Peru travel guide
With mountaintop cities, starry restaurants and high-end hotels, it’s no surprise Peru is at the top of many travel wishlists. One operator takes a visit to the country to a new level.
A riddle wrapped in mystery and wreathed in mist, Machu Picchu has been an inscrutable presence for generations. The 15th-century fortress, on the eastern slopes of the Peruvian Andes, is exalted for its pre-Columbian ruins. Yet how it was constructed, who it was conceived for and why it was abandoned remain up in the air – much like the citadel itself. To shield from raindrops as plump as corn kernels, our vigilant guides dispensed colourful ponchos for the ascent. As we scaled its jagged steps, a gaggle of ungainly llamas straining in plastic pajamas, the rain clouds scattered. When sunlight gilded its emerald-green terraces and precision-cut remains, I felt a deep sense of elation. Visiting illustrious sites can occasionally be anticlimactic, but witnessing Machu Picchu’s compositional richness was a pinnacle moment.
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There are countless ways to explore Peru, yet surely the most revelatory and ravishing way is with Belmond. The luxury travel stalwart operates a flock of elegant hotels and a pair of high-octane trains, the Hiram Bingham and Andean Explorer, in the South American hotspot. My whistle-stop tour last December zigzagged from sprawling Lima to enthralling Cusco, from cosmopolitan cities to prelapsarian valleys, hotel room to lounge car, in a manner that was sensitive, seamless and unfailingly polished. On this high-spirited adventure, we interacted with lucid guides and skilled artisans, enjoyed scrumptious meals, observed cultural pageantry, and beheld scenes that left us brimming with reverence.
At Rio Sagrado, a riverside lodge with frisky baby alpacas roaming the garden, Belmond’s style of well-heeled wayfaring was apparent. The retreat is ideally set for adjusting to Peru’s altitudinous terrain: the Sacred Valley is 2800 metres above sea level, though lower than nearby Cusco. On the balcony of my room, which was garlanded with wild flowers and verdurous views, I discovered coca tea, a herbal panacea for alleviating soroche, or altitude sickness. That night, chef Victor Carpio Polack prepared a pachamanca, a traditional meal to connect with Mother Earth, with meats and vegetables marinaded in native herbs and nested in an earthen oven. After dinner, we were regaled by strobe-lit dancers dressed as Incan deities. The blend of fantastical costumes, stilt walkers, smoke plumes and hypnotic huayno music left me in a trance. It was deliciously akin to a Peruvian Midsummer Night’s Dream.
From Shakespearean comedy to Márquezian magical realism, our journey unfolded like a quixotic tale. Each step of the way was marked by heartfelt rituals, including a gratitude ceremony the next morning. Boarding the Hiram Bingham, the cobalt-blue train that transports guests to Machu Picchu, was a singular thrill. The locomotive gleams with a luxurious convergence of glossy woods, brass finials, and silky fabrics. Indolent but purposeful, I made my way to an open-air car. Here, guests were admiring the shifting landscape, bartenders were pouring punchy Pisco Sours and two musicians belted out “Crazy Little Thing Called Love”. It was early, but this was no time for abstinence, so I took a seat on one of the swivel bar stools.
Outside, the varied panorama switched from lunar deserts to ornate rainforests. We whizzed by flourishing fields, undulating hills and sun-baked adobe houses. For lunch in the dining car, nattily attired waitstaff deposited cloches atop white tablecloths. Accustomed to the convulsions of the train, they moved through the carriages with balletic grace. The menu included a flaky tartlet with goat’s cheese and smoked trout, beef skewers with spicy huancaína sauce, and mango gazpacho whose vibrant shade evoked Inti, the Inca sun-god. “This is the day,” said one of the team as we approached Machu Picchu. Commissioned by the emperor Pachacuti, the fortress was assembled with staggering ingenuity considering the Incas possessed neither steel, iron nor wheels. One thing we know for certain: the idea of swashbuckling American explorer Hiram Bingham unearthing this “lost city” in 1911 is entirely far-fetched. “It’s impossible to say it was a secret location,” said our guide Fatima Silverio since it was known to locals. Bingham telegraphed it to the world.
A stone’s throw from the ruins is Sanctuary Lodge, a Belmond bolthole whose gardens are beautifully planted with a profusion of orchids. Among them is one that legend instructs was born from the tears of an Incan princess’s forbidden love. I cried tears of joy when sampling velvety chocolate and smoky whisky made from black corn, but those treats were merely a prelude to another elaborate repast on Hiram Bingham as it spirited us towards Cusco. Perched high in the Andes, the former capital of the Inca empire is 3400 metres above sea level. Seldom had I been so obsessed with elevation. I guzzled water, sipped coca tea and inhaled lozenges as preventive measures, but the dizziness and nausea caught up with me regardless. Trotting up stairs or a steep incline left me gasping like a goldfish dislodged from its tank. My patience wearing as thin as the air, I turned to one of the common medications, acetazolamide, and it soon remedied me.
No doubt it helped that guest rooms at Palacio Nazarenas in Cusco were “oxygen enriched” to encourage uninterrupted sleep. Oxygen is piped into the chambers breathtakingly decorated with four-poster iron beds, hand-embroidered blankets and vivid frescoes in the bathroom. The hotel occupies an erstwhile 17th-century convent with many of its bygone features intact. Exhibited on whitewashed walls in airy courtyards and long corridors is a vast collection of paintings from the Cusco School. The Spanish, who aimed to convert the Incas to Catholicism, dispatched a group of religious artists to the city. These Cusquenian canvases glimmer with intense hues, gold flourishes and warrior angels. My favourites had interspersed elements of both cultures – blasphemy was forgiven by the conquerors. In The Last Supper, created in 1753 by Marcos Zapata and displayed in the Cathedral of Cusco, Jesus and his disciples are gathered around a plate of cuy, or guinea pig.
The gentle creature graduated from being a sacrificial animal to a celebratory one: farm-raised guinea pigs are considered a delicacy. “Almost 65 million are consumed each year,” guide Nancy Bautista told me. The rest of the planet thinks it’s weird we eat kangaroo, so ordering guinea pig didn’t feel like an overreach. At Pachapapa, a nearby restaurant, it was roasted whole, with crisp golden skin and a vaguely rabbit-like flavour. Paired with a herbaceous sauce, and chicha beer fashioned from fermented maize, it made for a decent snack. Still ravenous, I headed to Palacio’s sister hotel Monasterio for sublime ceviche. Delicate trout played the pivotal role, ably abetted by cooked and fresh corn, potato, onion and chilli in a zesty interplay.
Artisanry is an integral part of life here and weaving is an age-old example of Quechua culture. One morning, we met with some avid weavers adapting Incan techniques for their polychromatic textiles that embody identification and ornamentation. These women, many of whom acquired their craft as children, can retain 60 different patterns. On another outing, we visited the light-filled studio of ceramicist Tater Vera, whose glazed pieces honour Peruvian iconography. Vera, a puckish glint in his eyes, darted from room to room as he presented his masterful works as well as vintage furnishings and rugs. We also encountered a cooperative of farmers cultivating organic ingredients, such as red lettuce and cherry tomatoes, in greenhouses on the outskirts of the city. One woman, a scarlet wrap draped on her shoulders and a jaunty fedora on her head, clasped my hands with a vice-like grip as we danced to folk music. Nearby, a boy with obsidian eyes and a pet goat looked on with bemusement at my gringo moves.
Back in Cusco the central plaza buzzed with life. Andean women carried babies swaddled in lliqlla, concessionaires offered quail eggs, papaya juice and anise-scented chuta bread, and a local hastily walked her alpaca down a cobblestone street as though late for an appointment. Gift stores teemed with furry accessories composed of llama, alpaca and vicuña hair in varying degrees. At the Museum of Pre-Columbian Art, I dipped into three thousand years of culture. The museum’s mind-blowing objets included bone bracelets shaped like lima beans, spiralled silver nose rings flaunted by high priests, and door knocker-gold earpieces that denoted status in the Mochica world – so much so that the Spanish conquistadors dubbed the Incan nobles orejones or “big ears”.
That night, we dined at Mauka restaurant in the hotel, recently launched under the auspices of intrepid chef Pía León. León, from trailblazing Central and Kjolle restaurants in Lima, is revered for her focus on lost, obscure and endangered ingredients, and so helping to preserve their existence. At Mauka, guests are greeted with a cornucopia of bountiful produce, including highland tubers and jungle fruits, arranged like an edible chequerboard. Among the flurry of dishes was surprisingly sweet alpaca crudo served on potato crackers. A fragrant Amazonian fish called paiche was enlivened with tropical fruit and yucca, while perfect squares of crisp pork belly paired with rainbow quinoa showed mastery. A side dish of grains from the Andean plateau was the unexpected hit – at once creamy, earthy and sensual. In a week of indelible meals, León’s precisely calibrated fare was unequalled – a slice of Lima’s gastronomic sophistication.
All these peaks and we hadn’t yet boarded the Andean Explorer for a two-night excursion. The well-appointed train snakes along one of the loftiest routes in the world, up to 4300 metres on the Altiplano from Cusco to Puno and Arequipa. With space for 70 guests, an outdoor observation deck and spa carriage, there’s no other sleeper train as ritzy as this in South America. The beaming staff included a nurse readied with oxygen tanks. A couple of guests indulged, but perhaps more for the novelty factor. At the station we watched another animated performance of folk music – the condor dance never gets old – before exploring the spiffy cars. I was fascinated to learn that the train originated in Townsville in the 1990s before being retired in Queensland. The Belmond team upgraded it to an ultra-luxe locomotive and launched the service in 2017.
Soon enough, we had rolled out of the city into illimitable plains framed by expansive windows. The Andes cleaves into eastern and western ranges and the train passes through them to reveal moss-hued mountains, stark mesas, and succulent-studded fields. Near La Raya, the border between Cusco and Puno, I spotted wild vicuña. Prized for their golden fleece, these skittish, fleet-footed creatures are shorn and released amid carnivalesque festivals. Our most startling stop was Lake Titicaca, where we boarded a speedboat to engage with a local community. In the 1960s, the Uros people started to hatch small artificial islands, employing the reeds and roots of totora – an incredibly versatile plant also used for their single-room abodes, boats and fuel. We arrived at one islet, walking across a yellow-green carpet of crushed stems, and met with a handful of residents who subsist by fishing and hunting birds. A cluster of women laid out handmade textiles and I bought a tapestry interlaced with stories of Andean gods in fiery shades.
Back in the swish environs of the train, there was more feasting in the twin dining cars, raucous carousing in the music-filled bar, and hushed contemplation in the cabins. It was 12 degrees outside but my toasty suite was equipped with topaz-hued leather recliners, a double bed topped with pompom pillows, and a slim-line bathroom. Our final stop was Arequipa, known as the White City owing to the widespread use of a chalky volcanic rock called sillar. The pale town also functioned as a clean slate for our journey, a way to reflect on all we had experienced. In a strange coda to our trip, civil strife erupted in Peru as we prepared to leave, choking off roads, tracks and airports in the south of the country. For the next few months, the seams of this intricately woven nation seemed to unspool. Thankfully, it has lately rebounded and Peru remains unmissable.
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The writer travelled as a guest of Belmond. Belmond offers six-, seven- and 10-night itineraries to Peru, including the Hiram Bingham to Machu Picchu, two nights on the Andean Explorer with a stop at Lake Titicaca, and stays at its luxe hotels. Customised itineraries are also available. belmond.com
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