4 days walking in Cordillera de los frailes, around sucre

I am in Peru by now... I have lost my senses for a while and wasnot feeling like writing. Too many things started to happen inside and around me. I am leaving pieces of myself in some corners, along the roads, in the heart of other peopel. I forgot Europe, my things a little. The only reality is that of the travel. Again i am nostalgic about new people i met in la paz and copacabana but i am already getting to know new ones here in Arequipa, and i am going to be nostalgic about them in a few days. And this goes on and on like this till the end it seems. I think my nostalgy cannot be cured, i am fanatic about it. I have just watched the photoes of last week, and it seems still inside me and yet so far. And the places seem more and more beautifil like this froma far, when i am there they become the reality and do not have this speacial breathtaking effect of a postcard.

I am not reading the guide anymore, only when it is necessary, i do not go to too many museums, i do not care where and where.

I am missing Bolivia, a lot. It is another world inside these rich countries of Chile Argentina and Brasil. What is it doing there? What was here before Evo Morales? What will be here in 20 years? I cannot imagine any of the answers...

My flight will be from Brasil probably...So i will have to cross the jungle, and i will learn some portuguese, i will watch the fake tits of the perfect bodied brasilian girls and the almoand shaped eyes of the guys. I have a necklace from a friend, it was bought in Brasil, it should bring me luck.

So many things to tell but now i want to tell you about my 4 day trip around Sucre. We went with Alvaro, with a tent for 1 person where we pressed ourselves together to have place, with 5 kilos of mango and tomatoes and chocolate and with a little piece of map of lonely planet. I left my compass at home :) In the end of the trip we became experts to orientate us according to the mountains and rivers, the only points of reference.

We hitchhiked,

travelled on camions (many times there are camions instead of buses in farfetched places, very cheap and incredible atmosphere)

and walked a looooooooooot. I did not know that i was capable of walking so much!

We had to ask for the way from the locals (who speak way much better quechua or aymara than spanish) because the indications were never clear. One hour walking for them was 3 hours for us. Rumours of a bridge here and there, rumours of the level of danger of the river.

We slept the first night in a little church.

Our neighbours were maria and some little rats which ate just a little piece of all our chocolates. In the night we watched the lightnings in the distance.

In the morning, as it was Sunday a religious gathering arrived with alot of food, drink and good mood. They make apicninc every month here. The children can drink from the age of 15. they invited us to eat picana, a traditional bolivian christmas food. made with two kinds of meat, chicken and cow. they told me i could try that alcohol, i am only going to see some stars :)

We found that misterious bridge, or pasaje, it doesnot even deserve the name of a bridge.

The second night caught us with rain, so we had to find something fast. We asked a roof from the locals. Strange people, the fatther, totally drunk, was talking to us in quechua, and the son lazily translated his questions but our answers in Spanish probably did not get to the mind of the old guy. Anyway, after bargaining the price it was calmer and they made us tea and some popcorn kind of stuff. Instead of rats we had a grillo.

After the bridge, to get to Maragua, we had to climb so hight that i was thinking my lungs are going to jump out of their place and run back to sucre where i was only distrubing them with smoking some cigarettes sometimes.

Maragua lies in a crater, with purple and green surrealistic colours.

 The villagers do tourism, in a strange way. We were supposed to pay for everything, even they were laughing about the irreality of the camping price they wanted to give us. Finally they let us keep just there, under a little roof. They had some misterious reunion in the evening and in the morning a guy arrived witha fromal paper signed by the boss of the village that we have to pay. We got so angry!! Obviously we did not pay (they were prepared for this coz we had to sign that we read the letter) and i furiously wrote a little letter explaining our anger. On the village side, the boss stoppe dus in agood mood and wanted to make us pay for leaving the village. He was laughing. The sad or funny part is that they do not do it with a bad thought, just nobody explained them waht tourism really was. They asked us form which agency we had come... what??? we were with a broken tent and totally hippy style :)

We had to get up really early to catch the only camion to sucre. The city was strange after so many days in the nature... And i looked with different eyes at the women selling all their vegetables around, all were on those camions from those little villages...