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Jun. 21st, 2005 03:56 amThis is what I have to say about high-altitude treks: the next time I go on one, I am taking you with me, and thus will save myself the bother of trying to tell you about it. It's fascinating, just on the physical level. (Your eyesight becomes useless, but your hearing magnifies times a billion.) And then the vistas! I hope some of these photos come out.
But instead of that, I will talk about coca.
Growing up in Latin America, coca has this incredibible mystique. It's a miracal drug, good for everything, from headaches to blisters to depression. It's not given to children, except in the mate de coca form, which is to the real thing, like gasoline fumes are to skydiving.
Until yesterday, I'd never actually had it.
So: Intellectually, I know coca is only .0001 percent cocaine, and it's got something ridiculous like forty vitamins in it. I know it's not clinically addictive.
Emotionally, I feel that nothing that makes your cheeks numb can be good for you. It's a very head-with-wings-y experience. You can hear yourself huffing and puffing, but the only muscle you're conscious of working is your tongue.
But instead of that, I will talk about coca.
Growing up in Latin America, coca has this incredibible mystique. It's a miracal drug, good for everything, from headaches to blisters to depression. It's not given to children, except in the mate de coca form, which is to the real thing, like gasoline fumes are to skydiving.
Until yesterday, I'd never actually had it.
So: Intellectually, I know coca is only .0001 percent cocaine, and it's got something ridiculous like forty vitamins in it. I know it's not clinically addictive.
Emotionally, I feel that nothing that makes your cheeks numb can be good for you. It's a very head-with-wings-y experience. You can hear yourself huffing and puffing, but the only muscle you're conscious of working is your tongue.
