‘That tea was not tea. Tea relaxes you and is a remedy in any life situation – that was a bitter attack on my taste buds,’ states Zaza, her nose turned up. ‘Worse than green tea. Properly hit the back of my throat and made me want to gag.’

‘Certainly an acquired taste,’ I agree, finding her disgust at most things she’s encountered on this trip so far hilarious. ‘But it’s what the locals believe helps with headaches from the altitude.’

‘You mean the fogginess I’m feeling isn’t just from jetlag?’ Zaza asks. ‘I feel like I’m on a boat. My head is swaying.’ She holds her arms out either side of her, and gives an energetic sway, managing to whack another diner in the arm as they pass. ‘Sorry,’ she calls as they turn and grunt at her.

‘Probably that too,’ I agree, watching the person continue on their way to the loo. ‘The tea is made from coca leaves – the raw ingredient used for cocaine.’

‘Shut up!’ Vicky gasps, as though I’ve just told her she’ll be snorting lines of coke all the way up the mountain. ‘Are you joking?’

‘No! It’s a banned substance in most other places around the world,’ I tell her, unable to stop myself from smiling. ‘You’d literally never make it through customs if you tried to smuggle some home.’

‘It’s illegal?’ she gasps. ‘Oh I don’t think I can have any more of that!’

‘It’s not that bad. It has to go through a whole process before it becomes the white stuff.’

‘Shame!’ says Zaza, her phone pinging again from her bag. This time she ignores it. ‘Fuck, I really need to stop drinking now or I’m going to be no use tomorrow!’

Tomorrow.

I’m aware of excitement fluttering around inside me at the reminder of the adventure we’re on and the things we’re going to see over the next week. Something inside me is reawakening, a comforting feeling to experience after living without it for so long. Like a hibernating bear waking after a dark, bleak winter.