Machu Picchu Day 3 ~ A Lesson in Perspective
Machu Picchu Day 3 – A Lesson in Perspective
There’s a story I love about a wealthy father who took his son to the countryside to show him what it looked like to be poor. After their trip, the father asked, “What did you learn?” Instead of feeling pity, the boy replied:
“We have one dog—they had four.
We have a pool—they had an endless creek.
We have fancy lanterns—they have the stars.
We buy our food—they grow theirs.
We have walls—they have friends.”
As we hiked, rain sprinkled over the landscape, but it only made the scenery more vibrant. Towering, lush, green mountains, waterfalls tumbling from cliffs, and dense jungle sprinkles with bright flowers framed our trail. Our guide, Porfi, stopped regularly to show us the natural vegetation - everything from hallucinogenic berries to avocados the size of your head as we walked through farming groves in the middle of nowhere.
When we reached a small farm to wait for a bus, we bought fresh fruit and drinks for mere coins. Simple nourishment, more satisfying than any gourmet snack. From there, we drove to a coffee plantation tucked in the jungle. We learned how coffee is grown and roasted, then sipped their award-winning brew—an experience that felt richer than any high-end café back home.
Then came more unexpected: an emergency zip-line over a raging river. The road had been washed away by a landslide, but the locals built a cable crossing in days. We piled into small metal carriages, hearts racing, and zipped to the other side. It was terrifying—and completely unforgettable.
At the train station, we could have chosen the easier route, taking a train into town. But every single person in our group chose to keep walking. Along the tracks, we passed endless flowering bushes, waterfalls, and bridges that made us feel like we’d stepped into a movie.
On the way, we met vendors selling handmade goods and fresh fruit. Dozens of dogs and cats lounged around, cared for by everyone and belonging to no one. They didn’t need fences to be safe—they had community.
By afternoon, the effects of three days on our feet showed up in blisters, sore knees, and aching hips. Some of us were still fighting off stomach issues, and one hiker nursed bruised legs taped together the day before. But no one complained. We were too busy taking in the beauty around us.
Eventually, we arrived in Aguas Calientes—a town that felt like a mountain village in Colorado, complete with shops, cafés, and smiling locals. We browsed souvenirs, shared dinner with Porfi, and sank into our beds, feeling grateful for every step.
