The Road to the Sacred Valley: A Personal Tale of Peru’s Past and Present

I was born in Peru to a Peruvian mother and a Dutch father. At just five years old, my family moved to the Netherlands, where I spent most of my formative years amidst the flat, orderly Dutch landscape. Raised with traditional Dutch values, my world was predictable, measured, and structured. But in 1982, after completing my textile engineering studies in the Netherlands, I returned to Peru for the first time as a young adult. I had always dreamed of reconnecting with the land of my birth, yet I had no idea what to expect.

Stepping off the plane felt like entering an entirely different world—a vivid, chaotic blend of colors, sounds, and emotions. It was here that I first encountered the raw energy of a country in the midst of political and social upheaval. It was also the first time I was confronted with poverty on such an intimate scale. Having been sheltered from this side of life, the stark contrast between what I had known and what I was now witnessing left a lasting impression on me. The difference was striking, and it made me reconsider my perspective on many things—particularly our Western attitude of feeling 'entitled' to a comfortable life, constantly complaining about the smallest inconveniences, and taking so much for granted. It was a huge wake-up call, forcing me to reassess how much we often overlook or fail to appreciate in our privileged lives.

Despite the challenges, I found myself drawn to Peru and its people. The following year, I returned to the country and continued to explore its complexities. Eventually, I secured a position as a textile buying agent stationed in Lima for an international trading company with headquarters in the Netherlands. This marked the beginning of a new phase in my life, where I would spend more time in Peru and immerse myself further in the country’s reality.

It was 1985, and the country was embroiled in violent conflict. Terrorist attacks were a daily reality as the Maoist guerrilla group, Sendero Luminoso (Shining Path), waged a brutal campaign that claimed between 50,000 and 70,000 lives. Armed soldiers stood at nearly every street corner in Lima, and car bombs were an ever-present threat. The economy was in free fall, with hyperinflation, food shortages, and mass unemployment making daily life a constant struggle. Power outages were frequent, and people stood in long lines just to buy basic necessities.

Then there was the curfew—el toque de queda. After midnight, the streets emptied, and soldiers had the authority to shoot without warning. It was a time of fear and uncertainty, yet somehow, amidst the chaos, I found hope in the resilience and strength of the people I met.

My job took me across Peru, visiting textile factories, but after some years, I was forced to return to the Netherlands. Nevertheless, the memory of the brave, warm-hearted people I met during those years stayed with me.

In September 1992, a turning point came: Abimael Guzmán, the leader of Sendero Luminoso, was captured. Over the next 18 months, 3,600 of his followers surrendered or were captured, and the political violence that had plagued the country began to subside.

By 1996, Peru was on the path to recovery. That year, I made a bold decision. I purchased farmland in the Sacred Valley of the Incas, nestled between Cusco and Machu Picchu. With no clear plan, but a deep love for the land, I started building a home, stables, and acquiring Peruvian horses to explore the surrounding mountains. Travel on horseback soon became my passion, and before long, I founded an equestrian travel company.

The early years were tough. Tourism in Peru was still in its infancy, but word spread about our horseback rides. Soon, our trips were featured by the South American Explorers Club and specialised equestrian travel agencies. Horse magazines and travel guidebooks began writing about our experiences, and National Geographic even named our Sacred Valley ride one of the "Top 10 Horseback Rides in the World."

Over the years, I have had the privilege of introducing the Peruvian Paso horse—Peru’s best kept secret—and the breathtaking landscapes of my homeland to hundreds of horse lovers from around the globe. It has been an extraordinary journey—one that has allowed me to connect with Peru in ways I never imagined and share its beauty with others who are eager to discover it.

Peru is a land of remarkable diversity, home to 11 eco-regions and 84 of the 117 life zones found across the globe. Its vast landscapes are shaped by dramatic geographical features, from the towering Andes and lush Amazon rainforest to the arid coastal plains. The country can be divided into three main regions based on altitude: the Coast (Costa), the Mountains (Sierra), and the Jungle (Selva).

Divided into 25 regions, including the constitutional province of El Callao (home to Peru’s primary port), the capital, Lima, was founded by the Spanish in 1535. It became the heart of the Viceroyalty of Peru and, later, the capital of the Republic of Peru after independence in 1821. Today, Lima is home to nearly a third of the country’s population, while two-thirds of Peruvians live along the coastal region.

Peruvians take immense pride in their culture, from their love of food and Pisco to their beautiful Peruvian Paso horses and national soccer team—though, sadly, the team doesn't always bring home the win. Family, music, and celebration are central to life here, making Peru a place where joy and festivity are deeply valued.

When I first arrived in Peru, I was baffled by how often people were late—at times, it drove me crazy. But over time, I came to understand that in Peru, time is a much more fluid concept. This reflection made me realise how obsessed many Western cultures are with the clock, where every minute is scheduled, and life feels like a constant rush. In Peru, time moves at a slower pace. If someone shows up a little late, you just smile and call it "Peruvian time."

Of course, there are other behaviours that might seem strange to someone from a Western background—such as the casual disregard for turn signals when driving or the bureaucratic maze of red tape and corruption. But I don’t see these as uniquely "Peruvian." Rather, they are common in many developing countries.

What truly stands out about Peruvians is their warmth and friendliness. Once you get to know them, the formalities melt away. It’s common for people to hug one another when greeting, regardless of gender. And in social settings, when a man is introduced to a woman, a kiss on the cheek is expected, not a handshake. These small gestures may seem unfamiliar, but they foster an atmosphere of closeness and trust.

Peru’s vastness, with its countless ethnic groups and regional traditions, makes it difficult to define a singular "Peruvian culture." The country is still grappling with its identity, and one of its biggest challenges remains overcoming discrimination based on race, gender, and appearance. This prejudice is not one-sided. Lighter skin is often associated with social and economic privilege, but indigenous and mestizo communities can face similar discriminatory behaviours. Many indigenous people, especially in the Sierra, still blame "the white man" for their suffering, reflecting on a history of colonisation and exploitation. While some idealise their Incan ancestors as symbols of a perfect society, this view overlooks the harsh realities of Inca rule, such as forced labor and social control through fear. Ordinary people had little autonomy, and resistance was met with severe punishment. The prejudices that have been passed down through generations in these communities often mirror the discrimination they face today, with harmful stereotypes being perpetuated both by indigenous people themselves and by the wider society.

While the legacy of the Incas is undeniable, it is essential to recognise that the past—both its triumphs and flaws—is behind us. Peru today is a multicultural society, with a rich blend of indigenous, Spanish, African, and other influences. The challenge now is to foster a sense of unity and inclusion, where all Peruvians, regardless of their physical appearance or social background, can thrive. The Incas and the Spanish Conquistadores are part of our history; what matters now is who we are today: a vibrant, diverse, and proud people who love their country.

Eddy