Last time, after that embarrassing encounter in Cusco—where I mistook a baby alpaca for a sheep and got royally overcharged [crying emoji]—I thought I’d learned my lesson. But then came the train ride from Ollantaytambo to Aguas Calientes, when things took a turn for the worse. Severe vomiting and diarrhea hit me hard mid-journey, leaving me utterly drained by the time we arrived.
The next morning, despite feeling far from 100%, I still had to muster the energy for Machu Picchu. Rising early wasn’t easy; in fact, I even managed to throw up right at the ticket office entrance. Thankfully, the guide was nothing short of a saint, helping me track down some much-needed medicine. South American meds sure don’t mess around—they worked like magic! By the following day, I was able to drag myself out of bed at 6 AM.
Machu Picchu? It’s nothing short of breathtaking. Perched majestically on a mountain ridge, surrounded by towering peaks, this ancient wonder stretches out in an awe-inspiring scale that defies imagination. As you wander through its intricate paths, it feels less like a historical site and more like a labyrinth crafted by the gods themselves.
