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Our journey began in Lima, a city experiencing a cultural and, more notably, culinary renaissance that has reverberated around the world in recent years. Thankfully, our first stop after checking in to Miraflores Park Hotel was lunch at their restaurant, Mesa 18, which recently debuted a Japanese fusion menu courtesy of Japan-native Toshiro Konishi a chef with a knack for finding Perus freshest fish and ingredients. Dinner was no less impressive. Helmed by the talented young chef Virgillio Martinez Veliz, Centrale Restaurante is on the forefront of the countrys culinary movement with a tasting menu that highlights his impressive technical skills. Even the bread basket was elevated to the next level, served with an assortment of salts, seasoned butters and savory cheese spreads. As a food-lover, and professional diner, being in a city heralded for its cuisine is an open invitation to eat extravagantly. Lima delivered the goods and proved that its reputation was well earned. The next day, as we made our way to Cuzco, known as the Gateway to Machu Picchu, our group was warned that the high altitude would be a significant factor. Luckily, Hotel Monasterio offers oxygenated rooms and coca tea to help with acclimatization another reason to be happy I traded in my backpack for luxe accommodations. The hotel building, dating to the 1500s, was once a monks residence (a detail not lost on me given the Gregorian chanting piped through the public areas). Today its location, walking distance from the main square, makes it easy to explore the areas architectural sites. Once the capital of the Incan empire, Cuzco is rich with reminders of its ancient past. It is said to be the oldest city in the Western hemisphere, a claim I believed when I heard locals speaking Quechua, the language of their pre-Columbian ancestors.
In the days that followed, I would learn more about the Quechua people as we made our way through the Sacred Valley. We checked in to the Hotel Rio Sagrado, built in the style of an Andean village and located on the banks of the Urubamba River. It offers a mystical resting place with pet alpacas grazing the sloping lawns. Here, as the sun was setting, we would participate in a harmonization ceremony, performed in Quechua by an Andean Shaman and his wife (a Parker Posey doppelganger if there ever was one). The cleansing ritual was the perfect entre to ready us for our trip to Machu Picchu. The blue and gold cars of the Hiram Bingham, named for the explorer who discovered Machu Picchu, slowed to a stop at Ollanta station. As the train rolled forward, it felt more as if we were travelling back in time. The first-class service and whitetablecloth lunch served with Perus famous pisco sours transported us to another era. The four Pullman cars, including an observation deck from which we could take in the breathtaking landscape, meandered through the Andean mountainside along the Urubamba River. Once in a while, I glimpsed determined hikers on the Inca trail- our destination was the same; it was only our journey that was different. The next morning, after waiting in line at five a.m. to secure one of the limited tickets available, I climbed the same path as the high priest had long ago as part of his daily ritual. Two hours later, sweating from the blazing sun (and from having to navigate a few surprisingly tricky spots), I arrived at the peak. Looking down at the Sanctuary Lodge just steps from the entrance, the tracks off in the distance and the epic beauty of the soaring Andes, I thought of the days leading up to this very moment a moment I would truly never forget.