Ollantaytambo has stood in the same place, inhabited by the same people since the Incas built it hundreds of years ago. On a train ride, a Dutch man sitting behind me spent 3 hours chanting Ollantaytambo Ollantaytambo Ollantaytambo. I still can't say it right the first time. While walking down a stone path eating a brownie, a little girl pulled my son's jacket until he gave her a piece. Two adorable kittens residing in our hotel made our day by letting us overwhelm them with love. It rained the whole time we were there. Water loudly streamed down the open aqueducts lining the sides of the road. Plastic bags wrapped on broomsticks announced home-brewed chicha inside. The streets were too narrow for cars, though that didn't stop them from driving. A taxi driver bragged that he's been driving for five years and was therefore an expert in navigating the strange ancient streets. We spent two hours in vain looking for a museum in a town that takes 10 minutes to walk from one side to the other, and now I see it in a photo with a bright blue door. I have never visited a more enchanting place.