Sunday — April 5That I am writing this post is a good sign, but a good portion of the earlier part of the day is a blur for me. One minute I was listening to Vidal telling us how the church in Pisac had been damaged during the 1950 earthquake, the next I was urgently asking, ¿dónde está el baño?, por favor (where is the bathroom please). Sensing my dire need, Vidal did not stop to ask any questions as he led us to the nearest facilities. What followed would be TMI — too much information — so I’ll cut to the chase.I have little recollection of how I got to the van after my GI episode, but I do know that I managed to do so under my own steam. The next thing I remember distinctly is being prone on the seat, chills racking my body, and Mui handing me a Cipro pill and a bottle of water. As the van headed out of town, I could hear Vidal and Mui speaking — words like saltines and Gatorade peppered their conversation. We must have stopped at a store before leaving Pisac as a bag with these essentials was soon within easy reach. I took a few sips of the Gatorade to start replenishing my electrolytes, told Mui and Vidal not to forget to stop at the overlook for a view of Pisac, and dozed off again to the sound of chuckles from the men in the van.
Mui filming at the overlook above Pisac.
(photo by Vidal)