It has not been an easy trip and so far I have not been very well. I must admit I have not had a very good time. Cuzco was horrid, either because of the altitude or because of something spiritual, or both. The only consolation I have, and that may sound mean, is that Anna was also sick this morning.
The city of Cuzco is so very high that I not only had trouble breathing, but got an incredible headache. We visited the Spanish-built churches. Each is built over an Inca temple. I began to feel oppressed to the point of being weak and dizzy.
The day before yesterday, we visited the Coricancha Temple, not quite buried under the Church of Santa Domingo. Coricancha means enclosure of gold. An earthquake in the 50s revealed parts of the
temple that had been covered by the building of the church. Inside the church you could see partly resurrected temples (Temple of the Moon, Temple of Water) and an observatory. I did a sort of meditation there and at one time it felt like I was back at home on Hell’s table, the feelings were so strong.
Once outside, we sat on the grass and talked about why we were here. Everyone seemed to have a sense they should come, but did not really know why. Valerie, who travelled by herself, and who is pregnant (four months?), confided that she felt she had to come to Machu Picchu because of the baby. She carries a rather large crystal in a special Peruvian pouch. I wonder why she keeps it so secret?
Oct. 24, 1999 (travel diary)