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Jun 13, 2004
June 4 5:15pm
Chivay, Peru (inside the Colca Valley)
I´m lying on my bed with a pounding headache and its the best I´ve felt in 6 hours.
It turns out altitude sickness is real, and it really sucks. At least it doesnt involve diarrhea (yet). Also, the local remedies look like contraband siezed from a 8th-grade druggie party: Massive amounts of coca leaves (reminds me of kids that bury weed in wet ground for hallucinogenic effects) and cotton swabs soaked in corn-moonshine for huffing. If this stuff doesnt work, I half-expect an offer from the secret stash of Peruvian payote.
Note to self: 2 nights at 8000 ft. is not enough time to aclimatize for an ascent to 14,600 ft and back down to 11,000 in one day. When we crossed 12,000 ft. in the bus today, I really started to feel a headache. Before the trip I read altitude sickness can be fatal. After 1 minute above 14000 ft, I was wondering what the hell was taking it so long.
I was in a cold sweat, seeing stars, with my skin hurting everywhere (Did you know this was possible???) and sprawled out over my bus seat while EVERYONE else was totally fine, getting out to take pictures at viewpoints and, quite embarassingly, being extra nice to me. Now I know how Goines must have felt that night he drank 6 Red-Bulls in 2 hours.
Outside the bus window, the mountains were magestic and larger than life. Inside the bus, in semi-fetal position on my bus seat, I was trying to think of any way to go unconscious and escape the pain, seriously contemplating if the big German guy behind me could knock me out with one punch like in the movies. I hadn´t heard of strangle-mugging yet or I would have considered that also. Eventually my koala instincts kicked in and I passed-out.
Now back down at 11,000 ft I feel totally normal and so much better. How weird. This village where we´re spending the night in the valley is really great: There are locals walking their herds of alpacas and sheep in the streets, using donkeys to carry straw, and there are pigs wandering around too. Lots of stone walls and houses with corregated aluminum roofs with rocks holding down the sheet metal so the wind doesnt blow it off. Some houses are drying corn on the roof so they dont need the rocks. Pretty cool stuff. Also, the people really wear the traditional indian clothing here, although the really flashy colors are only used for ceremonial things like dances. What´s strange is to see the mix of old and new clothes: I walked by a farmer wearing indian clothes and a yankees baseball cap, and a little boy walking sheep wearing a yellow "Maui !" t-shirt.
.... Update: 5:00 am ....
Turns out I celebrated too early: altitude sickness can reappear. A skull-splitting headache pounded me into submission only one our after I declared my triumph. Very Greek. I went to reception to beg for aspirin, but I looked so bad the woman suggested that I needed some oxygen. The only other time I´ve taken O2 was in a trendy oxygen bar in SF: They "scent" the 02 and you´re supposed to get a natural high, but you´re really just sitting around for the 20 minutes wondering what kind of secret handshake or codeword it takes for them to ditch the O2 and hook up the good stuff you KNOW they have hiding in back. This time it was more enjoyable, but not apple-scented.
It was a 5 minute experience among the most soothing and comforting of my life. There´s just something about being taken care by a woman speaking another language. I wasnt sure if the gas was working at first...and I felt a little weird lying on my bed with the hotel receptionist sitting in a chair bedside with a massive gas tank. But then the magic happened: she told me to close my eyes, and still speaking in soothing spanish, proceeded to give me a temple and forehead massage for the duration of the treatment. Now THAT´S service. This single experience has totally altered the qualities I´m looking for in a wife, or at least the priority. Gives temple massages when I have a debilitating headache? Required.
If I haven´t convinced you how seriously bad I felt by now, just know that I skipped dinner. Actually I slept through it last night, going to bed at 7:30pm, waking up this morning at 2am and trying to fall asleep for the past 3 hours in bed. I´ve only skipped dinner 4 or 5 times in my life (I even ate when I had scarlet fever for 5 days when I was 12), which I´m sure is apparent from all the photos of me in tight jeans, the only kind I wear now.
We leave in 1 hour, 6am, to go see the condors at sunrise and the rest of the Colca Canyon. We´ve already driven past some really different, some just extremely rural and poor, indian villages.
Posted at 09:52 pm by davidraske
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