Peru: Altitude Sickness and other questions

Since coming home, the top question I've been asked was how did we fare with altitude sickness, followed by did we try guinea pig?

I'll answer the second question first: no. I would have been willing to try it, but after hearing from Greg (@Go.With.Greg) that his was served with the face prominent, I lost all interest. I was only interested in trying a taste, anyway, but his description kept me from ordering it.

The first question is longer to answer. As soon as we landed in Cusco I had a terrible headache. I get headaches more frequently than Don and can usually identify them. Not enough sleep. Dehydrated. Hungry. Snow or rain storm about to hit. This was none of the above. After confirming symptoms with Google, I took two Tylenols (which I packed), had some bottled water, and slept for 12 hours. I woke up with a headache in the middle of the night. Took more Tylenol. Woke up feeling much better. For me, that was the worst of it. We were sleeping in Urubamba that night, which at 9,700 feet above sea level was about 1,500 feet closer to sea level than the Cusco airport. The next day we were going to Machu Picchu, "only" 8,000 feet. I repeated Tylenol and water over the next couple of days as both seemed to help.

Don was fine in Cusco and at Machu Picchu, but a few hours after arriving in Cusco (11,200 feet) he was feeling gastrointestinally ill. He tried to press on, but the only thing that helped was sleeping in the hotel room. Someone from a group about to leave Cusco gave him the rest of her supply of Soroche pills. Yes, I know, don't take drugs from strangers. Back at Dulles Airport a Peruvian woman swore by Diamox, which you can get from any pharmacy in Lima, and we did not.

Shoulda. Coulda. Woulda.

We drank coca and muna teas every time they were offered. I chewed a coca leaf I found on a counter at the Cusco airport when Greg was changing money. Honestly I don't know if any of that helped.

Don may have consumed something he should not have.

People kept offering suggestions that were working for them (patches, masking tape on pressure points, coca candy, etc.). For me another day to rest would have helped. For Don, returning to sea level was the only cure. 

I was wiped out on our Cusco hikes as we climbed another 600 feet above sea
level not once, not twice, but three times on three different days, because some people just don't learn. Don was even slower than me on our last hike.

We both felt much better as soon as we landed in Lima. My head stopped feeling clogged. I could remember to say buenos dias, buenos tardes, and buenos noches, instead of bonjour, bon apres midi, and bon soir, or even buena sera as the Italians say. I finally hit my traveling groove!