How high?

It’s a week since we were wandering about Cuzco with Francis and a few days since we’ve been back and getting ourselves back into our “normal” lives.  We were away four weeks and during that time, the long-awaited OFSTED inspection has happened at work, our boiler has broken and been repaired (thank goodness for housesitters!) and whilst our assorted volunteer commitments have been put one one side, life here, of course, has carried on as usual.

Oh, and it has rained.  A lot.

Thankfully, we live on the top of a hill, so unless that valley filled with water first, we’re safe from rising water.  However, there is still the threat of running water – streams and rivers begin somewhere, after all, and the constantly flowing water across several local hillside roads are a reminder that all of this wet weather can affect us all.

Thankfully, we are warm and dry here at home.  I have to say, however, that it feels so good to be back at “ordinary” altitude again; about 600 feet above sea level around here.

I really did worry about altitude sickness when we were planning our trip, though.  We’d heard that it’s unpredictable, that it doesn't depend on age, level of fitness or previous experience of travelling to high places.  I read articles like this and scared myself enough to take the whole subject seriously when we were planning our trip.  After all, who wants to go on holiday to a dream destination only to find themselves feeling poorly?

So, we took advice from our travel agent, who suggested that, having flown into Cuzco (11,000ft) from our hotel in a coastal suburb of Lima (where the altitude is stated as 16ft!), we go immediately to Urubamba (9,420ft) to acclimatise for a few days.  She also advised that we should do very little whilst we were there, that we should not drink alcohol but drink plenty of water.  Adriana reinforced this by adding that we should eat lightly and breathe deeply too, particularly if we were feeling breathless.

When I looked at our programme, I felt sorry that we weren’t going to do our usual thing of hitting the ground running, packing in as much activity as we could during our time there, especially when I read about the markets, the crafts, the colour!  Just half day activities, then, with a fairly relaxed start and an early finish.  How would we pass the rest of the time?

Thankfully, that had been considered already and, of course, we were not the first people to be taking this advice.  The Sol y Luna offered more than a mere room for the night and was a pleasant place to mooch around, to spend time relaxing and offered us space to spend a few hours reading, blogging, breathing deeply and drinking water.  Having decided to take the “drug free route” to Machu Picchu, then we needed to take time.

We found ourselves feeling breathless and slightly “spaced out”, though after a couple of days, that feeling wore off a little.  I wasn’t hungry in the slightest, so the advice to eat lightly was no problem to follow, but I was always thirsty and could have kept on drinking bottle after bottle of water.  The worst aspect of the altitude was the dryness of the air and the effects on breathing, especially at night.  I would wake with a blocked nose and dry mouth, my sinuses hurt and as a result, I had a headache for much of the time.  I felt better after a glass of water, but waking every couple of hours feeling thirsty soon takes its toll.  An early morning shower was bliss – standing under running water in a steamy bathroom was a great way to clear the passages and Casita 38 soon acquired the heady camphor and eucalyptus scented aroma of Tiger Balm!

During these days, we spent time at higher altitudes, visiting villages further up the valley and testing ourselves by going that bit further each time but returning to our safe haven after a couple of hours.  Having managed that, did that mean we’d be ok?  Who knew?  The morning at Chinchero (12,000ft) was the test. 

Well, you might recall that Chinchero was the home of the weaving cooperative, the textile town and as a result, you probably won’t be surprised to read that I was so distracted by all the wonderful things around me, I forgot to think about how I was feeling!

As a result, by the time we reached Agua Calientes  (6,690ft), we were not only feeling more comfortable but also feeling less anxious about altitude generally and thankfully, that last push up the hill to Machu PIcchu (8,000ft) was fine.  It’s interesting, though, how a change of just a thousand feet can make such a difference – the whole time we were in the area, we were acutely aware of the altitude by simply assessing of how we felt.  I spent the whole week with a sinus-related headache but the joy of being in such an exciting place meant that I frequently forgot about it!

 

Cuzco (11,000ft) was the last stop on our itinerary, then, and with the exception of Chinchero, was also the highest spot.  The dry sinuses and slight breathlessness had become the norm by then and we’d got used to doing what we could to manage it all.  We were still taking it slowly, still found climbing stairs more of an effort than usual and were still drinking bottle after bottle of water.  The relief of having escaped the altitude sickness was enormous but the prospect of descending to a more comfortable level was the best of all.  Our hotel offered an increased oxygen supply to our room via the air conditioning, but having got this far, we didn’t take them up on it. 

I referred to my toothpaste in an earlier blog post.  Of course, the expansion of all bottles and tubes in our bags continued throughout the week and opening anything for the first time had to be done with caution.  On returning home, the reverse happened and we discovered every tube and bottle had squeezed in on itself.  Nothing could beat the feeling of waking up with a clear nose and no headache, though.

Lessons learned?  That we were right to take the potential of altitude sickness seriously but that it’s possible to lessen the risk by taking time to acclimatise.  Who knows if we’d have been ok regardless?  But having invested so much in terms of time, effort and money to get to Peru, it just had to be worth taking a few more days to minimise the chances of being too ill to see what we’d come all that way for.

The effects vanished almost as soon as we touched down in Lima.  The photo of the yarn hanging above was taken in the lobby of the airport hotel where we spent the afternoon sitting in comfortable armchairs and noticing that for the first time in a week, we weren’t thirsty.

We celebrated with a Cusquena beer each!

Hotel Art

It’s ages since I did an “hotel art” post, but the Palacio Nazarenes in Cuzco inspired me to post a few photographs which may inspire you, too.

 

Now, I like to see original work in hotels rather than “art by the yard”, but for this once, I’ll make an exception!

(The Palacio Nazarenes is possibly the first hotel we’ve visited with an “artist in residence”.  This gentleman was sitting at his loom in a corner of the cloistered courtyard, weaving a tapestry from a photograph of the original.)

He had no English and I had only a few words of Spanish, so details are sketchy.  I know he’s using cotton, dyed with natural plantstuffs but what I don’t know is if he created the smaller version which hung along the wall from his loom.  Anyway, it was fascinating to watch him work, even if he did seem slightly uncomfortable with me looking over his shoulder!

Most of the art around the hotel was original in every sense of the word.  I loved the spontaneity of this border, the life and energy of those curves and the slight irregularity of the pattern.

I left this photograph uncropped to illustrate how high on the wall this little cupboard was hung and the asymmetric painted detail on each side.  I wonder what was kept in there?

Because, the hotel has been created by the renovation of a 16th century Carmelite convent and although I am sure that their faith and devotion was fulfilling enough, I can’t help but think that these beautiful wall paintings must have been as much of a delight to them as they were to us.

The details continued throughout the hotel and, in this case, into the adjoining lobby.

Though I don’t think the Carmelites would have had much use for decorative sugar swirlers, do you?  Perhaps a small piece of soap or a reel of thread may have been of more practical use.

There were some corners we didn’t discover until it was almost time to leave.

But there were others which we noticed the minute we stepped inside!

I approved of the choice of reading material in the gift shop, too!

But my favourite picture hung in our room.  I was so desperate to get a good photograph of it and failed miserably – all ten pictures that I took have dreadful reflections and sad to say, this is the best.  I loved the shape of the figures in the watercolour, the postures and the spirit of the little band, making its way across the fields.  Somehow, they look so Peruvian.

It was a wrench to leave, even though we really were ready for home.  I hope we’ll be able to return there someday and that, when we do, we find the same warm and friendly people waiting for us.

Still, it was so good to climb into our own bed last night!

On our way home

I’m sure that, like us, you’ve listened to the aircraft safety announcement and wondered how anyone really needs instructions on how to fasten and unfasten their safety belt?

It was time to leave this lovely place and using every spare minute to pop outside and take photographs whilst we waited for Marco to take us to the airport, I nearly came a cropper with the poser girls outside the church next door.  Spotting my camera, she grabbed the reins and I scuttled back inside, chased by lady and llama – it could have been a scene from a Benny Hill show!

Anyway, back to the story.  Whilst checking in at Cusco airport, we followed a super cool young man with backward facing baseball cap and ripped jeans though the security and on to the waiting area by the gate.  Clearly rather anxious, he came and sat next to us and asked in super fast Spanish, if he was in the right place (we think that’s what he asked, anyway!)  My hero looked at the paper he was showing us and seeing the same flight number, said “si” and indicated that we too were on the same flight.  Gestures of sticking together all round! 

As the time went by and announcements were made, he looked at his paper again and queried where he should go – Peruvian airport boarding gates have several queues depending on seat number, so we pointed out the line he’d need to join and went to stand in ours.  We waved and smiled when we boarded and finally called “ciao!” at the baggage carousel in Lima.  All ok.

From our seats fairly near the front of the plane, it was fascinating to watch as people boarded.  Alessandra, the flight attendant welcomed every single one of us as if we were family.  An unaccompanied child was given a hug and a kiss and gathered up to be taken to a seat, others were told where their seat number was to be found and advice was given about where to place their luggage.  Because clearly, for quite a few people – including, we think, our new friend - this was their very first flight.

Having noticed this, the announcements including the seatbelt instructions took on a new perspective. I thought about how strange everything would seem, how we fall into place and follow the usual routine when flying somewhere and just how much we take for granted.

So, I decided to do something different too and instead of my glass of water, I went for some chicha morada – an interesting alternative to some of the other sweet juices on offer.

An hour later, we were landing at Lima, having enjoyed our snack and a drink.  I’d got to an unputdownable bit in The Goldfinch so the flight had passed very quickly indeed.

As we stood by the baggage claim, a sack of corn cobs went by amongst the rucksacks and the other suitcases. 

Maybe a tale of the Town Guinea Pig and the Country Guinea Pig?

Friday afternoon

You knew I couldn’t resist waiting outside, didn’t you?

I suggested the men went inside whilst I sat on the steps with all the Mamitai, I promised not to speak to strange men and not to get caught up in any hooliganism.  My hero would learn all there is to know about the Cuzco school of painting and then, this afternoon, we’d return and he could share all his new found knowledge.  Agreed.

So, I found myself a seat on the steps alongside a few youngsters who were buying tubs of what looked like jelly and custard from the young woman with the tray (and a small child on her back)

No sooner had I sat down than they began to arrive – oh what a commotion!  A heated argument was going on in front of me between a woman who’d sat down on the bottom step and an elderly gentleman who seemed to think she shouldn’t sit there.

I looked across the road and thought of my promise!

I’m sure my cousins will be glad to know there was a Hull City supporter in the parade!

The atmosphere was really quite jolly, but I was aware that all of these people were gathering on the steps too and I feared being overwhelmed by them all.  Perhaps I’d better move to somewhere else.

I went and stood over in the line of policemen which actually gave me a better view of the goings on.  All the time, I was anxiously working out how I could spot the men as they left the cathedral, though.

Because, actually, the square was getting fuller and fuller.

Processions were coming from all directions now and I thought that I needed to move again, before I got trapped in the middle of the square.

I looked around for somewhere to stand and spotted a large stone step on the other side of the road.

So, taking one last photo of these colourful chaps, I made my way over there and stood on top of it.

It was quite a good vantage point!

A bit of “Where’s Wally” too, when they tried to find me.  But I’d spotted them immediately and having failed to catch their attention by jumping up and down on my stone perch, waving and shouting, I ran over and all fears of missing one another were gone!

 

We said goodbye to Francis, who was off to collect his two boys from their grandmothers in Urubamba, and sent our love to Adriana before walking back up the hill to our little haven of peace for a while.  Whilst it’s not as high as Chinchero the other day, Cusco is nevertheless a good deal higher than we’ve been these last few days and we were feeling the difference.

So, we left the refreshment sellers (and their assistants) and enjoyed a short siesta!

This afternoon, we’ve been out again, retracing some steps – yes, we went in the cathedral and I learned all about the Cuzco school of painting – guinea pigs at the Last Supper and all of that.

I watched to see how the women here tie their small children on their back – with the help of Mamitai, it seems!

And we watched as the groups from this morning posed for photographs before going home.

Oh, girls….you’re never all going to get in that car are you?

(they did)

Others stood on street corners, their elaborate costumes bundled into the pack, hoping for a lift back home.

The girls with the lamb made their way wearily up the street just in front of us and the city closed the doors and windows as the rain started.

We have loved being here, have really enjoyed exploring Cuzco and can’t think of a better way to spend the last day of our trip.  We are tired, but happy, and have booked a table in the restaurant of our super-duper, luxury hotel this evening to round things off in style.

It’s going to be a very long day tomorrow.

Distractions

What had I seen?  (or rather, heard?)

A procession!!  Woo hooo!  Today it seemed as though every country community had sent a few of its people to jump, dance and sing in a similar way to the event we saw in Lima last Saturday.

(ooer, was it really only last Saturday?)

OK, said Francis, take lots of photos, get in there with them (!) and we’ll stay here a while and watch.

So I did.  Actually he had been talking earlier about racial characteristics and the inca faces which are still seen on the streets here,  This was a fine opportunity to point out one or two of the things he’d mentioned.

These are shepherds, with their lambskins around their waists.  Look at the wealth of colour and texture though – the braids and the pompoms.   Many had small amulets around their necks, sometimes a simple little bottle with a few seeds inside, other times something more elaborate.

Young and old were in there, dancing along with huge enthusiasm.

Wait for me!

There were large banners, richly embroidered in silver and gold, ususally to be seen hanging in the local church, but for now, carried proudly by someone strong!

Every time I thought that we should move on, there was another lovely face, another colourful costume.  Oh dear.  The men were champing at the bit now.

So we walked alongside for a while.

I couldn’t resist taking more photographs of the braids, the scarves, the fabrics!

Even though, really, hadn’t we seen enough?

Well, yes, really.  Time for me to be sensible!

O-oh!  Just one more…look at these!!

Well, actually, the procession came to a standstill because it ran headlong into another protest for womens rights!  So, we left them there in the street, sitting down for a rest or nipping to a stand to buy a tamale or something, and we went on into the main square, the Plaza des Armas to go and see the cathedral.

Mind you, it was a bit of a squash to work our way though!

The square was bustling too, but fairly peaceful and with enough space (and few enough distractions) for us to learn a little bit about the architecture – those lovely balconies, for example; a colonial introduction which proved popular even though they are never used.  They’re simply a means of getting more air into the rooms inside.

People were gathering on the steps of the cathedral ready to welcome the procession and looking at them whilst doing a bit of weighing up in my mind, I juggled the options.  Should i join the crowd and wait for the procession, or should I go into the cathedral and see the Cusco School paintings and the magnificent chapels we’d read about?

You’ll find out what I opted to do in the next post!