Three weeks with my brother - Nicholas Sparks [45]
Micah and I got off the bus, and at first the mist and cloud cover was thick enough to prevent us from seeing anything. Instead, as we were snaking along the edge of a cliff, the ruins materialized slowly, almost as if being casually unveiled. First, nothing was in focus; gradually images formed. Then, all at once, we could see everything, and it was enough to stun us into silence.
Part of the impact of Machu Picchu is due to sheer location; while some of the ruins are at the top of the mountain, other parts are built directly into the sides of the cliff. Terraces look like giant steps carved out of the cliff side, and just beyond them are the granite-block dwellings and temples of the ancient Incas. The roofs, originally made of wood and thatch, have long since decayed, but we could see the structures themselves. Interconnected like apartments in places, steep steps interweave among the buildings. Places to worship dotted the settlement, with open areas complete with sacrificial slabs. All around us, the lush slopes of the Andes towered in the distance. Wisps of clouds snaked through the peaks. If we’d been amazed by Tikal, we were literally rendered speechless by the architecture of Machu Picchu. It would be my favorite stop on the entire journey.
We made our way through the ruins with a guide on hand to tell us about the history and culture. Yet over and over, I felt compelled to break away from the group, simply to stand alone for a while. It was the kind of place that one should experience, not simply visit. Micah felt the same way. At one point, we sat quietly on the edge of one of the ruins with our feet dangling over, drinking in the spectacular view, neither of us feeling the urge to break the silence.
Over the next few hours, we continued to explore the ruins. Afterward, we were supposed to have lunch in the restaurant. Micah and I would have stayed on at the site, but the tour schedule didn’t permit it, and we grudgingly made our way to join the others.
After lunch, we headed back to our hotel in Cuzco, and arrived just after dark. One of the lecturers on the tour called our room and told us to come over; when we arrived, we saw what he’d ordered from a local restaurant.
Roasted guinea pig.
“Come on,” he said, “let’s try it. I had one of our guides order it from a local restaurant. We’ll get pictures.”
Looking at it made me feel suddenly queasy. I leaned toward Micah. “It still has the head. And the claws.”
Micah shrugged. “It is supposed to be a delicacy. And besides, the painting shows that it’s what they served at the Last Supper.”
“You’re not really thinking of eating it, are you?”
“I might taste it . . . it’s the only chance I’ll get. It’s not like they serve it where we live.”
“Really? You’re going to take a bite?”
“I think I have to. And do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Get a picture. For Alli.”
“That’s mean. She’s going to scream.”
“No, she won’t. She’ll think it’s funny. And I’ll get a picture of you taking a bite, too.”
“Me?”
“Of course. I can’t let you throw away a moment like this. Like they say, When in Rome . . .”
I looked at the guinea pig again. “It makes me a little nauseated to even consider it.”
“That’s why I’m here. To help you experience new things. To make you stretch.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Hey,” he said, shrugging. “What are brothers for? Now get the camera ready.”
I did and snapped the picture as he took a bite. He did the same for me when I took a small bite, my stomach churning like a lava lamp on amphetamines.
“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“I think I’m going to throw up,” I admitted.
He laughed before putting his arm over my shoulder. “Think of it this way—it’s just the latest in a long line of stupid things that we’ve done. And this time, it wasn’t even dangerous.”
During those first years in Fair Oaks, even as we began to test the limits of our courage through daredevil stunts, we continued to drift apart. Micah was spending more time with his friends, and I was spending time with mine. Occasionally, our friends would end up in the same place, but more often