The magical monotony of bus rides...

The bus ride we experienced today was one of those bus rides. One of those bus rides when one is so over-saturated with scenery, the jerking of the bus shocks, the heat inside the cabin, and the slowly developed un-comfortableness of the seats. But as all days this day had some more memorable moments.

I have this thing for old, dimly lit, and splendid churches; whether humble or grand in size, I find great pleasure in visiting their interiors. The first church we stumbled upon was that at Andahuaylillas, know popularly as the ¨Sistine Chapel of the Andes¨. I found the outside facade painted with faded but fantastic frescoes depicting catholic saints, a real treat to the eyes. However when I entered the dimly lit interior, and my eyes became accustomed to the lighting, I saw beauty beyond description. The entire ceiling of the humbly built, mud brick and wood Jesuit church was dripping with bright colour. Such a humble structure with such imposing artistic beauty. The walls and naves of the church were painted with intricate frescoes of various Biblical scenes and the lives of the saints. The altar gleamed with its overwhelming quantities of silver and gold, flamboyantly carved in figures of saints, and ornamentation.

The next stop, away from the main touristic tracks at the church in Huaro, proved equally overwhelming. This church was as well exuberantly decorated beyond the capacity of the intake of my mortal human brain. I stood for a long time visually consuming the frescoes representing the Resurrection of the Dead, the Final Judgment and glimpses of Paradise and Gehenna. In conclusion these two majestically decorated churches were a true treat to the eyes of a random by passer from Rollins College.


We were destined to later stop at the town of Raqchi where there are the remains of temple of Virachocha, the Inca creator deity. I was shocked by the height of this impressive Inca temple. The remains of the stone and mud brick walls and pillars loomed above us. I vividly imagined the structure, filled with the bustle of people, and emanating the reverence due to a most sacred place. The reconstructed circular stone storage houses, with their conical roofs harmonized with the soft grassy landscape of the valley. It was a majestic and serene place to have one of the most sacred Inca places positioned.

As the landscapes flowed unceasingly, and we coasted inside the bubble that was our bus cabin, we intermittently dozed off into short spurts of sleep. Suddenly there was a perceptible change in air density. my lungs were heaving at extracting those oxygen molecules, and I could no longer nap. We were approaching our topmost elevation of around 4380 meters, and although we were rather acclimatized to the air of Qosqo, 800 meters lower, our systems churned out significantly less oxygen from the atmosphere here. Slowly we emerged from our cabin, and admired the crisp view of glacier laden mountains, in the thin air. One day I hope to climb higher.


-Konrad