Intro
The decision to stay another night in Cajabamba didn’t come from a place of laziness, but a cold calculation of lung capacity. With a 1,000-meter climb sitting right outside the city limits, the partly cloudy sky didn’t look like an invitation so much as a warning that I wasn’t ready for the thin air yet. The paved roads south will still be there tomorrow, but today was about recovery and carbohydrates.
The Six-Bread Breakfast
- At 8:15 am, I officially called it. My breathing still felt shallow, and the thought of grinding up a mountain pass with a chest full of congestion was enough to keep me in bed for another hour watching history videos. By 10:00 am, I finally pulled myself together for a mission to the local market. The goal was simple: fuel. I ended up on a carbohydrate tour of the stalls, successfully identifying and bagging six distinct varieties of local rolls. I walked back with a heavy bag containing Pan de agua, Pan de mollete, Pan integral, Pan cena, Pan torta, and the curved Pan cachito.
- Back in the room, I sat down for a ninety-minute catch-up call with a friend in Germany. This became my ‘second breakfast,’ a messy, glorious spread. I started with the Pan de agua, and the crackle of the thin, brittle crust breaking under my thumbs was the most satisfying sound I’ve heard all week. I layered it with a sticky smear of mantequoso cheese and slices of the three small avocados I’d picked up. The cheese had that specific, tacky texture that clings to the roof of your mouth, cutting through the dryness of the bread. By the time the call ended, I was stuffed enough to skip lunch entirely, my body finally absorbing something other than road dust and fruits.
Taxes in the Highlands
- The middle of the day took a sharp turn into the mundane and the frustrating. Instead of navigating hairpin turns, I was navigating German tax law. I’m missing a bank statement, so I spent over two hours doing manual math, trying to reverse-calculate values from my transaction history so I could finally submit my report. There is something deeply surreal about sitting in a Peruvian hotel room, surrounded by bike bags and spare tubes, while stressing over a missing Steuerbescheinigung. It’s a different kind of endurance test, one that involves spreadsheets instead of gear ratios.
- By 3:30 pm, the room cleaning staff knocked, which was the perfect excuse to abandon the math. I let them in and headed to a local cafeteria. I ordered a fruit salad topped with a single scoop of chocolate chip ice cream. The cold sweetness was exactly what my throat needed. The weather stayed consistent—partly cloudy and mild—letting the town breathe without the oppressive heat of the lower valleys. I spent the rest of the afternoon just sitting, letting the mechanical rhythm of the town replace the rhythm of my pedals.
The Final Preparation
- As the light started to fade, I went out for one last supply run. I found a jar of sugar-free peanut butter and some dried fruits to restock my panniers for the journey south. For dinner, I returned to the Tupperware I’d filled at the market earlier—a dense mix of cooked lentils, beets, carrots, chickpeas, and beans. I added my own lemon, salt, and plenty of oil, eating it while watching German satire shows on my laptop. It was a strange bridge between my current reality and home, laughing at ‘Die Anstalt’ while the sounds of Cajabamba drifted through the window.
- I ended the night at a small bar-café for a final banana batido. The hum of the heavy-duty blender dominated the small space, a vibrating mechanical drone that signaled the end of my rest. As I sipped the drink, I did a quick inventory of my vitals. The nose has stopped dripping. The throat feels almost entirely healed. Most importantly, my lungs feel clear enough to handle the 1,000 meters of vertical gain waiting for me tomorrow morning. I’m heading to bed at 11:00 pm, finally feeling like a cyclist again rather than a patient.
Overnight
I stayed a third night at the hotel in Cajabamba. Having the room refreshed mid-day made it feel less like a sick ward and more like a base camp, which was essential for the mental shift back to riding mode.
Reflection
Calculate your taxes and bank statements before leaving the country, or expect to spend a perfectly good rest day in the Andes doing long division.