Cusco

Stepping off the aircraft onto Cusco's tarmac at 11,150 feet, the crisp Andean air carried an invigorating sharpness scented with burning eucalyptus and cedar. I was greeted by a private escort from the Belmond Hotel Monasterio, a former 16th-century monastery in the historic San Blas neighborhood. Escorted into the Royal Suite ($1,200/night), the room featured oxygen-enriched air conditioning to aid acclimatization, antique colonial furnishings, and a private balcony overlooking a central courtyard anchored by a 300-year-old cedar tree.

I sipped a steaming cup of fresh muña and coca leaf tea, letting my body adjust as Gregorian chants drifted through the stone cloisters. In the late afternoon, I took a gentle walk through the cobblestone alleys of San Blas, marveling at the Twelve-Angled Stone, where massive green diorite blocks fit together with microscopic precision without a single drop of mortar. Dinner was at Cicciolina, a charming second-floor tapas bar and restaurant. I indulged in seared alpaca tenderloin with red wine-berry reduction, crispy Andean potatoes, and a glass of Mendoza Cabernet Franc ($65).

The centerpiece of my Andean expedition was boarding the opulent Belmond Hiram Bingham luxury train to Machu Picchu ($1,100 round-trip). Decorated in 1920s Pullman style with polished mahogany, gleaming brass, and sapphire velvet upholstery, the train journey was pure theatrical magic. As we carved along the foaming Urubamba River through the Sacred Valley, I sipped Pisco Sours in the bar car, accompanied by live Peruvian guitarists.

Arriving at the ancient cloud forest citadel of Machu Picchu, the morning mist parted to unveil the breathtaking majesty of Huayna Picchu and the terraced stone temples. Standing among the sacred ruins, high above the clouds, the spiritual weight and astronomical genius of the Incas resonated deeply. Cusco is not just a historical marvel; it is an unforgettable Andean triumph.