In July of 2017, Me, my wife Vanessa, and our two children, Jude and Cora, flew from Lima, Peru, over the Andes Mountains, to Cusco to see the great Machu Picchu. The city was once the great capital of the Incan Empire, which was founded in 1100 AD.
Once we arrived in Cusco, we boarded a train that took us to Ollantaytambo, in which from there we would board a bus that we take us up the mountain to Machu Picchu. The journey was rough since a teacher strike resulted in debris being thrown onto the tracks and streets to halt movement of vehicles to protest unfair pay.
However, we made it to Machu Picchu, and words can not describe its true majesty. We reached the entrance, hired a tour guide (which you need) and walked roughly 25 minutes up to the site. The sun was out, the greenery of our surroundings was astounding, and the ancient stone empire of the Incas shined throughout the mountainscape.
Our children, being half-Peruvian, were able to look over a piece of their heritage, and although I myself am not Peruvian, I could not help but feel that this too, has become a piece of me, as it does with everyone that gets the opportunity to experience such a wonder.