My tent is covered with a thin layer of ice. Again and again I startle from the bone-chilling cold. I need several layers of clothing to keep me reasonably warm. I wear two pairs of pants, a T-shirt, a down jacket, a rain jacket, and a pair of thick wool socks, with a sleeping bag liner over them. Nevertheless, I am far from the coziness that my sleeping bag promises me at 10 degrees.
At the top, I was welcomed by a farmer and his father, who at my request allowed me to camp on their small piece of land. For the first time in my life at over 3000 m altitude. After I set up the tent, with little nephew Juti watching me the whole time, together we helped his uncle Segundo weed alfalfa for his guinea pigs. Using a knife that looks like a sickle, we cut the whole plant off at the root. He tells me that his family only speaks Quechua, the language of the indigenous people. For me, this is completely incomprehensible.
In the past, the people in the desert could survive well without outside help. But at some point came tourism, from which they live in part. They make a little turnover with the tourists, sell cold drinks and homemade bags. The bags are nice, but I have no use for them. Coal has also been found on their land, which they are hardly compensated for mining. But with the roads, the dirt and the rails they don’t need, they have to live now.
I would certainly not have starved, but for more than a few noodles with tomato sauce and the hammock for the night it was not enough. Fortunately, the experienced hiker found mangoes and avocados in the jungle, without which he would have had to starve for breakfast and lunch. I sat like a monkey under the trees in the riverbed and enjoyed the fruits. Somehow it is a great experience not to be able to slay all problems with money. It is new for me not to have money. Often enough you find a solution for which you don’t need money.
Yes, I am a very social person. I love being with other people and getting to know new people and their experiences. Yet, I also have an “anti-social” side where any interaction with people takes energy. Extroverts who charge in social settings like someone struck by lightning often can’t put themselves in our introverted shoes. In the past, I have sometimes been mocked for this, that I was tired again. Yet I was doing my best. Alcohol often helped me temporarily calm the introverted part of me – at least for the evening. I paid the cost later with even more tiredness.
