Jacinta Whitcome:

For blog with photos click here http://depressionistlettersandpoetics.blogspot.com/2010/04/macchu-picchu-we-live-on-planet.html

For Shane

When I was a child I would sit down on a hill slope in front of my cousins house and look at the skyline. My parents had rented an apartment above the garage there and the farm had about 200 acres along with it. I can remember exploring and even more the emotional craving for more exploration, further exploration and solitary exploration. When I would sit and watch the world, like I did on the slope, it would dawn on me beyond the sky was space and planets and stars, but the greatest most thrilling realization was that I, myself, lived on a planet. I had heard of atoms by the age of 4, most likely, and the idea of 'being made of something' entertains me to this day and I thought of the world as an atom building   

The world seemed gigantic until I thought about it in terms of the solar system. When my mother and I arrived in Peru, however, the world again seemed gigantic and I felt a part of a colossal, matrioshka-ish, world. Mountains have a way with your self-perception that is similar to the socialist ideal of the relationship of the individual to the community.  One is not made insignificant but is somehow put into place by the very sight of the mountains. 

It was on the second day of our trip, at the hotel in Cusco that I realized the enormity of the mountains was distilled in the people who breathed the air of the Andes, whether they were native to Peru or not. Our hotel was just off of a quiet square. When we woke up in the morning we went out to 'lobby' of the hotel which was an open air courtyard a man with a quiet smile gently gestured to a tea pot and told us he had just heated some water for tea. When we went over to the tea-stand we saw tea cups, packets and some loose leaves in a woven basket. “Ahh...” I thought, “and there is the famous coca.” It looked so harmless there in its naked unprocessed body. I would come to learn that the relationship that many Peruvians have to coca is very different from  those who regulate it. I gladly and freely picked up 3 leaves, as the hotel employee had recommended and dropped them into the steaming water. Before sitting down I took a sip...the taste was strong and strange but not entirely unpleasant. I decided on some sugar, which is raw in Peru, took some extra leaves and sat down with my mom. The gentleman had told us that our travel agency was going to meet with us at 9:00 and so we sat in the sun, relaxing and drinking our tea like the European conquistadors must have done. Part of me felt strange and indulgent even accepting my mom's invitation to come on the trip but I was there for her, as part of her birthday wish and new that I had better just be grateful and light and not let any feelings of guilt influence my ability to enjoy my time with my mother. 

Our agent, Allison met us gave us some brochures and things explaining that the day had been fully planned for us but we could do as we pleased. She knew we were both ill with airlessness, oxygen depletion and did not seem surprised when we opted out of the pre-set plans and decided to spend the day on our own terms, photographing and exploring the city. She gave us some ideas for places with interesting photographic subjects, places she enjoyed the most in town. She seemed cool and I found myself wishing she would come with us and hang out with us, talking about her life here; I guess a little part of that wish was the nosy folk-songwriter in me. 

We eventually got ready with our cameras and plastic baggies full of coca leaves and left the hotel, a little light on our feet I must say. The coca leaves were supposed to help with indigestion, nausea and diarrhea, and they seemed to be working...kinda. We stepped out into the lower square which opened up to a view that spread out into the surrounding mountains.  The mountains that surround Cuzco give the same effect to the bustle of the city as a french horn solo gives to an ensemble piece: they float over everything, slowly, gliding over the faster tempo of people. 

We were assaulted by street-vendors just then: Women and children dressed in traditional Inca clothing with real live alpachas, lamas, and baby goats. There is nothing like a baby goat and little girls in brightly colored dresses to bring out the cameras. Snapshots made a symphony of there own in Peru. But...we were professionals, or mom is anyhow. We whipped our our glorious Nikons and began a day filled with colors and sounds of this strange, new world.