Monday, September 12, 2016

"And if your friends jumped off a bridge…

would you do it, too?” We’ve probably all heard that - or something very similar - at least once from our mom. No I can finally unequivocally state “Yes, I would! Of course I would…why wouldn’t I? It’s amazing!”
So, last week I’ve been to the Autisha Canyon. It’s around three hours north-east of Lima and a nice opportunity for a hike, rappel, and of course PUENTING! Puenting is, as you may have guessed, something similar to bungee jumping, although not quite (look the rest up yourself). On that trip I lost my group. Twice. Although that is not entirely new to me here. More on that further down in the post. The bus dropped me off with several others on the bridge for the rappel. Only after I put the harness on and spent about half an hour chatting with people and taking pictures of the landscape, was I notified that I’m in the wrong spot and the bus would come pick me up. So I hiked/sprinted along a narrow track with the guide that waited for me to bring me to my group. After the much shorter rappel (55m instead of 120m) I touched ground in a cave enclosed with walls of rock, where an underground waterfall waited for me. Man, the brute force with which the water shot out of the hole in the rocks was breathtaking. Entranced by that scene I lost my group the second time. Just didn’t notice they were gone. But what kinda guide leaves people behind??? Anyway after I found them we went up an old mineshaft. The ladder was the least safe thing I’ve seen in my life. It zig-zagged upwards and to get from the end of one part to the start of another you had to walk over a 4cm pipe for 1,5 meters. No safety net, no nothing. Well, I survived, just to go back to the bridge and jump off it. The one thing that I found scariest of all was the fact that you didn’t really have a lot of wiggle room on swinging left and right, since there were rocks on either side of you. So you better made damn sure you jumped straight.
And so the caracol (snail) made it back to Lima alive.

That nickname was earned the weekend before in the jungle. Not deep jungle, more like the start of it. The whole house and several other people went to walk through rain forest, see waterfalls and the like, and got to visit an indigenous village. In the village of the Asháninka we got served traditional food of the Selva (Jungle) and learned about their history which is, to say the least, heartbreaking and bloody. To this day they are still not allowed representatives in the government of even their region. Then there was a lot of staged shit which culminated in the very cleverly done sales pitch, leading every person individually to a merchandise booth. My little “guide”, who I got to dance with before, looked pretty annoyed by all us strangers being there. When I asked her if it’s not really shitty having to do this every time a tourist bus comes by she said that Yes, she hated it, but it was for the good of the village. Most of the older girls and women were better at hiding their dislike for us (or at least the general situation).
The trip to the waterfalls was fun but you all have seen waterfalls so there is not much to tell. Except that at the second one me and three others went away from the waterfall, upstream, to encounter absolutely raw nature and a couple nice rocks to go cliff diving from. Needless to say, we took way too much time and made everybody else wait (Which they had to do habitually on that weekend, because the 4 caracoles always, always, were the last by a huge margin).
On the hike through the ecological park we had a beautiful scenery around us with lots of strange plants. However, the tons of different animals that live there and we were supposed to see didn’t show up. But what do you expect? Half of them are probably night active anyways and the other half wouldn’t go near a group of twenty-ish people. It also may or may not have been because 4 people started singing full volume near the end of the tour – which 4 people is not really of importance at this point…
Before we went back to Lima we had to try one more thing: So me and Sergi went climbing one of the lower coconut trees in the yard of our neighbors house and stole us a couple coconuts fresh off the palm tree (Good stuff).

This weekend was about as far from the jungle as you can get. I drove up in the Andes to start a hike to a lagoon in the mountains. We started at 6.30am, 3,500m above sea level and about minus 2°C. Smart as I am I didn’t pack any really warm stuff because “Hey, it’s South America… How cold could it get?” Classic I-don’t-need-research moment. So, as you might be able to imagine, a little German Michelin-mascot, made up of all the sweaters and jackets he possesses, started going up the hill. During the day the weather changed drastically, though. So at what felt like 26°C in the sun, I also changed my appearance from Michelin-man to Hunchback of Notre Dame, with a bulging backpack hanging on me.
Seven kilometers later and 1000m higher up we got to the mountain lake. Easier said than done. Two out of five got sick and vomited and the rest of us was getting out of breath unusually fast. Altitude sickness is no joke, folks. The air is really thin up there. I got nothing but respect for people who go up fucking Mount Everest. The exertion was absolutely worth it though. The sights along the way were amazing as well but the "Laguna Rapagna" stole the show. A giant, blue, shining puddle surrounded by colorful mountains…

A beautiful scene, and a great image to leave you with until the next time someone posts on here.

                       


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