On Sunday morning, the day after horseback riding in the mountains, I had originally planned to take a bus over to Pisac to visit the very large market that happens there every week. However since I was fighting a cold and feeling very tired I decided to head back to Cusco and venture to Pisac on another day. Carrie was remaining for another night in Urubamba in order to attend a yoga workshop that was taking place all day on Sunday. After another lovely, fresh breakfast and some great conversation with Edwin, his brother, and his friend, I headed to the bus terminal and Carrie to her workshop. I was not quite sure what to expect when I got to the terminal but I figured since we had made it to Urubamba it could not be that hard to figure out how to get back to Cusco.
The bus terminal in Urubamba was a more formal, organized entity than the casual courtyard in Cusco from which we had departed. This was an actual building with small vendors selling food and newspapers positioned around the interior walls. Benches scattered randomly around the center of the main hall were filled with people apparently waiting on conveyance to unknown destinations. (The only way to get around in this part of Peru was by bus or car.) I saw what looked like a ticket window and went up to it. I did not speak immediately as I was building the necessary Spanish phrases in my head that I needed to ask my question. While I was working on this, before I had a chance to finish my mental gymnastics, one of the gentleman working in the booth asked, “Cusco or Pisac?”. So much for using my new Spanish skills, they were apparently used to working with tourists. To keep things simple, I responded Cusco, and one of them took me into the large yard adjacent to the building where, as in Cusco, an assorted collection of large buses, mini-vans, taxis and autos were assembled. He pointed me at one of the large buses but I did not want to get on that being unfamiliar with how they worked. I stood there undecided, trying to figure out how to get on the correct mini-van when another guy asked me the same question, “Cusco or Pisac?”. Hearing my response he pointed me at a mini-van. Being familiar with this mode of transport from our trip over to Urubamba, I climbed in and hoped for the best. Worse case I would see another part of the Sacred Valley and best case I would get to where I wanted to go–back to Cusco.
Center stage. I was told this weekend was organized by a different group than the previous week. They had five dummies sitting on the curb. I have not found out the significance of this yet.
The van filled up quickly and we were off. With curiosity I watched which way we were going and sure enough it was back out of the valley the way we had come in on Friday so I felt confident I was heading to where I wanted to go. I sat back to enjoy the ride. It was a bit rainy and cloudy in the valley but as we climbed out and away the sun appeared and it became quite warm. I sat and relaxed and watched the beautiful, lush green landscape pass by. The van stopped from time to time to let people out along the way in some of the small villages along our route. We finally reached Cusco and when the van stopped I did not recognize where we were. It was not the courtyard we had departed from. I got out with everyone else and asked the driver where the city center was so that I could orient myself. It turned out we were just a few blocks off of the Plaza des Armes and I just had not been down this particular street before. I paid my S/7.00 (about $2.50) and headed for the Plaza intending to then go to home and get some rest.
One view of the crowd. Many more people were out this weekend than last. Notice the guy in the center covered in foam!
As I approached the plaza I saw crowds of people milling about, in costume. I entered the plaza and had a moment of deja’vu as it appeared that there was a repeat of the Carnival that we had witnessed last Sunday taking place again. (I found out later that they do two weekends of Carnival although I still don’t understand the reason.) Since the weather was sunny, and even somewhat hot, the plaza was filled with people, both locals and tourists. I decided to stay for a while and watch since I enjoyed the costumes and dancing and also it was a great opportunity to people watch.
There seemed to be a kind of parade going on, similar to the one the previous week, but this time there were more groups in attendance. I sat down on a curb around the corner from the reviewing stand and watched the groups practice and mill about while they were waiting for their turn in the limelight. I have included a variety of pictures here of the various costumes, but it was really very hard to limit them. I took about 100 pictures just of this event because the costumes were so colorful and diverse. (I will let the pictures speak for themselves.) Every region, municipality, or village seemed to have their own particular style. I ended up sitting there for almost three hours just taking everything in and watching the crowd and the performers. Like the week before everyone was having a great time. As the morning wore on and turned into afternoon the kids with foam started to get more bold and soon everyone was at risk of getting sprayed, including the performers. I got it in the back of the head a few times with the purple type, but it evaporated quickly. After about three hours I decided to head home and rest but I really enjoyed the repeat of last weekend—better weather and not as cold!
The whole morning was a feast for the eyes with color and activity everywhere.
Each group had its own accompanying musicians although the tune everyone was playing seemed to be the same. Carnival music?
Several costumes incorporated parts of the corn plant and seemed to celebrate agriculture.
While the costumes were different the dances all had many of the same elements.
No matter what you could count on costumes that were colorful.
There was such a great variety of costumes to see!
Waiting in line to parade around the square to get to center stage.
Dancing in front of center stage.