Worrying My Way to Peru

After months of worrying about this trip, it finally arrived — I’m in Peru.

I’m here for two weeks. The first week is a yoga retreat, and the second week will be hiking. It sounds very adventurous and spiritually balanced when you say it like that. But before any of that could happen, there was the worrying.

I don’t normally travel on my own without Chad, so preparing for this trip sent me into a full logistical tailspin. Did I pack the right things? Did I forget something important? Would I feel okay traveling alone?

Of course, the reality is that I’m not actually traveling alone. When I arrived in Peru I met up with the group doing the yoga retreat, and later I’ll meet the group for the hiking portion. But give me something hypothetical to worry about and I will absolutely commit to it.

Packing for this trip was also a little different than usual. Normally I use a highly sophisticated system where I create a grid and write down exactly what outfit I’m wearing each day. It’s a beautiful thing. Every shirt has a purpose. Every pair of pants knows its destiny. But this trip broke my system.

Two weeks. Two different types of travel. Yoga one week. Hiking the next. And I was told there would be laundry available at the retreat. Suddenly my outfit grid strategy wasn’t working nearly as well.

So I turned to Rick Steves for guidance. His philosophy is simple: bring three long-sleeve shirts, three short-sleeve shirts, and three pairs of pants and just mix and match. We’re going to see how that works. Although, in fairness, I did bring four of everything.

The travel day started with a 6:00 p.m. flight from Charlotte to Miami, then Miami to Lima, and finally Lima to Cusco — which I have decided to pronounce “couscous.”

It was an overnight flight, which means by the time you arrive you no longer feel like a functioning human being. And then you land in Cusco, which sits at about 12,000 feet of elevation. So on top of sleep deprivation, you are also immediately confronted with the possibility that the air itself might defeat you.

Altitude sickness was a real concern, so I started the medication Friday morning before I left. My friend Barb was on the same flight to Cusco, which helped reassure me that I wasn’t entirely alone — just missing my usual travel comfort blanket, Chad. (I’m sure he’s thrilled to be described that way.)

I was a little nervous about the altitude medication because I had no real idea what it was doing to my body, but honestly I don’t feel any different. As I write this I’ve taken it five times — one dose every twelve hours — and so far so good.

When we arrived in Cusco, a driver picked us up at the airport. The airport itself looked a little older, but I noticed something immediately — it was incredibly clean. I didn’t see trash anywhere. 

Our driver helped us with our bags and loaded them into a tiny little car, also very clean, and we started driving into the city. Driving in Cusco appears to operate on a fascinating concept I would call “suggested lanes.” There are lines painted on the road, but they seem to function more like gentle recommendations than actual rules. Two lanes become three lanes, which sometimes become four lanes, depending on the size of the cars and the confidence of the drivers.

Another thing I noticed: a surprising number of side mirrors appeared to be duct taped onto the cars. Which, honestly, felt like an efficient solution.

We are staying at Monasterio San Pedro, which, as the name suggests, used to be an actual monastery and is attached to a church. So if you’re looking for peaceful vibes and possibly a little divine oversight while adjusting to 12,000 feet of altitude, this seems like a solid choice. It also sits directly across the street from the main market, which means you step outside and immediately enter a full sensory experience of Cusco. One important travel tip I learned: there are two hotels in Cusco with “Monasterio” in the name. Make sure your driver knows which one you mean. Otherwise, congratulations — you’ve just signed up for an unexpected scenic tour of Cusco before you even check in.

Now I have no idea if the market is always as busy as it was on the Saturday we arrived, but it was amazing. Inside were stalls overflowing with food and goods — chickens, meats, vegetables, spices, and yes, guinea pigs, all ready to be taken home and cooked. And toilet paper for after you eat the guinea pigs. In fact we saw one woman selling squares of toilet paper to passing cars. 

Just a little side note about guinea pigs. In Peru they’re called cuy (and the plural is cuyes). Unlike in the U.S., where they are firmly in the “small fluffy pet” category, here they are traditionally a food animal and a very normal part of local cuisine. I have not eaten one yet. I’m not saying I absolutely wouldn’t try it… but I’m also hoping not to run into the moment where I see them skinned in the market first. I feel like that might ruin the experience.

Outside along the sidewalk were women sitting beside their goods wearing traditional dress — layered skirts, sweaters, and hats perched high on their heads like little stovetops. They sat beside bags of vegetables, meat, scarves, hats, flowers, and anything else they had for sale.

Barb and I walked around for a bit and eventually grabbed a ham and cheese sandwich as a snack. I also ordered coca tea, which I had heard was good for altitude sickness. After that we headed back to the hotel and had an incredible massage in the spa. Ninety minutes for two people was about $115 total, which immediately made me wonder if we should book another one – 180 minutes! It felt like the perfect way to ease into the altitude without overdoing it.

After cleaning up we walked down the hill into the square for dinner at a restaurant called Morena. If you ever find yourself in Cusco, you should absolutely go there. We shared several dishes and, yes, we ordered alpaca.

I feel it’s important to report that alpaca was my least favorite dish of the night. So I have now established a personal rule: alpacas are for wool and for being adorable. They are not for eating.

Walking back to the hotel we stopped in a few shops, and if you ever want an alpaca sweater, hat, jacket, or socks, Peru is the place to be. There is so much to choose from and everything is surprisingly inexpensive.

And yes, Chad… I now have a new jacket.

As we started back up the slight hill toward the hotel, Barb and I stopped and bought two large bottles of water. So now I’m carrying a new alpaca jacket and two big bottles of water when suddenly it hits me.

Shortness of breath. A little headache. Ah yes — the altitude has arrived. Fortunately I have drugs for that. I took another dose and decided that was a good signal to call it a night.

And now as I sit here writing this, I realize something. I may have spent months worrying about traveling alone…

…but I made it to Peru. And it turns out I’m doing just fine. (And really not alone)