How do your lungs feel the first time they’re 11,152 feet above sea level? Same way they do at sea level–so long as you’re not walking or running or pulling or pushing or jumping or lifting or dancing or singing, or exerting yourself in any way. Basically, if you stand still and only move your eyeballs, you’re good. It took approximately half a minute for me to realize this. It was mid afternoon when we arrived in Cusco from Lima, which is a mere 1312 feet above sea level. Underachiever! I walked to the top of the steps leading down from the plane, hoisted my suitcase, slowly descended onto the tarmac, then stood there for a few seconds looking off at the hills surrounding us, then up at the brightest bluest sky ever. And then I took a slow, deep breath. Air didn’t feel any different than it did in Los Angeles—okay, maybe cleaner, but not necessarily lighter in any way. (I kept hearing the air was lighter. I didn’t know exactly what that meant, but I figured the moment I came into contact with it, I’d know. Nope.) But I couldn’t contain my excitement at being in the city any longer. Incan culture, a guinea pig lunch (don’t hate me animal lovers—it’s part of the experience), Machu Picchu. As I started for the doors leading into the main terminal, pulling at my carryon, said excitement led to my casual walk morphing into more of a light jog up a ramp. That’s when I heard one of the flight crew yell out for me to slow down, for us all to slow down. But he might as well have saved his breath. A mere twenty steps and I was hunched over gasping air. That’s right. Twenty steps along an incline and I had stopped moving completely. Me, Ms. “Hike-any-trail-you-put-in front-of-me.” It’s as if I had suddenly gained an extra two hundred pounds, then strapped another two hundred in ankle weights to my body, and started running up a mountain. My lungs were working overtime, heart beating faster, and all I’d done was walk fast!
At 16,830 feet, La Rinconada, also in Peru, is the highest region above sea level where there’s an actual human settlement. The population is listed as 50,000, but if I could be queen of the world for the length of this article, I would bar it from consideration. It’s a settlement of gold miners, and it seems like such a wretched place, the more successful ones call a region four thousand miles lower in altitude home. And who can blame them. There’s no plumbing or sanitation in La Rinconada, so that’s not a settlement, that’s hell. I’m a third world baby. I spent the very beginning of my existence at my grandmother’s house in a village in the mountainous interior of Jamaica. There was no plumbing there either—just an “outhouse”—and it traumatized me so much, to this day, I won’t go within twenty feet of a port-a-potty. So I looked up actual cities–places with infrastructure and restaurants, maybe a museum or two. Places with a population above 100,000. Places sane individuals would consider living or visiting. There are over 4000 such places in the world, but in terms of elevation, only eight are higher than Cusco.
It’s interesting that Machu Picchu gets so much glory, and you hear how high up it is, but Cusco, fifty miles southwest, is over three thousand miles higher than the renowned citadel. It’s a city built on hills, so you’re perpetually moving upwards, so if you can handle Cusco—Machu Picchu will be a breeze.
High altitude affects different folks differently. For instance, my other three friends had to deal with headaches a good portion of the time we were there, but I had no issues in that department. There were some bouts of light-headedness, nausea. The one thing all four of us did experience, was trouble sleeping. Coca leaves became our friend. Yes, the same coca leaves cocaine is made from, though it has to go through an intricate process to become the drug Tony Montana trafficked in Scarface. When we arrived at the airport, there was a big bowl there for us to grab from and chew on. It’s supposed to help with the altitude sickness by relieving some of the above-mentioned symptoms. Did it work? Not sure. Eventually my lungs didn’t smart as much and my heart didn’t feel like it was about to burst from my chest, but that might simply have been due to me finally becoming more acclimated to Cusco’s air. Overall, we were most worried about how it would affect my friend Joy, who is asthmatic, but she was a trooper and ended up no worse than the rest of us—with the exception of the Limbus trek.
At least two people who had visited Cusco urged us to find Limbus Restobar and enjoy a drink there. It’s located north westerly of San Blas Temple Temple, so we walked down Calle Tandapata, made a right onto Calle Pasñapakana, then began our climb. On maps, the bar doesn’t appear to be that far up into the hills, but once we started our ascent, it seemed to take forever. It was like we were in a bad video game where every time we thought we had reached the end, more steps would immediately materialize in front of us. I’m sure it didn’t help the time equation any that we stopped and paused for breath every fifteen or so seconds. At one point, Joy doubled over, stuck her hand up and began waving. With what little breath she had left, she called out, “You guys go on. Save yourselves. I’ll get there when I can…if I can.” Our party of four had a Three Musketeers moment. “All for one and one for all.” We weren’t about to leave anybody behind. (Although, to be totally on the up and up, I think we might have used her asthma as an excuse to take more breaks ourselves.) But, after moving even slower than a group of octogenarians in mid July Miami, we made it. Was the bar worth it? This story might have had an even better button had it not been, but it was. Because, honestly, pretty much everywhere in Cusco is worth it.
Limbus has a balcony running its length with absolutely nothing to obstruct your panoramic view, high above the city. But it took us so long to get there, the weather had completely changed from the warm, still air there had been when we started out. Now the wind was whipping up and it had the feel of a storm coming in, so we opted to stay inside. If we wanted to freeze, we’d just go back to our Airbnb. (If you haven’t read my previous entry, do so and you’ll be able to pick up on what I’m laying down.) So we stayed inside, noshed a little, looked out onto Cusco, and enjoyed a pisco sour…or two…or three…just happy that our journey back into the city was all downhill.
Tips:
- Take it slow. Build in extra time to rest for all activities. We had breakfast at this great spot not far from Limbus (but not as high up), and as we were leaving, a guy walking past straight fell out. I got the feeling the restaurant workers saw this a lot because they jumped right into action, rushing him to a chair, bringing over some smelling salts, fanning him. I’d never seen someone’s eyes so unfocused.
- Think about breaking up the city into portions and exploring smaller, more specific portions each day, rather than trying to jump around from one area to the next.
- I love to walk when I get to a new city. It’s the best way to see things, but every now and then, you just gotta hail a cab.
- Drink the tea. Who knows, all those people touting it can’t be wrong
- Take it easy on the liquor
Next post…I’ll round out Peru (for now) with the tale of Machu Picchu and the Killer Shrimp!
