The high life… literally
Almost exactly 24 hours have passed since the wheels touched down, and I felt light and dizzy the minute I stepped out of the little old-fashioned airport. Having spent my formative years in Colorado, I’m no stranger to high altitude, but this place is twice as high as Denver, the Mile High City, and a thousand feet higher than Leadville, the Two Mile High Town.
I have climbed eight or nine 14,000-foot peaks in my life. In that case, you’re just kind of up and down in a gradual way. Since you probably live in Denver or Boulder at 5,260 feet above sea level, camp the night before at 11,000 feet before the final ascent and only spend a few minutes at the peak, it’s really no big deal.
Going directly from sea level to 11,000+ feet is a different experience. Fortunately, they have herbs and plants here which they happily offer upon your statement of being mareada (which I was). These herbs and plants actually help… and why wouldn’t they? The earth gives us what we need, when and where we need it. Peaches in the Georgia summer (peaches tangibly lower body temperature and provide electrolytes specifically lost by summer sweat) oranges and other citrus in the winter when the body craves vitamin C to fight off the winter colds. And so on… literally hundreds of thousands of examples of safe and effective natural remedies, but go ahead and ask your doctor about that toxic chemical they’re advertising on TV.
(Sorry-not-sorry for kicking a bit of truth. Now let’s get back on topic.)
After just 24 hours, I’m no longer huffing and puffing after walking a couple blocks. So that’s good. Impressive, too, considering I’m an overweight smoker of 40 years.
The taxi driver from the airport told me as if he were stating a mathematical law that “la comida es mejor aquí” when I mentioned my wonderful gastronomical experience in Lima. He also suggested maté de coca and Agua de Flórida for altitude sickness. More on the latter later…
He may or may not be right… but the food here is at least as good as it was in Lima. It’s different, though. Lima has great seafood and tropical fruits. Here they have a thousand types of quinoa and pretty little tasty flowers and alpaca and guinea pigs and all kinds of stuff that grows within 4000 vertical feet of here.
I think I figured out why the food is so exceptional in Perú: This is basically California on steroids. It has a large north-south latitude range and a very large vertical range (0-22,000ft — Second only to India, a much larger country) that produces a vast array of fresh ingredients for well trained chefs. Indian food is wonderful too, but Peru is a lot cleaner — Japan levels of clean and tidy. It’s more comparable to California than India, but this place puts California, USA to shame in terms of its culinary universe, and that’s saying a lot. No shade on California (especially after the fires).
Anyway, back to my first impression of Cuzco…
It’s interesting that somehow the natives here remind me of Colorado “high country” people. Mountain folk just have a certain aura about them, a mellowness. Here it is amplified (“amplified mellowness” — there may be a lyric in there somewhere). I’ve encountered many people — including the taxi driver mentioned above and shop girl to be mentioned below — who just have a glow. Words do not capture this, but if you’re a high viber, you know how it is to be able to read people’s etheric bodies. It protects you from bad people, but it reveals the beauty of good people too. What can I say? I’m a hippy-dippy aura reader. 👽*shrug* If you don’t like it, move along; I probably don’t want to exchange energy and time with you anyway.
The weirdest experience I’ve had here so far was wandering into a little knick-knack shop to buy Agua de Flórida, a fragrant herbal concoction to relieve altitude sickness. The bored-looking (and very pretty) shop girl offered me a massage when I paid. I didn’t take her up on it. I don’t think I could satisfy her with my current cardiovascular deficiency at this altitude anyway. It was strange; flattering, but strange. She intimated that this is not something she does normally, usually it’s busier, etc. … must have been ovulating or whatever. Women are weird. South America is weird.
Another thing that was otherworldly was last night at 10:00 pm. This whole city went dead silent at the stroke of 10. I mean, it was so soundless that when I turned out the lights to go to sleep, slipping into slumber — seldom and issue for me — challenged me just because it was soooo eerily quiet!
I slept like a log once the silence became comfortable, and a single little birdy woke me up well before I had to log in for work.
After work, I ate alpaca meat and bright-pink organic quinoa for the first time and went for a walk (and encountered the horny shop girl, among other things). Composing this post, I watch the intense clouds change colors over the enormous mountains in the moments when I need to collect my thoughts between sentences or words.
One last thing: if you come to Cuzco, bring a warmish jacket and hat. It gets pretty chilly at night. Hotel rooms have heaters, not air conditioners here. Cuzco is cool, year-round. The sidewalks are lovely too. Considering the terrain, that is miraculous.
My mind has been racing like it hasn’t in many years. Maybe it’s the maté coca. I have a lot more to say. These are just my first impressions. Thanks for reading, and check back soon.
Peace, love and all the good stuff,
Chuck











