This illustrated recollection is a tribute to Peru -- that country which made our hearts ache with wonder at so much natural beauty...in the midst of so much misery.

No symbol of Peru is more universally recognized than Machu Picchu, that architectural marvel snuggled safely out of sight in the Andes until nosey old Hiram Bingham cajoled some locals into leading him there in 1911. Abandoned centuries before for reasons still unknown, it may be the most majestic place on earth. No amount of exposure through photos or even Imax videos ahead of time can prepare the visitor for that first sight of a perfectly laid out community perched among dark purple-green mountains that look both close enough to touch and tall enough to reach the moon.

Even if we hadn't been gasping for breath as we scaled the three thousand steps that link the ruins, our gasps were irrepressible as we would scale each new height and gaze out at what the ancient inhabitants must have seen every day of their lives. It almost made us feel connected to them as we would find a little window built into a wall, perfectly framing a mountainous landscape to create a piece of living art.

Guides at Machu Picchu are pretty useless, their desire to please the tourists inspiring them to ever greater exaggerations and fabrications about the ancient people who lived here. The truth is no one knows, and that's the beauty. We were allowed to conjure up our own visions of their daily lives, grinding corn in giant communal pestles, hanging their mantles on stone pegs carved into the walls, or just devoting months and even years to carve an exact replica of the mountain landscape outline mirrored behind the work of art. They may not have had a written language, but these people knew how to speak to the soul.

No visit to Machu Picchu would be complete without capturing some of the amazing play of light and shadow in black and white. What they show is almost irrelevant. They catch nature in the act of performance art.

Though Machu Picchu was abandoned by its builders, Cusco survives as a functional testament to the ancient Quechua achievements. Why they would choose a city 14,000 feet in the mountains as their capital is fun to speculate on. Maybe they figured that by the time any enemies got to them they would be so winded from lack of ozygen that they would surrender rather than attack. At any rate, a visit to Cusco is an endurance test of the most rewarding kind.

When the Spanish arrived and bullied their way into what was an authoritarian monarchy where no one went without, they tried to put their imprimatur on everything. They built churches on prime real estate, only to have successive generations discover when the churches collapsed in earthquakes that the Inca structures the Spanish had built over had withstood the earthquakes. Maybe the Spaniards knew about the durability of Inca walls, and that's why they let so many of them remain to line the narrow streets of Cusco.

Though they had no beasts of burden, the Inca managed to haul huge rocks for long distances to build their structures. Constructed without mortar of any kind, the walls are mosaics of rocks shaped so to fit so artfully that you can't get a piece of paper between them. Even when the walls have a rounded configuration, they are as flawlessly interlocking a creation as any modern mason could ever aspire to.

The Spanish influence in Peru wasn't all bad. Some of the architectural heritage of Mother Spain made a fitting complement to the Quechua and Inca tradition. Looking out over Cusco today reveals a landscape of red tile roofs and low buildings with quirky balconies.

Every family album has to have at least one touristy shot. This is the obligatory photo, memorable only because seconds after snapping the shutter the photographer had to rescue the Anglo subject from two snorting llamas. Happening as it did early on in their marriage, it was a harbinger of rescues from mammals and other life forms on four continents.

Before we leave the area around Cusco, let us introduce you to an enchanted spot. It's a little town called Chinchero which sits on a high plain swept by whistling winds that make the clouds skitter as if they were on fast forward, yet do not disturb the covering of soft pink dust that covers the town square like a giant piece of rusty felt. Sounds of celebration drift up from small house, yet only the feel of people affirms their presence, for they do not appear. Fog and clouds intermingle just inches above your head, rolling and tumbling out over the vast distances, making the sky seem angry one minute and playful the next as it creates shadow paintings on the mountains below. Lakes profound and forbidding glimmer like mica chunks in the distance. And in this depopulated place, it is as if this whole enchanted piece of the earth is all yours, if only for a moment.

In Southern Peru near Chile is a town called Arequipa, the White City. It rises out of the desert like so many bleached cow skulls in a Georgia O'Keeffe painting. Its ornate stone buildings are carved from the white local stone that gives the city its name. Fancying themselves the sophisticates of Peru, the elite of this city trace their roots to Spanish settlers, pride themselves on the dearth of Indians, and give the epithet "White City" an altogether different and unhealthy connotation.

Lest anyone think that the only master builders of ancient Peru worked in stone, let us show you "The World's Largest Mud Ruins", as some enterprising local citizen announced when he translated "adobe" into English. On the northern coast near the town of Trujillo lies Chan Chan, which pre-dates the Incas. Using only sun-baked earthen construction, they built fortifications and whole cities, now eroded from the effects of El Nino in the last two decades. Still, their ecologically perfect agricultural system, symbolized here in relief carvings still in evidence at Chan Chan, enabled them to live on a coastal desert and support a civilization of thousands.

On the off-chance that any of you will ever get to Peru, you have to visit the "huaco" museum, if it hasn't been blown up (not by a terrorist, but by a careless match...it's in the basement of the local gas station). The ancient Chimu and Mochica people made portrait vases called "huacos" to honor people. Though they pre-date the documented arrival of Europeans, some of the huacos clearly show European, Asian and African faces. Spooky!

Not far from Trujillo is the little town of Chiclayo, unremarkable in every way except for one. It was here, in one of the huge burial mounds of an ancient civilization, they found the first undisturbed tomb of an ancient aristocrat, complete with sceptre, earplugs, nose rings, gold bullion to bankroll him in the afterlife, and layer upon layer of mantles made of exotica such as mother of pearl and beads from as far away as Argentina. We were lucky enough, thanks to a death threat that sent us on the lam to remote areas for a while, to be there while the excavation got underway and before the National Geographic people arrived. Armed guards were protecting the workers from local grave robbers, who weren't happy at having such a rich find declared off-limits to them. After all, they reasoned, it was their ancestors! The site is called Sipan, and seeing it and touching its riches was one of the highlights of our years in Peru. But who knows? Another such find may reveal itself any day, thanks to the erosion which makes mud castles from the mounds.

So what of the place we lived, the capital of Lima? Imagine a coastal city where it never rains, but only experiences a palpable mist, called "garua", which hangs in the air five months a year. It's a flowering desert, and the least bit of irrigation makes it spring to life with emerald ground cover and tumbling vines. Palms with postures that would please Dr. Higgins line the streets, improbably punctuated by Norfolk pines. And serving as an eternally changing backdrop to it all is the infinite Pacific, a view we memorized over cups of cafe con leche at the little corner table in our living room on the seventh floor. Our eyes are failing, but that's one picture that will never fade.

Perhaps because it has been in a state of disrepair and decay for so long now, Lima looks best at night. For reasons which still don't seem clear, the people display an eternal hopefulness about their once-noble country. At night they come out in the streets -- to eat, drink, buy and sell, worship ... and sometimes toss dynamite bombs. They all want the same thing, it seems. They want their home to be a place they can love. But oh, how wide the chasms among their views of what a lovable place should look like. We will forever ache a little when we think of Peru, of the countless daily battles against obstacles that would overwhelm lesser men and women. Peru, we wish you well.