I’ve never been so apprehensive about getting off a plane. After spending most of the flight from Lima to Cusco reading about all the possible symptoms of altitude sickness, I’m convinced I’m going to faint theatrically the second they open the door.
I don’t. I venture nervously out onto the stairs and take my first breath of oxygen-starved Cusco air. And then a second. And then a third. The relief is palpable. I’m going to survive.
Read the rest of this story here.