home is where your suitcase is

The views, the cliffs, the towns, and the weather were constantly changing as we went up and down the mountains in a tiny one-lane road. I close my eyes now and I can see the Sacred Valley and the ruins in the distance, I can smell the rain and feel the cool air, and then the heat, coming through the open window. The microclimates and the mountains were extreme and breathtaking.
We arrived to where our three hour hike would begin ahead of us on the train tracks. We made friends with some of the other travelers and we started the walk full of excitement and energy, just before the last train cleared the tracks for our journey.
To tell you it stated raining is an understatement; it poured non stop. The fog and the rain were so thick it was hard to make anything of the view and the scenery. As we continue walking, we started to realize we weren’t going to make it before dark, and that it wasn’t going to stop raining anytime soon.
The sky got darker, the walk harder, and the moods heavier. After going in and out of a few “no pedestrians” tunnels in the complete dark, and knowing we had missed all of the shortcuts, the town lights dimly started to show. There it was: Aguas Calientes.
Upon arrival we were welcomed by two friends we have made earlier that day.They were cheering for us, and this was all we needed to regain our excitement: WE HAD MADE IT, and someone was there to celebrate with us.
If you can understand the length and depth of our journey, and imagine what it was like to spend the whole day traveling to this place, only then you can imagine us jumping in excitement and hugging each other in our wet giant ponchos. It was as if we instantly forgot how wet, cold, tired, and high in altitude we were. It didn’t matter that we had nowhere to sleep that night, or that the ancient ruins of Machu Picchu awaited exploration the next day. None of it mattered because we all had made it, and we were spending together a moment in time we would always remember.
So we forgot about altitude sickness, and bundled up in whatever dry clothes we could find. We sat under a tin roof watching the rain and the beer pour, discussing economics, politics, South and North America, and everything in between. We sang songs, and we greeted travelers as they arrived.
You can drink beer anywhere, but there is something magical about sharing important moments with complete strangers. The journey itself and the people we met is what made arriving to Machu Picchu pueblo so perfect.