of watching Kitty take the plunge into that cold water when we reached the end of our ride and the guide said that it was okay to jump in.
We got onto dry land and waited another interminable length of time while the gear was gathered and loaded on our bus. We were surprised when the guides asked us to change out of our wetsuits even though our endpoint didn’t have changing rooms. Kitty and I had to use the bus as a changing room. We tried to pick a time when it was ladies-only on the bus, but the first time we got on we nearly caught a Dutchman in his birthday suit, and if the Frenchman had gotten on the bus a minute earlier, he would have caught me in mine.
Our bus took us back to the starting point for a lunch of soup, lukewarm chicken and rice, and bananas. Kitty nearly choked on the chicken, but one of the rafters knew the Heimlich maneuver and saved her life.
Ollantaytambo
Kitty and I left before dessert was over. Our second tour guide, Ana Maria, was waiting to take us for our tour of Ollantaytambo. It is a small town allegedly named after an Inca general, Ollanta, and means “Ollanta’s place of rest.” Not a place of rest like a grave, but a place to stop and rest for the night.
Our main stop (besides the small but lovely handicrafts market of Ollantaytambo) was the Inca fortress, home to a myriad of microclimates and structures. The most imposing image was the pyramid of stones and grass. I hiked to the top and got my picture taken. We also saw trapezoid-shaped stone doors and water canals cut directly into the cobblestone. There were grassy streams, and a hundred yards away there were cacti and mountain chaparral.
At one point, we saw two women and two young children, all wearing woven red clothing. Some of their hats had flowers in them. The children wanted to sing for us (for a tip, of course). We asked them to follow us to a bench where we could sit and rest and listen to the song. The little girl was nervous, though. Apparently, we were close to another singer’s territory, and she was afraid he would get mad at her. So she didn’t sing as loudly or clearly as the boy (her brother, perhaps)? But it was cute nonetheless and Kitty gladly gave them each 1 sol as a propino (tip) for their trouble.
We finished walking around the fortress and then went to the market, a small maze of cobblestones and huts with straw roofs. I bought quite a few nice things there.
A Fleecing of a Different Kind?
We found our taxi and Ana Maria again, and went back to the Hosteria for a nap and Pisco sour. Jose came into the living room to give us our train tickets and explain the procedure for the next morning. Kitty and I were both aghast and agape when he handed us tickets for the Backpacker train. We had assumed (foolishly) that for the amount of money we were paying, we would be taking the Vistadome train. Our train tickets were only $57 each round trip. The entrance into Ollantaytambo, which was included in our package, was only $20 each. Where had the rest of our money gone?
Kitty bravely went to Jose and Irene after dinner and asked them for an itemized bill. Irene had the same look on her face that we must have when we saw our Backpacker train tickets. The next morning, Jose handed it to us in an envelope. Irene was not there to say goodbye.
Looking at the list, some aspects of the trip seemed reasonable, such as the rafting trip and the tour of Cuzco (which Kitty knew was expensive). Our hotel in Aguas Calientes was also expensive based on the signs we saw later at the hotel. But we still figured out we paid $85 a night for our Rumichaca room which did not have a TV or a space heater. And we were charged $20 each above that for our 3-course meals. Later I learned that the meal price was about right for Aguas Calientes, but that is right next to Machu Picchu. It seemed excessive for where we were, though some of that must have gone to pay for the servants and their white gloves. Even the taxis were overpriced. My taxi from Cuzco to the airport was listed as 10 dollars, but Kitty knew from experience it was not more than 10 soles.
To sum up, I guess if you are totally new to Peru and are willing to pay above and beyond for the convenience of having everything pre-arranged, then Hosteria Rumichaca is an okay place to be. For experienced travelers in the region, I could not strongly recommend it and I say regretfully that I would not plan to stay there again. I would consider staying again at their sister guesthouse in Cuzco (though I wonder if $50 a night was a fair deal), and take the train or a taxi from there to Ollantaytambo and stay in a hotel there. I would use Ollantaytambo or Cuzco as a base to take tourist trips to Pisac and the church in Chinchero, a sight Kitty was disappointed we missed.
Tags: hotel, Peru, rafting, ruins, Sacred Valley, Travel
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