Last night, in a conversation with a Dutch guy, Wissie, from my hostel, I learned about Ayahuasca. It´s a type of tea of tribal origin - something to do with a cactus. It´s used by shamans to cure all kinds of ailments, and to purify the body & mind. It involves a ceremony, led by a shaman, that promises a great deal of violent vomiting and hallucinating that eventually ends with great clarity of mind, a connection with nature, and the possibility to contact the spirit world. So, right up my strasse. Wissie tells me that no food or alcohol is permitted for twenty-four hours before the ceremony. After a heavy eight o'clock dinner, the hunger strike began.
Today, by early afternoon, starvation is beginning to test me. I find Wissie, and we decide we ought to find a shaman now, otherwise, this is all a waste of time. We´re prowling around the hippie side of town, San Blas, and Wissie is asking random stereotypically dressed hippies where we can find a shaman. Eventually we do, but the elaborately described ceremony is priced at a hundred-and-forty bucks. Neither of us are that keen to achieve spiritual enlightenment.
We estimate that we´ll have have cheaper luck in the town of Pisaq, outside of Cusco, in the Sacred Valley. Our pilgrimage begins by bus, then continues in the same manner as our search of Cusco.
After thirty minutes of asking around, we´re finding that there seem to be only one shaman in town, and he does two weekly ceremonies - neither tonight nor tomorrow. In desperation, we track the shaman to his house deep in the unlit village. The shaman only confirms the schedule that we already knew. Game over.
Back in Cusco, it´s 2130h and Wissie and I are each ploughing into Israeli take-out like it´s going out of fashion.
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