Pachacamac or Machu Picchu? While I had never heard of the former, I was bursting with excitement over the latter. But Pachacamac, a large adobe-constructed Inca structure about a half-hour outside central Lima, was an expansive, impressive introduction to the never-ending ruins of Peru. Plus, it wasn’t just a wannabe Machu Picchu, as its construction required a different kind of ancient intelligence, built with sand instead of rock. That’s not to say I would recommend heading here after your high-point Machu Picchu excursion, because then it might look like one big sandcastle. Part of the appeal is what you see when venturing farther out from this ruin before or after your visit. The “hills” of Lima, beginnings of the famed Andes, are almost completely occupied by utter slums. I mean slums with no electricity or running water, homes to emaciated, starving dogs alongside pleading, barefoot children and desperate men begging you, racing into the street, to step in their restaurants. Yes, I’m regarding this as a positive experience, because after the memories of museums and tours fade, those capturing the locals and their lives are still bright.
As for Pachacamac itself, once we escaped the sparse groups, unlike Machu Picchu’s hordes, and inhaled the wintry scent of burning trees or shrubs, the feeling of awe at ancient man’s advanced knowledge washed in. Of course, this could be somewhat hindered if, as when we were there, multiple parts of this sandy ruin are blocked for reconstruction or preservation efforts, a necessity, of course. Plus, it’s not like they leave you be. When Danny and I wondered a wee bit off the path, a tiny official-looking figure high up on yet another sand hill blew his scolding whistle. Hey, I didn’t see any “Do Not Enter” signs.
Thankfully, though, the view of Lima’s most underappreciated asset, the breaking Pacific Ocean, from Pachacamac’s largest fort-like structure, was ours for the taking (even if the aforementioned guard did nosily check up on his newfound delinquents). After ambling between the high sandy walls, gliding my hands against the rough barriers, and climbing the smooth, sturdy steps, we arrived at several ledges jutting in the direction of the crashing waves. Here the wind intensified and Lima’s chill became ever more apparent as I wrapped myself tightly in my flimsy sweatshirt. But I became lost in a soothing blankness of my mind as I stared into the darkened water, intensified by the blanket of clouds, and shifted my gaze to an enormous towering rock a little ways from shore oddly evoking “The Lord of the Flies” imagery. Clean, crisp air flowing into my lungs and a blanketing quiet prevailing, I had found the rare calm of a booming metropolis.