Perú: The voyage from Cusco to Machu Picchu

After reading this post, you will probably think  it was dumb to embark on an 18 hour bus ride to the Andes after feeling sick all day. I’m aware of how big of a mistake this was, so swallow your judgment and read.

 

My mother and I stayed with a host family for two weeks in Perύ while I took an intensive Spanish course. Now, if you should know anything about Cusco, know that it is dry, polluted and so arid that stairs are a cardiovascular accomplishment.

 

Up until this adventure, my altitude sickness had been nothing worse than perpetual shortness of breath. So, on the day we left for Machu Picchu, I ignored my queasiness even as it worsened while we awaited our chariot.

 

Anyway, we planned to spend the weekend in the Andes (1000 meters lower than Cusco, so yay oxygen) and visit Machu Picchu. Unable to afford to fly both ways, we took an all-night bus ride on Friday and a plane back on Sunday.
 

My mother, assuring me that the equivalent of $3 had bought us comfortable fold-out beds, failed to mention that THEY ONLY COST $3.

 

As you can probably gather, we got exactly what we paid for.

 

The bus, smelling like Satan’s armpit, was full of...farmers? They all had noisy chickens, straw hats and transistor radios. It was loud, crowded, and stuffy, all of the perfect ingredients for a great time.

 

I had a fever at this point and passed out against the window. Waking up abruptly, I vomited on my mother’s feet, and she informed me that we were about 30 minutes into the entire fiasco, whereas I felt like I had been born and raised in that wretched vehicle.

 

Anyway, without getting graphic, we cleaned up using our only sweatshirts (because we’re going to a mountain range, it’ll be warm, right? Wrong). As I lay in my tiny, unyielding seat staring at Jim Carrey’s The Mask on the screen above, I tried not to imagine the tiny mountainous paths this rickety bus was hurdling down.

 

I don’t remember sleeping, really, but suddenly the bus stopped and the movie screen above is frozen on Mr. Carrey’s stupid face.
 

 

Jim Carrey attributed to:

http://www.filmindustrynetwork.biz/wp-content/uploads/2014/06/the-mask-world-cup-630x349.jpg

 

It’s 2am and we’ve reached a border.

 

Two big policemen get on the bus with flashlights and guns and I’m suddenly feeling queasy for a different reason. As they make their way towards us, they are checking people’s papers and pulling some lucky individuals off the bus.

 

At this point, let me reinforce the fact that I am the owner of one of the only two American passports this bus has carried in a long time, and these policemen didn’t look very friendly.

 

“Mom, is this safe?” I whispered to her in the seat next to me. I regretted asking when I saw her face in the green light coming off of Jim Carrey.  

 

Anyway, we arrived un-murdered and un-pillaged at 6:30 that morning, greeted by a frosty morning air and no means with which to clothe ourselves warmly.  

 

We did, however, survive what was apparently the coldest spell experienced in that region for years by wearing the hotel blankets around town.

 

As you can see, my mom wore them nicely.
 

 

And we made it to Machu Picchu, so with pain comes gain.
 

Also, here’s a llama I saw, because Perύ.