While Laura slept (in between bouts of running to the toilet), I explored further in Ayacucho. As it was Sunday there were lots of families out and about, as well as a small and rather sweet military display in the main square with formation marching and a small brass band. I popped my head into a couple of churches which were celebrating mass; one a very old-school traditional catholic mass and it was interesting to note that the preacher used the same cadences as all the sermons I had to listen to as a kid. The other was a happy, clappy service in a modern building, where everyone was greeted with a handshake as they came in off the street.
Downtown Ayacucho
I started to notice signs for something called Mondongo everywhere, which seemed to be a Sunday-only delicacy. I’ll have some of that, I thought, and was subsequently reminded of why I hate tripe so much – especially for breakfast. I seemed to be in the minority though. I left most of it, and headed for the Mercardo where I saw lots of severed pigs heads and Quechan people selling crafts, ingredients for charms and natural healing and so on. I stopped for a delicious, and cheap, pineapple juice which is becoming a firm favourite.
Waiting to buy bus tickets
Back at the ranch I gathered up Laura and we hobbled off to book our onward bus tickets, another step forward in negotiating in Spanish and working out what the hell is going on around me. We were both feeling queasy and the effects of the altitude were lingering, so we decided on another quiet night and day to follow.
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