Turn Right at Machu Picchu: Rediscovering the Lost City One Step at a Time

by Mark Adams

The absolute ruler of it all was the Sapa Inca, a hereditary monarch whose power derived not only from his parentage but from his religious status as the son of Inti, the sun god. So divine was the Inca’s person that everything he touched—whether the clothing he wore only once or the bones of meat he’d consumed—was ritualistically burned each year.

“What would you say if I told you I wanted to quit my job and go follow in the footsteps of the guy who found Machu Picchu?” “I guess . . .” She paused. Somewhere in the background, an angry kitten meowed. “I guess I’d say, ‘What took you so long?’”

misanthrope.

The Long Walk,

If you have no clean water, take some dirty water and filter out all the bits with one of your socks. Leave the bottle out in the sun for six hours, and the UV rays will kill all the bugs. I’ve used that one a couple of times.”

“Chew it until it’s almost a mush, then stick it between your cheek and gum.”

John blew on his spoonful of soup and reached for his pen. “What’s a chili cook-off?”

Their hearts and lungs are larger, which is why so many Andeans have barrel chests like stevedores;

“I’ve got a small suggestion, Mark,” John said. “This time, chew your coca thoroughly for a few minutes and then give it another chew occasionally. It’s supposed to dissolve in your mouth.”

When John inquired how their honeybees were doing, Fructoso stood up and asked excitedly, “You want some honey?” Before we could politely decline, he dispatched one of his sons to fetch some. The son returned with a ten-gallon bucket filled almost to the top with honeycombs. “Eat! Eat! It’s fresh! It’s fresh!” Fructoso’s wife said encouragingly, clapping her tiny hands. John eagerly stuck his hand in and yelled, “Yagh!” The honey was fresh all right. It still had bees in it.

In Kant’s epistemology, it meant something limitless, an aesthetically pleasing entity so huge that it made the perceiver’s head hurt. Machu Picchu isn’t just beautiful, it’s sublime.

Should you find yourself in Cusco en route to Machu Picchu, I highly recommend that you stop for a drink at the Cross Keys Pub.