I made the right decision in coming back to Cusco. I have been thinking, yesterday and today as I have been walking the streets, that this really is one of my favorite places in the world. I remember quite liking Prague in the Czech Republic and Oporto in Portugal. I also loved Wellington in New Zealand and Livingstone in Zambia. Cusco is at the top of that list somewhere...impossible to compare, but up there for sure. Cusco has this feeling of calm that wells up from it. Even now with the rain falling and the skies gray, it feels like a good place to be. I woke up this morning, warm in my pile of woolen blankets, looking out my window across the valley of old houses and buidings. From my street up above the city, you can see the birds flying against the gray sky and the steeples of the vast old churches...built on the foundations of the Inca temples before them. They seem so sturdy and strong despite weathering such a climate at this elevation. The people in the streets bustle along, or better said, there is a bustle in the streets, but it doesn't have that same frantic aspect to it that other places down here do. You see so much color in these caminos and calles, old and young, modern and ancient, all juxtaposed. The air has the frequent aroma of woodsmoke and the plazas smell of flowers and cigars. There is a lot of water moving in Cusco...an element of life, the element of survival and flourishing. The streets are cobbled in a lot of the city, and the car tires make a slapping sound as they cross them at velocity. The air is chilly now, normal for this time of year. It feels good against the skin of my face and the rain isn't so cold yet. And I can't forget to mention that the food is great...
I realize coming back here that I like this place more and more. I realize too that my face gives me away as a foriegner, despite my inner feeling of closeness with the place and it's people. I still wear the mask of the conqueror...and that is a bummer. It bums me out at times. I feel good coming back here and want to talk to people in a way that implies familiarity, but it turns out that I am still just another gringo face. Oh well.
Then there is the idea of going back to a place. Gabe and I talked about this quite a bit. There is a feeling that one gets sometimes when coming back to a foriegn city or place...a feeling of let down. Maybe because it is familiar and doesn't inspire the same feeling of excitement that it did last time and maybe that you hoped it would have again. You can't reproduce old experiences in new circumstances. You can feel the memories, and those can trigger something in the present that may be similar, but it is a new time, and a new situation, and sometimes you feel let down by your expectations. That is not the case for me here. I was wondering how it would feel to be here again. Not going to see Macchu Picchu or great temples and ruins in the Sacred Valley. Just to be here again. I was happy to feel what I felt upon arriving: comfort. I see that the time will go faster than usual because I don't want to leave so quickly. Three days in a heartbeat. Three days in an eyeblink. Back to sea level and the other kind of bustle. They say that Cusco radiates energy out into the world; the Incas called it "The Belly Button Of The World". Maybe I have bought into the hype, or maybe I am just really tired, but I am certain that I feel that energy. Neruda says that it is vain to come back, but that often it is the thing that one needs to do. That may well be the case for old Mateo del Norte. I am contented to have come back, and now I can leave in a better way.
No comments:
Post a Comment