Salineras

After having felt, at times, horribly lonely and out of place in the midst of (other) young Gringo Trail backpackers during my group trip to Machu Picchu, I was immensely grateful for one Couchsurfing gentleman named Kris* to accept me in his home despite his worries of it being too small to host anyone. Indeed it was tiny: the room pictured below worked both as his atelier and a kitchen, and behind it, there was just a small windowless bedroom. The roof leaked, there were no windows to look out of, and after a few days I noticed that even the walls were kind of make-shift structures. But none of that mattered; it was a lovely flat and I spent some happy last days in Cusco before leaving Peru.

Kris told me of some salt works that are located about two hours away from Cusco and suggested we could do a day trip there as he had also never been. I had no idea what to expect but was eager to go. We first spent some time in the little town of Pisaq, then jumped onto another minibus, and finally asked several locals for the way to walk to the salt ponds.

Once again, a walk up a hill. I am finally beginning to have less difficulties at these outrageous heights – at least this time my altitude-sick lungs beat the lungs of a smoker...!

We arrived at the place close to dusk, but there were still a few people working, piling or carrying sacks of salt. The contrast of the white ponds with the red hills was magnificent.

The Salineras are not really an attraction but a working salt factory. Salt has been collected in this area for thousands of years. We talked to a worker who explained the principal of the works: salty water runs downhill into the large ponds, where the water is left to evaporate and the salt then collected.

Kris had bought some roasted but non-salted peanuts on the way, and he insisted in cracking some hardened salt from the side of the pond and grinding it between his fingers onto the peanuts. While I was frightened of being caught in mid-theft, he was giddy with joy. Salt straight out of a salt pond!

(Finally, a photo of myself on this journey! Note, I am no selfie-ist.)

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*)Kris is no Peruvian name. When asked about it, he said his parents were just weird that way and that his brother was actually called Klaus, although that might have been just him taking the p*ss out of me.