Cantos by Ericka Koehler

When I was child, I discovered a city with giant rocks, surrounded by a green forest, on the top of a mountain near the sky. The name of this place is Machu Pichu which in Quechua language means “old mountain” (“Britannica: Machu Picchu,” p.1).

I remember it like it was yesterday.

“Ericka. Come here! Do you remember the story I told you about the Incan city?” My mom asked me.

“Yes!” I exclaimed excitedly and started jumping on the bed.

“Tomorrow, we will be there. Tomorrow afternoon,” she replied.

I stopped jumping, sat on the bed, and watched every detail of what she was doing. She grabbed a brown backpack near the TV desk and began to pack it with three small ponchos, three pairs of gloves, three small “chullos” (known as Alpaca wool hats), six pants, socks, shirts, a pacifier for my sister and some diapers for my brother. I am sure of that; I knew how to count. Everything had been purchased on the walk to the San Blas market, north downtown Cusco.

Mom, Dad, my sister, my brother, and nanny Olivia were on the trip. When my mom finished packing, we went to a restaurant in downtown Cusco to eat early and drink coca tea for the “soroche,” a word that people mentioned a lot to refer to the altitude sickness (“Merriam-Western Dictionary,” p.1).

I am a complainer by nature and have always questioned everything.

“Do I have to drink all that weird tea?” I asked my mom so many times that her face started changing colors from red to blue.

“Silence kid!” She said to me while I took a big breath and crossed my arms.

“Yes, Ericka. Drink everything. Obey your mom.” Nany Olivia said to me as she patted my head.

I finished the tea and received applause from everyone, including my brother who still couldn’t speak. Meanwhile nearby musicians played songs with quenas or indigenous flutes (“Merriam-Webster Dictionary: Quena,” p.1).

Next day, we woke at 5:00 a.m., got ready for the trip, and an hour later, took a taxi to the train station. It was necessary to be there half an hour before the train arrived. We had enough time. There were so many people, we were all packed together in an ocean of humanity waiting for the train. Our train ride would last three and a half hours.

Before the train arrived, my mom went into a small store or “bodega” as Peruvians call it. She knew us very well and knew that the trip was very long for small children. So, she bought some cookies, chocolates, juices, and pieces of homemade cake made by the indigenous people of that area. She paid for them and put them in the backpack until the sound of the train was heard in the distance.

“Choo choo woo woo…Choo woo woo” I heard.

The sounds beat my ears like drums. It was going to be the first time I got on a train and I was curious and excited.

My father is 5’9’’ and the man with the ticket was a full head taller than my father. I remember looking at him from the bottom to the top and I felt like David in front of Goliath. He was wearing a scarf, dressed in blue and asked everyone to line up, show their ticket, and go inside the train in silence.

“How serious!” I thought to myself.

Finally, my family boarded the train. I asked for the window seat to watch the city and the people from the station disappear as the train moved on.

“Did Hiram Bigham take a train like me to go to Machu Pichu?” I asked to myself.

Believe me, I was that kind of kid that asked a lot of questions.

“Mom, did Hiram Bingham take the train like us?” I asked her.

My mom made a lost face, maybe she was thinking or just didn’t know what to tell me. She didn’t answer.

Nowadays, there are trains with the name of Hiram Bingham from the luxury company of Belmond that takes you to Machu Picchu (“Andean Explorer,” p.1).

I remember pressing my nose and part of my face to the window like an octopus. Meanwhile, the train was jumping up and down and shaking as my nanny Olivia told me to be careful to not hurt myself.

And the adventure began. The train went up and up the mountains. Our tour would be long, and we would pass the Urubamba River and arrive to the town of Aguas Calientes. We were going to climb to more than 8000 meters above sea level (Orr, p.49).

We arrived approximately 10:30 am. and the place was packed with tourists. I was near 7 years old and I remember the journey did not end there. We had to take a bus to get to Machu Picchu. So, we did. While the bus was going along the road named Hiram Bingham after the famous discoverer, the sun seemed to come timidly until we reached the entrance of the place.

“We are here Machu Picchu!” My mom said and we all clapped.

After entrance checking, we all walked for about five minutes through various parts. We had not bought a tour with a specific guide since my mother said she knew the history of various objects well.

She repeated that Hiram Bingham, who was an American archaeologist, discovered that city in 1911. Machu Picchu was covered by wild plants from the area. It is at a high altitude, but that part is not exclusively mountainous, there is vegetation since it’s near the jungle. Therefore, it is not strange that time has done its thing and the plants have decided to cover the place. Apart from wild animals and insects, without cleaning the area no one would dare to go there.

But my father is like me, we rarely settle for a single answer, so he decided to chase a crowd and took me and my sister with him while my mom and nana talked and walked at a snail’s pace carrying my little brother.

“Here! Girls, listen!” My dad said.

“This man knows” He said.

The man was a tour guide. He was short, with small eyes, black hair, a big nose and a mestizo appearance named Miguel who claimed to be a direct descendant of one of the Incas of the Inca Empire. He claimed to know the story of the Incan Empire, also known as “Tahuantinsuyo.”

Miguel spoke and moved his hands. Miguel said that the city had magical powers and that the sun and the moon were the gods that protected the city. The one who provided them with food was Mother Earth, whom they called Mama Pacha or Pachamama in the Quechua language.

From time to time some residents near the area still made offering rituals to Mama Pacha. They sacrifice guinea pigs and alpacas so that Mama Pacha is happy and gives the people an abundance of food.

“Offering? What’s that?” I asked my dad.

“Present. It’s a gift, Ericka.” He replied.

I looked at Miguel carefully, I wanted to know more. Until he told us to turn around and look at the mountain near Machu Picchu. The name is Huayna Picchu, which in Quechua language means “young mountain.”

“There, it was the place where the highest priest lived.” Miguel said.

“Look at it very well! It has the face of a condor!” He said.

I tried to recognize any face in that mountain, and I couldn’t. But I believed it.

My sister was getting tired of being on her feet, she wanted to play and walk, and Dad told us that we had to go look for Mom. On our way we saw her. She was taking pictures with my little brother and nanny. So, we did the same.

“Ericka, stay there!” Mom said.

She took a picture of me standing in front of a big window made of rocks.

After that, my siblings and I started playing inside a room made of rocks with many windows and no roof. The aroma of grass was felt and some butterflies appeared. We tried to chase them with no luck. Moments later, we kept walking, and I felt that I no longer had strength, I was tired and lacked oxygen.

We arrived at a big door, “what is this?” I asked.

“It’s La Puerta del Sol (Sun Gate)” My mom said.

The cameras did not stop flashing. We took many photos, and the tourists behind us too. We stayed for a while resting near the place. We were sitting on a stone and looking at the panorama. People going up and down the mountain and the llamas walking peacefully everywhere. I had noticed that some stairs were normal size and others very big and high.

“Why are some stairs very high?” I asked for.

“Because the Incas were giants” My mom said.

“Giants!” I exclaimed.

My head kept imagining tall men walking around the city and lifting those big stones.

Machu Picchu’s construction is from the 1400’s (“Machu Picchu is more Ancient than What Experts Previously Thought,” 2022). The city is built of giant blocks of polished stones. It is a place that was used for religious ceremonies, agriculture, and home of religious specialists. It was considered a seasonal residence for the Inca Pachacutec. Once the Spaniards arrived in the 1500’s, and the last Inca was killed, the city was abandoned and soon covered in plants to avoid the destruction and looting by the Spanish people.

My mom explained to us that Centuries passed and the rumor of the existence of a lost city in Cusco, Peru, reached the ears of the American explorer, Hiram Bingham.

In his travel to Peru, Bingham contacted some indigenous people of the area and asked them about this city. The group went to the mountains near the Urubamba River and explored the area. Finally, they found the city that was covered by plants and the passage of time.

After Bingham gathered support to recover the city, more expeditions and foreign academics helped to repair Machu Picchu and study its culture and origin.

We decided to return to our walk, and my siblings and I began to play who screams the loudest. In this process, the echo of our voices was heard.

Then, we saw a big rock, we climbed it and we started to slide from there as if it were a swing. We were playing happily until we heard a scream of caution.

“What are you doing? Don’t jump out there!” My mom said.

My little brother froze with fear after the scream and lost his balance. I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t. I had no strength. Then my dad showed up as Superman and rescued us from a possible fall.

I remember my dad reprimanding my mom and the nanny. Then, he hugged us tight and calmed us down.

Some minutes later, he started playing with us. I remember being so happy playing around the ruins with my siblings and my father, and we all dressed in the typical clothing in striking red, orange and green colors.

After this, I remember that we all continued exploring the place, walking to a place called “Intihuatana,” which is a large stone, and the indigenous people recognize it as an astronomical clock or calendar. We took more photos there and time fell short.

Our water bottles were almost finished and we all wanted to have lunch. So, we said goodbye to the place promising that we would come back one more time.

Mr. Bingham might feel proud if he was still alive. The city was a sleeping beauty all covered in wild plants. Now it is clean, totally restored, and famous around the world.

But things didn’t go smoothly for many decades. Yale University and the Peruvian government had disputes over the archeological artifacts Bingham found when cleaning the city. It has taken many years where little by little Peru recovered some artifacts from Yale.

And time flies. Today, it’s the first day of September 2020 and the fourth time that I am here, in Machu Picchu.

Yale University and the San Antonio Abad University of Cusco decided to sign an agreement to build a museum and conservation center in Cusco to celebrate the 100-year anniversary of Bingham’s expeditions in Machu Picchu in 2011 (Regalado, p.1).

Despite the fights they had, this does not detract from the work that Bingham had in the reconstruction and care of this historical site which is considered a cultural heritage of humanity.

Pablo Neruda was right; you can feel the immortality in that place (Ekiss, p.33).

I miss the old times. I miss nanny Olivia; she went to heaven five years ago. I miss my brother and sister playing hide and seek in the Intihuatana clock. I miss my father playing with us and rescuing us from the Machu Picchu abysses like Superman.

Yes, I remember everything like it was yesterday.

The cold wind hits my face hard like a hug followed by a big kiss. But I will be fine, I have my multicolor poncho from San Blas market, and I drank my coca tea before coming here.

In this foggy morning, a shy condor flies by, spreads its wings, and then flies away.

“-I love you old mountain, I know I will come back again-”.