The last week has had the most ups and downs of any week I’ve had since traveling, and I don’t even know what I want to say about it yet.
In Otavalo, I had my phone stolen, contracted food poisoning, and got ripped off on my bus ticket. However, I also had my first long conversations in Spanish, saw the peculiar Andean condors for the first time, and learned I’m capable of doing this traveling thing on my own.
A few days later on the Quilotoa Loop, I made an amazing friend and found out my body and mind are stronger than I ever thought they were. However, I realized this by spraining my ankle on a trail in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere and having to climb uphill at 9000 foot altitude through mud and jagged rocks for three hours to the last village. But my Norwegian friend, Anette, wrapped my ankle and carried my bag through all of this for me. I appreciate her more than I can possibly describe to you.
This week, I’ve learned a lot, and I don’t even know how to come to any conclusion on it all yet. So, I’m going to the beach. A cocktail in my hand and my toes in some white, warm sand is all I can think about now and what I think will be the perfect way to reflect. After weeks of – “I’m going to Peru. Wait no, I’m going to this music festival in Colombia. But, the Galapagos? Oh to hell with it all, I’m going to a different continent” – I’ve finally decided. Peru it is.
Photo montage time: