Tanya Travels to...

We get off the train at our station. My husband/Sherpa and I are the only two passengers to get off the crowded train from Machu Picchu. The driver of the lone car parked outside gives us the once-over.
Sherpa loads the car and we’re off. It’s been exhilarating and exhausting. All things worthwhile are. It’s time for the vacation from our vacation.
We arrive at an intricate gate complete with smiling bellboy outside. Everyone and everything in the lobby is chic and pristine, with two exceptions. The exceptional husband gets us checked in. We are given the spiel as we are escorted to our room. No other hotel guest crosses our path. Perhaps we are being taken through the back way so as not to offend anyone with mud stained clothes and my currently very man smelling man.
After showers and a power nap we emerge from our bed with a heavy gold gilt headboard. Time to explore the luxury that is Aranwa. Surrounded by the mountains of the Sacred Valley we ramble through courtyard after courtyard littered with a designers dream of art, furniture and calla lilies. All the while feeling that something is unusual here.
Over a meal of Lomo Saltado we discuss our new found calm. Maybe our peace is the result of being catered to by not one but two waiters in an empty restaurant. In fact this glorious, five star paradise is currently occupied by a full staff, three lamas and yours truly.
An entire resort to oneself is reserved for the rich, the famous and on this day the ridiculously lucky. Luck always runs out, but tonight we feast like royalty.
The next day our morning is spent riding horses. As we trot along the husband and I notice that we are both sounding different. Our newfound privilege has us speaking an alien tongue. I consider calling him Binky. In my mind it would be perfectly reasonable to call someone Binky with my poshest of posh accents.
Binky and I return to our private residence and our good fortune remains. We enjoy the now private pool, feast some more, then head off for hours of pampering at the spa that other spas dare only dream about.
That night at dinner another couple walks in dumbfounded. I remark that this place has lost its appeal since they now let anyone in. Binky agrees. Good thing we are leaving tomorrow.
The next day we are driven back to the train station. A porter comes by to take our luggage. We wave him off. May Binky rest peacefully. My Sherpa is back in business and we lug our baggage to the coach class train car.