During the previous night, we had travelled to almost 4000 metres above sea level; the bus was cramped and stank, was almost 2 hours late and when it arrived someone was in our seat (they got kicked out though). How I love travelling! Despite the driver slamming the bus round terrifying hairpin bends and wailing babies, we did manage to sleep, and when the light came we were rewarded with an amazing panorama of soaring green forested mountains, the clouds coagulating around their lower parts reminding us of how high we were.
Plaza de Armas and Catedral in Ayacucho
Altitude sickness, or soroche, kicked in before we arrived at our next stop Ayacucho, a small but grand Andean village with stacks of churches and colonial buildings. We fended off the inevitable attention of taxi drivers (wanting to drive us 4 blocks as it turned out!) and dragged ourselves into town to regroup. The sickness was at its strongest, so we turned to the classic remedy, coca tea which seemed to have a small but noticeable effect and retired to a friendly little hotel – my first successful bout of bargaining completely in spanish. We slept all morning, and unfortunately altitude sicknes really began to kick in in the afternoon – think this is going to take a few days to get over. Laura is also ill so it looks like we will be staying here for a while.
I ventured out later in the day and got some provisions for the patient, then we ended up having an invalid’s dinner of dry biscuits, marmite and butter, rounded off with orange segments. I guess we are not exactly living it up at the moment, but this may change.
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