Machu Picchu

High above the world, I rest on a green mountain saddle, cradled by jagged peaks that pierce the sky. Most mornings, a soft blanket of mist tucks me in, and I listen to the whisper of the wind through my stone doorways and empty windows. When the sun finally breaks through, it warms my granite walls and lights up the steep, grassy steps that climb my sides like a giant green staircase. Gentle llamas with soft woolly coats wander freely across my plazas, nibbling on the fresh grass of my farming terraces, their quiet presence a reminder of a time long ago. I have watched the sun rise and set over these mountains for more than five hundred years, a silent stone city holding onto ancient secrets. For centuries, I kept these secrets hidden, a jewel of the Andes that the world had forgotten. I am a city built in the clouds, a marvel of stone and spirit. I am Machu Picchu.

I was born from the vision of a great and powerful ruler, the Inca emperor Pachacuti. Around the year 1450, he looked upon this incredible mountain perch and decided to build a special royal estate, a place where he and his family could rest, worship, and connect with the gods. The Inca Empire was mighty, stretching for thousands of miles along the Andes mountains, and its people were master builders. The challenge was immense, but Pachacuti’s command set a monumental task in motion. There were no giant machines or powerful tools back then. Instead, brilliant engineers and thousands of strong workers shaped me with their own hands and simple bronze tools. They cut enormous blocks of granite from the mountain itself, some weighing as much as a school bus. They didn't use any mortar or cement to hold me together. Instead, they chiseled and sanded each stone so precisely that they fit together perfectly, like pieces of a giant, three-dimensional puzzle. To this day, you can’t even slide a piece of paper between them. This incredible skill made me strong enough to withstand earthquakes and the passing of centuries. My purpose was twofold. I was a peaceful retreat for the emperor, but I was also a sacred ceremonial center. My temples were carefully aligned with the sun, moon, and stars. My priests and astronomers would watch the sky from special windows and carved stones, understanding the seasons and predicting celestial events like the solstices. I was a place of science, spirituality, and royal power, all at once.

My life as a bustling royal city was vibrant but short. Only about a century after I was built, troubles began to brew in the vast Inca Empire. A civil war broke out, and then Spanish conquerors arrived, changing everything. The royal family no longer came to visit, and slowly, my residents—the priests, astronomers, and caretakers—left my stone walls behind. My paths grew quiet. The jungle, which had always been my neighbor, began to creep back in. Green vines climbed over my perfect stone walls, and thick roots pushed through the floors of my temples. Trees grew in my plazas, and my farming terraces were hidden under a tangle of wild plants. For nearly 400 years, I fell into a long, quiet sleep, hidden from the outside world. Only the mountains and the clouds knew I was still here. A few local farmers knew of my existence, sometimes planting crops on my terraces. Then, in the year 1911, an American explorer and professor named Hiram Bingham was searching for lost Inca cities. He was led up the steep mountainside by a local farmer and his young son. Imagine his astonishment when he pushed aside the thick vines and saw my stone buildings rising out of the jungle. He shared his incredible discovery with the world, and I began to wake from my long slumber.

Today, my sleep is over, and I am busier than ever. People from every corner of the world make the long journey up the mountain to walk my ancient stone paths. They stand in my plazas and gaze out at the breathtaking views of the Urubamba River snaking far below and the green peaks all around. I hear their gasps of wonder as they touch my cool stone walls and imagine the Inca emperor walking these same steps so long ago. I am no longer a home for an emperor, but a treasure for all of humanity. I am a bridge to the past, reminding everyone of the incredible creativity and skill of the Inca people. I stand as a lesson that humans can build magnificent things that live in harmony with nature. I hope to inspire everyone who visits to learn, explore, and dream as big as the mountains I call home.