Imagine planning your dream trip to Machu Picchu, only to arrive and find yourself stranded amidst a bitter dispute. That's exactly what happened to 1,400 tourists recently, highlighting a simmering conflict over who gets to control the lucrative bus route to this iconic wonder. This isn't just about transportation; it's a story of local politics, economic power, and the challenges of balancing tourism with community needs.
For the past 30 years, Consettur, a bus company, has been the primary transporter of approximately 4,500 daily visitors from Aguas Calientes, the town at the foot of Machu Picchu, up to the site itself. The journey is a short 20-minute ride, a welcome alternative to the grueling two-hour hike up a steep mountain path. Cristian Alberto Caballero Chacón, head of operations for Consettur, acknowledges that tensions have been rising in recent months.
The heart of the issue? Consettur's license was up for renewal, and a rival company, San Antonio de Torontoy, won the bid. But here's where it gets controversial: accusations of a flawed bidding process sparked outrage amongst some locals. In September, protestors blocked the railway line – the vital artery connecting Aguas Calientes to the outside world – using rocks. This forced Peruvian authorities to intervene, clearing the tracks and evacuating stranded tourists via special train services. Imagine being in that situation! What would you do?
Many locals, speaking anonymously, claim the protests stemmed from Consettur's perceived monopoly and the impending transfer of this lucrative position to San Antonio de Torontoy. A round-trip bus ticket costs a hefty $24 for foreigners and $15 for Peruvians, making it a significant source of income. Although Consettur's license expired in September, they continue to operate, while San Antonio de Torontoy remains sidelined due to ongoing legal challenges. It's a tangled web of competing interests, with various local communities vying for a piece of the pie. And this is the part most people miss: the ownership structure of Consettur itself. Caballero insists it's not a monopoly, explaining that it comprises 12 different companies with multiple partners, including the local district council, which holds a substantial 38% stake. San Antonio de Torontoy, on the other hand, is based further away in the wider Urubamba Province.
The conflict extends beyond the bus route. Australian tourist Annalise Jaksic voiced concerns about the exorbitant cost of the train journey to Aguas Calientes, ranging from $140 to a staggering $2,000 for a first-class ticket. "We thought it was one train [all the way to Machu Picchu]," she lamented, "and we thought if there was any more transport to get up there it would all be included, because you pay so much money for the train." Her travel companion, Todd Carland, described the process of purchasing entry tickets to Machu Picchu as "a nightmare," particularly without booking an expensive guided tour. A standard adult ticket costs $57.
Even the mayor of Aguas Calientes, Elvis La Torre, is disgruntled, pointing out that only a fraction of the tourism revenue benefits the local community. "Only 10% of the ticket sales stay in the region. The rest of the money goes to the Ministry of Culture to look after other archaeological sites around Peru and pay for wages." He argues that more funds should be allocated to improve tourism infrastructure and support local projects. The Ministry of Culture has yet to respond to requests for comment.
Dina Huillca, a local vendor selling roses, tomatoes, and mint on the streets of Aguas Calientes, echoes this sentiment: "More needs to be done for the local communities. We don't have basic services like running water, or a hospital, and the schools need to be in better condition." This starkly contrasts the image of Machu Picchu as a thriving tourist destination. Isn't it ironic that the communities surrounding a world-renowned site lack basic amenities?
Carlos González, president of the chamber of tourism for the Department of Cusco, proposes a radical solution: state control of all public transport in Peru. "We are pushing for an update in the law so that the vice ministry of tourism can take care of all the travel resources in our country," he explains. "If we don't have a unified approach to Peru as a destination we can't be competitive in the long term." He envisions a more structured experience for tourists, with designated areas for different types of visitors, catering to both spiritual seekers and Instagram enthusiasts. But he acknowledges that Peru's political instability – six presidents in six years – makes such sweeping changes difficult. "I've been a leader of the tourism sector for five years now, and I have lost count of how many ministers, vice ministers and congress people I have spoken to."
Despite the ongoing conflict, Caballero of Consettur expresses a willingness to cooperate. "If they are given the final approval we don't have a problem with working with them. We won't stop them." This suggests a potential path forward, but the underlying issues of fairness, economic distribution, and community development remain. Boldly highlighting any point in the article that could spark differing opinions: The idea of state control of tourism resources is a contentious one. Some might argue it's the best way to ensure equitable distribution of benefits and consistent quality, while others fear it could stifle innovation and lead to bureaucratic inefficiencies. What do you think? Should the government play a more active role in managing tourism in Peru, or should the market be left to its own devices? Are there alternative solutions that could address the concerns of local communities and ensure a positive experience for tourists? Share your thoughts in the comments below!
