Halfway Home
I passed the halfway point of my trip pretty much the day I got my backpack stolen. Is it really possible that eight weeks have passed already? They have gone by so quickly in some ways and so slowly in others. Interestingly enough, this is what all the other long-term travellers say. And I can´t really explain what I mean, other than on some micro level, time crawls, but on a macro level, when you spend three days here and three days there, the next thing you know, weeks have flown by. There are some days that I feel so alone and lonely, and then there are days where I am 100% sure that there is no better way to travel than alone.
Since my backpack was stolen, I´ve been craving company. The past few days, I´ve been hanging out with six twenty-two year old Kiwi guys, a German girl, and an Israeli girl. If that´s not an intimidating bunch then I don´t know who would be! My experience has been very "city" since I arrived in Potosi and Sucre. In Sucre, I´ve been going to churches and museums and urban hikes to lookout points.
I miss the desert. I miss the stars.
Leaving the desert behind me reminds me of one of my favorite quotes. I read it at a dear friend´s wedding, I´ve taped it next to my bed at home, and I once gave it to a boy I loved. To me, it´s about looking forward to a future that is unknown but surely beautiful.
"Benedicto: May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets' towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottos of endless stone, and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs, where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you -- beyond that next turning of the canyon walls."
Edward Abbey
Since my backpack was stolen, I´ve been craving company. The past few days, I´ve been hanging out with six twenty-two year old Kiwi guys, a German girl, and an Israeli girl. If that´s not an intimidating bunch then I don´t know who would be! My experience has been very "city" since I arrived in Potosi and Sucre. In Sucre, I´ve been going to churches and museums and urban hikes to lookout points.
I miss the desert. I miss the stars.
Leaving the desert behind me reminds me of one of my favorite quotes. I read it at a dear friend´s wedding, I´ve taped it next to my bed at home, and I once gave it to a boy I loved. To me, it´s about looking forward to a future that is unknown but surely beautiful.
"Benedicto: May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds. May your rivers flow without end, meandering through pastoral valleys tinkling with bells, past temples and castles and poets' towers into a dark primeval forest where tigers belch and monkeys howl, through miasmal and mysterious swamps and down into a desert of red rock, blue mesas, domes and pinnacles and grottos of endless stone, and down again into a deep vast ancient unknown chasm where bars of sunlight blaze on profiled cliffs, where deer walk across the white sand beaches, where storms come and go as lightning clangs upon the high crags, where something strange and more beautiful and more full of wonder than your deepest dreams waits for you -- beyond that next turning of the canyon walls."
Edward Abbey
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