The highs of Cusco

We happily paid the few extra Peruvian Soles for some additional comfort over the arduous twelve hour bus to Cusco.

The night bus arrived over an hour late and with the curtains already drawn and the lights out we stumbled in the darkness to find our seats. Upon determining our places, two small plastic trays laden with processed snacks were thrust to our faces. We picked at a couple of things and chowed down on the rest. With our bellies content, the mechanical hum of the engine and the warmth of blankets quickly put us to sleep.

Waking the following morning we found ourselves high in the Andes on a winding road that tightly choked the voluptuous curves of the mountains. As we ascended to the heights of Cusco by winding and spiralling through the magnificent landscapes, we began to feel nauseous and light-headed. Initially struck with light symptoms of altitude sickness they steadily worsened as we ascended to 3,400m (11,150ft). By the time we arrived at our destination we could add a shortness of breath, increased waves of dizziness and nausea to our reaction to the elevation. After a short ordeal at the bus station to retrieve our bags we bartered with a taxi driver to take us to our hostel.

For the next couple of hours we were held prisoner to the plumber who was servicing our room. Not wishing a stranger to be left alone with our bags we took the time to get acclimated to Cusco’s dizzying heights. After a series of banging, clanging and mopping the tradesman left, leaving us to get a lay of the land and search for some suppressant to our ails. Walking was tough and every movement was more taxing than the last, a couple of times we propped our weight onto a nearby wall or lamp post to stop us from blacking out and keeling over. Every chemist we passed was filled with pressurised portable oxygen tanks and various medicines to combat the hypoxia. However what we were looking for was the coca leaf, a cheaper and natural alternative to the elevation. Readily available at nearly every corner in Cusco, coca leaves can be chewed, boiled or brewed coming in the form of a soft chewy sweet, as a tea or in its raw leaf form. As we walked the city we grabbed every variety possible to ingest.

The coca leaf is bitter in taste and the texture is like that of a leaf (no surprises there then), within a couple of minutes a tingling and numbness could be felt on the insides of the cheeks, gums and mouth. And within fifteen minutes our symptoms had completely subsided.

Not wishing to run before we could properly walk we took things easy and grabbed a bite to eat at an ‘authentic English pub’. Authenticity is something that has always bothered me when traveling as it is a word that is frivolously used by expats and locals alike to describe a restaurant, eatery or a drinking hole. My memories of home were never sitting somewhere so deeply saturated in British memorabilia that it would make the strongest Anglophile cry.  Rather it was a simple affair with friends seated on plump wooden stools surrounded by outdated decorum exchanging banter over a beer about football, women or more drink with some mild pop music playing in the background. Cusco’s ‘English pub’ was derived from the imagination of Dick van Dyke’s character in Mary Poppins. Already seated we ordered some extortionate items from their food and drinks menu, ate, drank and left.

After that disappointment we headed back to a plumber free room, we had eight days in Cusco which was plenty of time to explore.

Cusco stands near to the Urumbamba valley (Sacred Valley), the very area in which Hiram Bingham found the ancient Incan city of Machu Picchu in 1911, named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1983 it’s home to many inspiring works of architecture, a chocolate museum, a multitude of restaurants and various trekking trails to eat away at one’s time whilst savouring in the beauty of the Andes. Our hostel’s location was close to amenities and transport, it was safe and cheap enough that we could use it as a base camp to explore the nearby areas and leave the majority of luggage without fear of theft.

© John Brownlie 2012

* Cruz del Sur runs buses from Nazca to Cusco, prices range from s. /150-180 ($60-70). The journey takes between 9-12 hours. Prices should include meals/snacks and basic bedding.

Piura to Trujillo: An introduction to Peru

A traveler’s nightmare is to fall foul to a stomach virus whilst in a 3rd world country. The difficulty of finding good medical attention and sanitised meals in an unfamiliar place, coupled with the feeling of helplessness and the inability to continue as a prisoner to the bathroom are all overwhelmingly troublesome. So when we arrived in Piura at nightfall and found the symptoms of Baños had returned, but this time to me, we were both understandably concerned. With the added pressure of an unreturnable deposit on a room in Trujillo, some six hours away, we had to find a solution.

Fortunately for us we had the help of an English doctor whom we befriended on the way. His writings on a scrap of paper gave us a list of the medication needed for a speedy recovery. All we had to do was buy the items from any local pharmacy, but as we’ve come to find, it’s never quite that simple in Latin America.

The next morning we set off early heading towards Piura’s downtown in the search for some medicine.

The first pharmacist we came across was a couple of miles from our hostel, they just pointed us to an identical pharmacy next door. I handed the good doctor’s scribblings to them and they looked blankly for a moment before handing it back to me shaking their head. Persisting with the assistant, I drew the attention of her two colleagues who joined in, both giving the same reaction. The trio unable to speak English and I Spanish had us at a stalemate, to combat this I read the writings aloud slowly as you would do to a small child. Seeing a flicker of understanding I pushed on, ‘Soy enferma’ (I sick), holding my stomach and doing a genuinely pained face. The expression had them giggling ‘Blood…’ I said, squatting, ‘no sick’, pretending to vomit whilst saying no. Not knowing the word blood, I pointed to my veins ‘Roja’ then motioning slitting my wrists and imaginary red stuff spurting out. Nothing… ‘You know Twilight? Vampires?’ I showed my teeth and made a pincer with my hand, ‘Blood… roja’ I showed them my canines and shoved my contorted hand to my neck and mimed more blood spurting. ‘Blood? OK’ came the response – although that may have been the fear – ‘OK, blood, toilet, no sick, oww… pain… stomach… hot… fever’ acting out the symptoms, ‘Cuantas dias? was the bemused assistants reply. I pointed to the calendar giving a detailed account of when the symptoms occurred through mime.

Eventually fifteen minutes into my theatrical debut in Peru we had an understanding. They gave me the medication and carefully wrote and explained (in Spanish) the quantity and amount to take.

Running back I grabbed a coffee to wash down the meds. Within an hour they were working, we checked out and made our way to the bus station for the midday bus to Trujillo. Consistent with all our previous journeys in Latin America, the six hour bus ride took longer than expected. Luckily for me, the drugs held. We made it to our sea-view hostel after 9pm.

© John Brownlie 2012

* LINEA buses run from Piura to Trujillo. Expect to pay around s./30 ($14)