Aguas Calientes

People filtered in and out of the station, waiting to board the train. Carolina and her family walked through the station, passing the blue train with said “Peru Rail” in faded yellow letters across the side. Uncle Jorge approached the ticket counter.
“When is the next train to Aquas Calientes?”
“You’re in luck. We still have space on this one.”
“I’ll take four tickets,” said Uncle Jorge.
Yet again, this was another brave new adventure for Teresa. This was also Carolina’s first time aboard a train. There was nothing Carolina loved more than traveling. One day, she wanted to become a world traveler, taking every sort of vehicle ever made. Today, she could cross passenger train off her list.
Uncle Jorge handed out the tickets and led the way to passenger car fourteen. It was the last car, nearest the caboose. They handed their tickets to the porter. He tore Lina’s ticket in half, placing a stub in her hand.
Backpackers and passengers with pillow-sacks crowded onto the train.
Uncle Jorge led the way, counting each compartment as he passed it, “A…B…C…D. This is compartment D. It must be ours.”
Lina and Teresa grabbed window seats. With one more blow of the whistle, the engine pulled out of the station. As each passenger car pulled tight, the couplers clacked into place. Their car lurched forward and they were on their way to Machu Pichu.
Lina pushed on the window sash so she could poke her head out the window. Mountains rose on either side of the train as it chugged through the valley. Several small farms lined the railway. Alpacas, llamas, and ostriches stood behind wire fences, watching the passengers in the train passing by.
Teresa waved at each farmhouse as the train passed.
“Hello, llamas!” she called out.
“Hello, ostriches!” said Lina.
“Hello, alpacas!” said Teresa.
“Hello silly girls,” said Uncle Jorge.
The girls chuckled as they greeted everything they passed, including light poles, rocks, and backpackers on the hiking trails.
Further into their trip, the train passed by several waterfalls. As the train crossed over a stream, its iron wheels clacked on the wooden bridge trestles. Just down the stream, a waterfall poured over the cliff, splashing in a ravine next to the bridge.
The train jostled from side-to-side, as if it were tip-toeing down the tracks. Just ahead, the stream crossed beneath the train again, opening into a wide river that ran alongside the train.
“We’re just about there,” said Uncle Jorge.
“That was a short trip. We should have just walked,” said Teresa.
“Soon, there will be plenty of trails to hike. You’ll be glad for every moment you get to rest your feet,” chuckled Uncle Jorge.
The train pulled into the station. Brakes squealed and wheels clacked, slower and slower, until the train stood in front of the station. Small hotels huddled next to the station.
Everyone got out of their seats and exited at the rear of the train. Lina took a deep breath as she adjusted her daypack on her shoulders. The clean smell of river water filled the air. In a way, the smell of the river water refreshed her. She exhaled and stepped off the train.
The river ran just beside the train tracks, cutting right through town. White water splashed against the rocks in the river. Steam rose between the trees and filled the skies. Clouds crept down the hills, blanketing the train station in a foggy, white haze.
“I’m getting hungry,” said Uncle Jorge, “Let’s stop at a restaurant for lunch.”
“Lina and I just ate tamales,” said Aunt Paola.
“I could eat some more,” said Lina.
“Teresa and I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“I suppose I could sit for a cup of coffee,” said Aunt Paola.
A family restaurant sat just next to the train station. People relaxed in the café, while backpackers busily prepared their packs. Uncle Jorge climbed stairs to the balcony. He sat at a table on the patio overlooking the train station.
“Now we can watch the people as they come and go,” said Uncle Jorge.
The waiter took their order and returned with a tray full of bowls. He returned with a tray full of food. placed bowls of spicy yucca soup in front of Jorge and both girls. While they slurped their soup, Aunt Paola enjoyed a cup of coffee.
“Mmm, it tastes like the coffee beans were freshly ground this morning,” said Aunt Paola.
“It smells fresh. May I have a taste?” asked Lina.
“Be careful, it’s hot,” said Aunt Paola. Lina blew across the top of the coffee cup. After a few moments, she carefully took a sip. Although the smell was pleasant enough for Lina, she could not bear the strong taste of the coffee. She puckered her face as she passed the mug back across the table.
As the waiter returned to the patio, Lina flagged him down.
“May I please have a large glass of ice water?”
“Coming right up,” he said.
Lina took several large bites of soup, trying to get rid of the coffee taste. Bits of sage and mingled with sweet red peppers and Yucca. Even the spicy red peppers in the Yucca soup did little to neutralize the bitterness.
“Have you ever tried coffee before?”
Lina shook her head.
“Maybe next time we’ll try something for beginning coffee drinkers,” she chuckled.
Lina continued eating her soup. The thick broth filled her stomach and cleared her appetite. The waiter returned with Teresa and Uncle Jorge’s tacquitos, in addition to Lina’s ice water.
She took a sip of ice water and breathed a sigh of relief. The coffee taste was gone.
“Aguas frias!” she exclaimed.
“Can I have a glass of ice water, too?” begged Teresa.
“Would anyone else like some ice water?” asked the waiter.
“I think we would all like a glass,” said Aunt Paola.
“Your wish is my command,” said the waiter.
As Lina drank her ice water, she watched the passengers walking along the rapids of the Aguas Calientes. She had a thought.
“The water in the river looks cold.”
“It is cold,” answered Aunt Paola.
“Then why do they call it Aguas Calientes?”
“There are several hot springs here.”
“A hot spring?”
“Freshwater pools heated with hot spring water from deep in the earth.”
“Really?”
“Underground water is heated by the volcanoes in this area.”
“Can we go to the hot springs?” begged Teresa.
“We can make a little time for it,” said Uncle Jorge.
They finished their meal and hiked down a trail. The stream broke off in one direction as the trail went the opposite way. They crossed a foot bridge high over the ravine below. On the other side, the trail continued, Everyone carefully walked up the wooden steps, slick with water. On the other side of the hill, they climbed down another set of steps. To Lina, the steps seemed steep. She reached out and grabbed her Uncle’s shirt tail. At the bottom of the steps, the river joined up with the trail again.
They came to a small clearing, where people were seated in tiny hot tubs, painted blue like swimming pools. The water from the hot springs bubbled in each group’s spa.
“It’s not what I imagined,” sighed Lina.
“Me neither,” added Teresa.
“What did you expect?”
“I expected large bubbling mud pits.”
“Who would want to get into those?” chuckled Uncle Jorge.
“I don’t know,”
“Well, you were sort of right,” interrupted Aunt Paola, “hot springs in caves are just like that. These hot springs are made for humans.”
“What are the hot springs like?”
“Look up at the trees,” she pointed up to steam that rose through the forest, “Sometimes, steam rises from the ground in a hot cloud, like steam from a hot cup of coffee or boiling water.”
“What about other times?”
“You blew on my coffee before you tasted it. Why?”
“It was hot.”
“That’s because you knew from experience. Some hot springs are exactly the same. They look like regular water, but they’re not.”
“Let’s get going. We still have a long way to go,” said Uncle Jorge.
As Lina turned away from the hot springs, a chilly mountain breeze swept across her face. She pulled her wool cap over her ears. Even though Carolina had spent the last four summers in Cusco, she still hadn’t gotten used to the cold mountain air.
Just down the hill, busses were lined up. Even most of the backpackers were climbing aboard the busses. Everyone hurried along, go to the top of the mountain.