My travel day yesterday was only a smidgen less than excruciating. However, sitting in my hotel room right now, it is abundantly clear that it was entirely worth it.

   I figure from bed to bed-that is, from the time I woke up in San Diego on the morning of Feb 18 until the time I went to sleep in Cuzco, Peru, the following day, was about 26 hours. That flight went as such . . . San Diego to LAX to Miami to Lima to Cuzco.

   Cuzco sits in the Peruvian Andes at about 12,000 feet above sea level. I had heard many warnings about altitude sickness. My travel companion, Andrew Altschul, reflected on his last visit to Cuzco, which had him ill and in bed for nearly two days from the dreaded altitude sickness. So I got a prescription for Diamox, an anti-altitude drug which I was to start taking two days before altitude. I did not heed the no alcohol warning and treated myself to a pint of Budweiser and a double Stoli Presbyterian in the Miami airport, and glass of wine on the Miami to Lima leg of the flight.

   Then I slept, that is, until I was awakened by an uneasy feeling in my brain and in my body. First, it was just an unsettling feeling. Then it was a creeping nausea. And finally,it was an all out attack which set my heart pounding, and my lungs had lost their ability to retrieve oxygen. Sweat was pouring down my face, and I was certain I was dying. It seemed as though the attack lasted ten or fifteen minutes but a more realistic guess would be 2 or 3.

  My certainty that I was dying was such that I was about to wake the person next to me and inform him that something was terribly wrong and I needed help. But, as I pursed my lips together for the "H" sound, as in "help", the attack subsided and I was able to retain my equilibrium. I returned to my sleep with relative ease as it was 2am or so, and a good 15 hours of transit was under my belt. I have no way of knowing how long I slept, perhaps somewhere under an hour when I was again awakened by that same sickly attack; equal in its intensity as the first. I believed that the second attack might subside, though I wasn’t sure. I gripped the seat in front of me and rocked it back and forth. I am certain that I woke the older senora that sat there and scared the shit out of her. When I recovered from this attack, I tried to sleep yet again. Just when my eyes began to sag, the third and final attack slammed me.

   After that, it was headaches and body aches and fears that I had done irreparable damage to my health, the extent of which I will never know.

  It was black when we flew into Lima at 520am. But I was thankful to be here. Now, it was a simple matter of waiting for Andrew’s flight and getting our shuttle into Cuzco. Lima was sweltering in humidity. Carrying my luggage through the aeropuerto was as much a work out as a full day in the gym, and the sweat pouring from my scalp and face and arms caused airport security and cops to look at me through careful squints. We booked our shuttle flight, waited a few horas and took Aero Continental into the snow capped Andes.

   The altitude effect, when we exited the plane, was eerie. Apparently, your brain swells at these heights and your body doesn’t get enough oxygen. At least, not until it compensates by manufacturing more red blood cells. The worst part was dragging my luggage, which would cause fit people in normal altitudes to gasp for air, but caused me pains in my chest and head and a constant need to stop and rest.

   Does this sound like complaining? It is not. What I’m trying to convey is, yes, it is the devil’s trail getting to this strange and magical place, but I am here now, in my hotel room, having walked around only a bit, and eaten at two joints; and I am already in love with Cusco.

  We found a premium dollar hotel in La Plaza for 15 bucks a night. La Plaza is the center of Cuzco which is a square park with a beautiful Spanish fountain in the center, grass and flowers and park benches and a lot of turisticas and locals. The square is surrounded by restaurants and shops and two Spanish Cathedrals that were built right on top of the Incan stonework. This because the Spaniards destroyed the Incans some 500 years ago (the timeline is sketchy)

  This place is fantastic. Much more to come.