Dec 22: If I Wanted a Hangover, I'd Get Drunk

Up early on day two to go back to the airport and fly to Cusco. (A big shout-out to Lima's airport authority: that was the most efficient, pleasant, and low-agro airport experience we've ever had.) As soon as you get off the plane in Cusco the altitude (3500m) hits you with a faint lightheadedness; as the day progresses it moves on to a thundering headache and general naseua. It generally feels like a moderate hangover, only without that nuisance of having to get pleasantly pissed beforehand. Luckily they gave us a whopping two hours to acclimatize before our day's activities began – and during that two hours we also had to find somewhere to have lunch. Again, another beautiful hotel (this time a old monestary renovated into a 5-star hotel) was largely wasted as we had very little time there before our next guide came to pick us up.


Our guide in and around Cusco, Philip, was Andrew's Peruvian Mental Twin – they had the same opinions on religion, politics, economics, etc. He led us around the various churches and ruins in and around the city, plus through the many sidestreets that were very “authentic”: depressing poverty, wild dogs running everywhere, and unbelieveably narrow roads which were no wider than they had been when the Incans first laid them down. (We ended up at the front of a traffic jam caused by a family that had decided to roll a wheelchair-bound elderly woman the opposite way down the street. The road wasn't wide enough for the wheelchair plus our van, and they weren't backing up!)


An early night was required since the altitude sickness really started to kick in. The hotel had an option of oxygenating the room, but at the cost of $100USD, Andrew decided that sleep was the real antidote.