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| Aguas Calientes |
The town of Aguas Calientes boasts a permanent population of about 400, 300 of that number being extraordinarily mangy-looking stray dogs. It contains 80 restaurants, all serving pizza and the same basic meat dishes, two roads, and no cars of any kind. We trucked up to our hostel, and began to only now discover that it was aaaaaaall the way up the "main drag", which was more in need of its own switchbacks than any other road we'd been on to date.
After settling in, we relaxed a bit, and I came up with a new theory regarding the circulation problems. I now believe it's a reaction to the Diamox medication I took the night before, for the headache I attributed to high altitude. I vaguely recall hearing that numbness was a possible side effect, and given what it does to one's metabolism to help with the altitude, it sort of makes sense.
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| Carrot Art |
Trying to forget about that, we walked back down the monster hill as little as necessary to get dinner (which would have only been one-fourth the distance, except that most places only had fixed menus with meat), and wound up at a pizza place named Inka Wasi, which coincidentally had the same name as our travel agents, but was of no relation. (We've been seeing the word "Wasi" all over, but don't know what it means. We think it's Quechua for "Dudes".) In yet another small-world encounter, we were met by the street greeter, who, though Peruvian, was actually raised in New Jersey, not far from where my parents live today. He spends three months of the year with his family here in Aguas Calientes, and they love it. This seemed hard to believe, given the incredible lack of excitement around here: about the most fun we've seen is the "carrot art" duck adorning our pizza. But I suppose even the sleepiest of mountain towns have their charm to those who know where to find it.
-- Keith
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