Bicycle

A Quarter Of A Hundred

It has been more than two years since I have set off from Halifax. Due south! The route has never been something fixed, more a vague idea. Across the USA, Mexico, Central America and more or less on the west side of South America to Tierra del Fuego and Ushuaia, the southernmost city in the World. There the road ends. I was calculating on doing 25.000km, a bit more, a bit less.

About 10 days ago my speedometer showed 25.000km. I was in Argentina which was consistent with my original plan from back home. What was different from that plan was the fact that I was almost at the opposite side of Argentina, about 700km from the border with Brazil and Paraguay. And not only that I was roughly 2.500km as the crow flies away from Ushuaia, I was even moving in the opposite direction. As it often happens in Life that the plans normally have very little to do with the reality.

I’m still moving away from Ushuaia and will continue to do so for a while. Since I have turned towards the coast in central Peru, I’m still missing a visit to Machu Picchu. So I’m going there now with a small detour via the Iguazu waterfalls as I’m in the neighbourhood (well in the same country). And then there is Paraguay which I want to visit. Also Bolivia is missing from my list so it seems I still have some “work” to do up north. And then there is all of south Argentina with Patagonia and Chile with its Carretera Austral. Still a lot to do!

Then at the same time there is also so much already behind me. Deserts and coasts, mountains and plains, jungle and empty steppes,… Not only that there is already 25.000km behind, there is also more than 420 different locations where I have slept. Sometimes with a roof over my head and a nice, comfortable bed, another times I was in a tent under a clear sky. I was hosted by firefighters, police, Red Cross, churches even schools and a WC have all been a place to spend the night. And I cannot even mention how many times my paths have been crossed by good, friendly people that have almost always somehow intuitively knew what I really need in a given moment. Sometimes they knew it even better than me, whether it was a bed, a hot shower, a safe place to pitch a tent, great food, directions for further on, a conversation or just a simple Smile.
So much of it that I really cannot describe it all. That is why to all of You, that have carried me all this distance, a profound – Thank you!

Simon

How The Argentinians Can Make It Hard On You To Push On

The title does seem to be somewhat negative, but the reality is quite the opposite. However you will have to be patient with me and read on for it to make a proper sense.

From Santa Rosa, la Pampa I have headed northeast in search of some sun and more pleasant temperatures. Winter on a bicycle is just not my natural environment. Low clouds, rain, cold, I don’t know, something in this combination makes it quite unattractive to me. Obviously the weather was not always like that. No, sometimes I had sun, but it normally came with quite a solid headwind. Just so I wouldn’t get too spoiled on the lowlands between La Pampa and the river Parana.

But these vast plains hide something else besides the endless roads, fields, solitary trees and cows. The hide something that normally eludes the few travellers that sleep through these vastness on an overnight bus ride. These are the small towns you come across every 30-40km. The towns themselves are nothing special, they are all more or less the same. One-storey houses, streets organized in a square grid, central square/park, next to it a town hall, opposite to a church, with a police station and a health centre is supposedly a typical layout of the centre. But what makes each town a unique experience are the people you meet there. And people I have met quite a few. Those are Alejandro, Virginia, Miguel, Rosana, Dante, Sergio, Santiago, Walter, Nasiri, Carlos,…

I have stopped in practically every town I came across. Sometimes to hide from the rain, other times to seek shelter from the wind, yet another time a broke spoke on my bike. And every time I have stopped it was a new, pleasant experience, a new encounter, a new opportunity to taste the local hospitality at its finest.
My stays with WarmShowers hosts were always extended by at least a day. Sometimes there was an excuse at hands like bad weather, but the true reason was always good company and amazing hospitality.
Stops at WarmShowers hosts were all planned in advance so I knew in advance that at the end of the day there will be a warm reception, hot shower, sleeping under a fix roof and an interesting conversation with a host to be had. However it did happen to me on more than just few occasions that I have received all this totally unexpected. And this has come to pleasantly surprise and excite me over and over again in the past month.

After a few days of pedalling into the wind that day a tail wind caught me off guard. How easy it was to make more than 50km before lunchtime. I have stopped in a small park in the first town I came across. Some shelter from the wind, to eat some biscuits in peace and then move on. But there was a man from a nearby house that spotted me. He insisted that I come to his house for him to give me lunch. Finally I have accepted the offer and the lunch turned into an afternoon maté with his wife (he had to go to work) and an evening with the whole family (plus sleeping in a bed and a hot shower).
The day after I have pedalled the whole day. The weather was typical for this time of the year, fog that turns into low clouds hovering what seems like 50 meters above your head. And it stayed like this all day long. At least it was not raining and the wind was also kind to me, it was a side wind. At the end of the day I turn into Serrano, a small town in the south of Cordoba. While riding towards the centre I hear shouts from a nearby park. A small group of people was setting up start/finish area for a regional bicycle race that was to happen the day after. After the initial hello and info exchange like where are you from, how and why, I’m invited to an evening asado for the organizers. Sleeping and hot shower waits for me at Walters’ house. Great company I had the pleasure to spend the evening with, doesn’t let me leave the next day. Not without having another asado after the race. I had to stay another night.

After a few more days of pedalling and several similar experiences with the locals, I stop for a few days in Villa Maria where Virginia and Santiago are my hosts. I do my laundry, caress Lou, write the previous post but most of all enjoy the tranquillity of their home and the conversations we share. The day of my departure is sunny with a solid headwind. 30km down the road I hear so far unfamiliar metal sound from my rear wheel. There goes a spoke. Since I’m in the middle of nowhere, I do another 10km to the first town where I’m offered the whole luxury of a bed and a hot shower by the local firefighters. The next day they even organize for me a visit to the local bike mechanic that does his magic on Lou.
Already the day after a new group of firefighters take me under their roof. This time Andres, the boss opens the doors of the local fire station in Landeta where I “camp” in the dining room for the next three days. It’s raining outside! But this does not mean I’m alone, not at all. The first evening I treated to a delicious dinner by Carlos, the next evening I’m an honorary member of the guys’ night, another asado, and again Carlos…

There was many more of these evenings with the locals in the past month. I think I was alone only 2 or 3 nights. Every time the road surprised me with new face, new stories and new, sincere gestures of hospitality by the locals. Things that if I have not have experienced, I would find it hard to believe that they happen so often, so spontaneously.

It’s just that I’m not making any long distances. It’s just not possible, the locals won’t “allow” it.
Then again, isn’t this the whole magic of this adventure that we call Life. To go with the flow, to appreciate every moment that you experience and that every evening you find yourself surprised by the bank on which the flow has washed you up.

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

Small Victories

Let’s first address the elephant in the room. It’s been months since my last post. What can I say, I was on holidays. Not only that I did not cycle, obviously I did not write as well.
For start I had almost 3 weeks of pre-holidays stay and pampering thanks to Andres and his mother Marta in Santa Rosa. Then there was a flight back home and pampering back home curtesy of family and firends that have dedicated some moments of their lifes to share it with me.
Two months flew by in a blink of an eye, a new farewell, return to the road into the unknown, towards Dreams. To ease the transition from one world into another, there were again Andres, Marta and the people around them in Santa Rosa. In their hospitality they have achieved that I had no desire to go back to my bicycle. Doing so would mean that I have to leave behind the comfort of a cosy bed, hot shower, fixed roof over my head, electricity and similar luxury. It meant that I have to go outside where the winter is fast approaching.
My assimilation back to Argentina there in Santa Rosa has stretched well over two weeks. Slowly but surely the notion or better said awareness of the fact that if I don’t move I won’t get anywhere was gaining ground. The decision was clear. Back on a bike!

The day has started with a sun that was just calling me to get out. Until the moment I actually got out and noticed the ridiculously obvious lack of heat. Lou was all loaded up, with Andres we had one more maté (like so many others in the days before) and we mounted each his own bicycle. The only difference was that mine was all loaded up, his not. He is only going to acompany me to the outskirts of the city.
First kilometres back with Lou required some getting used to. In the three months without a bicycle I somehow forgot about the clumsiness that is so synonimus with a touring bicycle. But I got over it quickly. It’s like riding a bicycle!
A farewell to a friend on the outskirts of Santa Rosa and I’m left alone. Well, alone with Lou, but alone nonetheless. Again! In front of me lays the unknown, again. And in this late autumn morning a cover of fog envelops it. Nothing that would encourage me to go on, except for this awareness that I have, that if I do not move I will never get to Tierra del Fuego and Ushuaia.
Hesitantly I have mounted Lou and ventured into the fog, dampness and autumn melancholy. Every now and then the fog lifted up a bit, but the low-lying cloud cover managed to prevent the sun from warming up my bones and provoking a smile on my face. However these moments without fog, revealed to me flooded fields all around. The result of the heavy rains the region has seen this autumn.
Naked trees, dried up corn stems, fog, flooded fields and a decent headwind, really nothing that would motivate me to keep on turning the pedals.

I cycled until about 16h, made about 60 km. Enough for the first day.
I have made it to some buildings by the roadside and behind them I organized myself a place for my tent. Slowly back to the old routine, pitching the tent, setting up the stove, making coffee, enjoying a hot cup of coffee, then dinner and preparations towards sleeping. Last look at the skies, Southern Cross can be seen. The fog and clouds are gone.
Twice I had to go out of the tent. First some cat found my trash bag so I had to put it away, then I had to move my box with food. Fog has returned.
Waking up in the middle of the night. The sleeping bag is all damp, all the clothes are damp as well, water drops are lining the roof of the tent. What fun it is to camp in the fog!

In the morning when I look out the tent, there is again this fog and humidity from yesterday. Hooray, let’s get back on a bicycle! And I even get to pack the damp sleeping bag and the tent. Isn’t this just pure joy?!
So I do what needs to be done. At 10h I’m back on the road making my progress through the fog. Towards the first town that is 50km further down the road. In the meantime the hours pass. And together with the passing of the hours the weather changes. About 15km before the town the sun comes out to greet me and just before the town itself, two locals stop me and together we drink maté, this so typical Argentinian tradition of sharing moments. And I’m also invited to asado, Argentinian barbeque.
Life is beautiful!

A bit further down the road, in front of a closed gas station I’m drying my tent, sleeping bag and the rest whilst thinking about the imporatnace of small victories in Life. For achieving bigger goals. If I want to make it to Tierra del Fuego, I have to move even if sometimes I don’t feel like it. That’s how it is! However, I’m permited to celebrate this small victory, that despite facing not the ideal circoumstances, I have done what I needed to do.
And yes, I’m permitted to be joyful about the fact that I wasn’t soaked by rain, that the wind was not too strong, that I have found a suitable place to camp, that I haven’t had any problems with Lou, that…
Every day a number of good, positive things happen to us. It’s just the question of looking at it from the right perspective!

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

Paso Agua Negra

I have stayed one week in La Serena. Desperatly needed rest after kilometres and kilometres of desert. In my mind I was already flirting with vacations at the end of March thou it was not even the end of Januray. But it was not only the two months that were separating me from the vacation, there was another little detail. I was on the wrong side of the Andes. When I will return to these parts of the World, automn will be already saying its’ goodbye. And this means that crossing a 4.000 and more metres high mountain passes will not be sometthing that is recomended on a bicycle without chains for the tires.
So I have headed east from La Serena towards 250 km distant mountain pass of Agua Negra. With its’ 4.780 metres above sea level it is the highest mountain pass between Chile and Argentina, just so that my job would not be too simple. And to make it a bit less easy, 120 kilometres of the road crossing it is gravel.
But the motivation was there as well as the desire to get it over with the task that separates me from my vacations.
Three days of pedalling through a narrower and narrower valley pass the Chilean border post, all the way to the beginning of the gravel. Menacing clouds and a few rain drops force me to seek shelter under the roof of a solitary shelter the original function of which is still unknown to me. My first night on a, one could say, no mans’ land. I’m on Chilean side of the pass, but officially I have left Chile about 20km ago when the border police stamped my passport.
The next day I’m dealing with a loose gravel road, the result of road works being done by the Chileans. The progress is difficult. Lou sinks into the loose gravel on more than one occasion and leaves me no choice but to push it along.
The countryside is stunning. Mountains changing colours, the intense blue of the sky, a tranquil lake, first snow-capped peaks beyond which lies Argentina start to appear.
Around 16h heavy storm clouds start to appear again. Today I’m not as lucky with the shelter, some grains of hail and a bit of rain catch me. However I do get lucky meeting an Argentinian family traveling with a van. They stop by my side and give me water. This way I do not have to fill it up and filter it from the nearby turbid stream.
The third day in the mountains I pedal until just after noon when I come to a point where the road continues in a zig-zag up the slope. This means that some flat areas to pitch my tent are probably non-existent all the way to the summit. And I need more than just half a day to the top. So I decide to stop and pitch my tent for one more night on this side of the pass.
I spent the afternoon in a shade of a rock. Observing the landscape and searching for molecules of oxygen in my inhales. I’m at 4.100 metres. A condor comes to say hello (flies over me at a safe distance).
Waking up into a fresh new morning. The day is going to be long and difficult, that much I can tell. The higher I am, the more times I need to get of Lou and push it. Every a bit more steep inclination stops me. At one point I have to push Lou in a zig-zag as doing it in a straight line is just impossible.
Gravel road, the wind and the altitude take their price. I’m moving at about 3 km/h, little break frequent, summit still far. I catch a glimpse of it turn one corner. Still missing about 7 km. But this is a distance that I can do and I can do it before the afternoon clouds roll in with a good chance of precipitation that follows. Slowly but surely I make my way towards the top. The last 2km I walk, the wind coming across the pass forces me into it. Just one curve and I’ll be at the top. Gathering my strengths I mount on Lou and the last 200 metres I cycle. I pass under a sign “Paso de Agua Negra – Limite Internacional”, I stop and I cry. Joy, relief, end of exertion, a flood of emotions.
After a short break I descend on the other side. The battle with the gravel road and the wind is still not over. After two hours of going downhill I’m rattled to the bone, hands are numb. I make camp among the ruins of an unfinished house. At least I have some shelter from the wind.
The next day another 15 km of gravel road before I hit brand new asphalt. Descend towards the gendarmes and then to the border post. New stamp, I’m officially in Argentina.
2km down the road is a small town, Las Flores. In the park in front of a gas station a young family on their way back from vacations in Chile is waiting for me. A while ago they passed me by and invited me to join them in Las Flores. Cold water and a meat sandwich (well lots of meat covered by a bit of bread) – Welcome to Argentina!
After about an hour we say goodbye to each other. They go on on their way home, me … Actually I don’t know, I feel lost, without a goal. The task that I had to do before my vacation, that is to cross the Andes, is done. It was tough, probably the toughest mountain pass that I have ever cycled, but now that is all behind me. So what do I do now?
I wander for a while through the small town. Just enough that the feeling of being lost fades away and a more rational thinking can prevail.
The date on my plane ticket is fix and it will not happen sooner nor later regardless of what I do. Besides there is one more little, pleasant task to do. I have promised Andres I will visit him at his home in Santa Rosa, La Pampa. Still missing about 1.200 kilometres. Since I cannot teleport myself over there I climb on Lou and together we hit the Road.

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

Desert Solitude

About two months ago I descended from the Peruvian Andes down to the coast and started my »romance« with the desert. After almost 3.000 km I have reached La Serena, Chile a few days ago. Here is where Atacama, the World dries desert, ends. On average there is only 15mm of rainfall per year and there are some weather stations that have never received any rain. In some areas they were even unable to find any signs of life, not even bacteria.
On the outskirts thou, first signs of life do start to appear. So in the days approaching La Serena I have started to see more vegetation around me. Small shrubs and cactuses were gradually winning the battle with sand and rocks. My eyes are starting to get used to greenery.

Regardless how much I love deserts, I do have to admit that the past two months were tough. Desert is an extreme environment. Kilometres and kilometres of nothing, emptiness. The sun is already high in the sky at 8h and it doesn’t get weaker until about 19h. The wind picks up around noon and doesn’t rest until sunset or it keeps on howling into the night all the way until morning. And all the time without any possibility of running away from the elements. No shade, no shelter from the wind. All that you have is a bicycle and turning the pedals hoping you make it to a shade that can be 60-70 or even more kilometres away. A lonely house of a roadside inn which around here is called posada. A location where you can stock up on water, refresh yourself with a cold drink and treat your body with some rest in a shade. Providing of course the posada is open. But if you go into this adventure with some of my trademark brightness, then you leave the comfortable and cosy city environment of Antofagasta on January 1st and you make sure that you will go through the most empty stretch exactly when everything is closed for two days. I did stock up on water before leaving Antofagasta but the next day I made it to a posada that was closed. Normally in Chile only January 1st is a holiday, but this year the president of Chile probably knew that I will be wandering around so she made January 2nd also a holiday. How lucky am I?! This meant I could only use the shade of the posada. Surely welcome but it doesn’t quench my thirst. Fortunately there was a camp for workers building a new power line about 30km further ahead. There I was able fill up my water bag. One of the workers caught up with me on the road about an hour later and he gave me an extra bottle of water. Also Chileans proved to be a hospitable and friendly nation. The way they have been on many occasions in this month that I have spent in Chile. Sometimes I was given a cold drink somewhere beside the road when a car has stopped and waited for me to drag myself to it and they were able to give me a cold drink. Once it happened that a car was unable to stop so they just slowed down to throw a bottle of water into the desert. I have stopped, picked it up and drank it.

At the same time, this is an area of the clearest night skies. After the wind calms down, when the Sun is saying goodbye and with its last rays escorts the da into night, small lights start to light up on the sky. Usually this is the time when I have already finished my first dinner and with a cup of coffee in my hand, speechless, I watch the Universe and this magic transformation of light into dark. All the effort I have invested during the day to reach this magic place is gone, like it has never existed.
The show actually never stops, but at some point you find yourself surrounded by silence and the starry carpet. Its clearness and immensity have always enchanted me. And so I have, in moments of infinity, where Time and Space do not exists, often just sat there until my neck started to ache. At the same time I was there, anywhere in the World and nowhere all at the same time.

Most of my time I have spent in kilometres and kilometres of emptiness, solitude. The only sign of life were spars trucks and buses overtaking me. In their absence I’ve listened to the sound of silence, only a hushed buzzing of the tires being bitten by the tarmac. Nobody in sight, just me and Lou.
In all this solitude I never felt lonely. I just was and I was alone. Alone with my thoughts and feelings. Hours and hours “walking” through the remotest parts of your own consciousness (or thinking about more practical stuff like how to repair a big hole in your front pannier). There is no society that would force you to put on a mask that is more socially acceptable. The kind that slowly, bit by bit robs you of your own identity, of your own Being. No need for that and the immensity and roughness of the surroundings in a way also do not allow you to waist your energy on these kind of things. You just are the way you are and you have to accept yourself like that. Sometimes I like myself more, sometimes less, but all of this is Me.

Andres and I went our separate ways just before entering Antofagasta. I wanted to go into the city, nothing urgent, just profiting for a while the benefits of civilization like running water, supermarket and the option to connect with the World. This meant about 25km of a detour and also one not so nice climb on exiting the city. He wanted to avoid all this. After months and thousands of kilometres he had behind him, he felt that home is practically within reach (true, still about 2.000 km away, but at the same time so close). So close to home he did not want to make an unnecessary stop and additional kilometres and climbs. He stayed on the by-pass road and continued south towards his family and friends waiting for him in Argentina. I on the other hand turned off and descended into Antofagasta and only virtually connected myself with my family. But the goodbye was “Hasta la proxima vez!” (Until we meet again).

Not only the separation but also all the kilometres of emptiness, solitude, brought to the surface the sentiment of homesickness in me. I miss my family, friends, familiar surroundings, I have never denied that. The down side of travelling is that I’m not home with familiar, dear people. That I cannot have a cup of coffee on a balcony with my brother, that I cannot go to my mother for a lunch, that I cannot go for a beer (well, two since it’s never just one) with a friend.
Since a few months ago I have decided to prolong my wandering in South America for about a year, my reunion with my dear ones has been postponed for the same period of time. And this aspect of my otherwise brilliant plan of discovering what lies behind a corner is something I have never really liked. So in the kilometres of desert solitude I have decided that I’ll return home, temporarily, just for a visit. With the help of internet I managed to find an affordable plane ticket and with some help from my family I have also bought it and am now ready to return to Slovenia end of March to enjoy the springtime over there.
With this I’m officially announcing that from the end of March until mid-May I’m open for invitations for a cup of coffee, a beer or straight to a picnic. Just let me know where and when.

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

The Plans Are Changing

Sitting in a small, stuffy hotel room (fuck it, it’s cheap) in Nasca. Still in Peru. After almost three months it seems like it’s never going to end. A few days ago I saw a sign that indicated that I still have more than 1.000 km to the border. I do have to admit it’s starts to drag a little.
But on the other hand I’m glad that the mountains are behind me. Regardless of their beauty and mightiness they are though. Especially when, for I don’t know what day in a row, you wake up in a tent by the roadside and you know that it’s just going to be another day of grinding uphill and still it’s not going to end today. It’s simply wears you down.
It’s also because of this that I felt some kind of relief upon reaching the coastal lowlands. It will keep on going to be tough as it was shown to me in the first days of it since this is desert land. Here the sun and the wind can form a ruthless partnership that slowly but surely drain your energy away. But then again this combination does have it’s magic, especially in the evening when the day is saying it’s goodbye, the wind is calming down and the sun takes on a painter’s role of pastel colours on rocky or sandy plains which seems to get lost somewhere in infinity.
Though this plains can lose some of its magic in the morning when you are walking and walking in search of some privacy from the looks from the road and “restaurant” behind which you camped. I like to do my morning no. 2 in peace and a half-hour walk towards horizon when you can clearly sense movement in your intestines doesn’t feel that magic.

But let me try to go back to the theme I wanted to write about – The plans are changing.
Sometime in the last days of Ecuador my conscience started to receive the first signals that the Road in front of me is still long, very long. Mountains of Peru, plateau of Bolivia, desert of northern Chile, plains of central Argentina and to finish it off the Patagonia and Tierra del Fuego. About 10.000 kilometres more. And timing isn’t really on my side. From about November up to March there is a rainy season in Peru and Bolivia. And as I was to later find out in the mountains of central Peru through first-hand experience, this in practice means afternoon storms. They seemed to be an everyday occurrence. Right around 14h everything is cloudy and an occasional thunder can be heard with a lightning brightening up the sky. Above 4.000 metres there is no rain but rather hail, from time to time even snow. Not that pleasant if not outright dangerous. Also because of this Andres and I normally stopped for the day around that time. With ample time to find maybe another roof over our head but surely some shelter from the wind that can be surprisingly cold and does keep on reminding you of any potential hole you might have in your windstopper.
This early calling it a day obviously slows you down. Since I’m no Lance Armstrong this additionally shortens the distance I get to cover daily. Consequently this prolongs my stay in Peru.
This much I did learn in my life that I cannot change the topography of the countryside nor can I do anything about the climate. This left me with no other option but to start looking at other options that would enable me to visit the places that I want to visit and in doing so try to avoid as much of inconveniences in form of rain and cold as I can. The more I have fiddled around with different options available to me, the more I started to realize that my physics teachers were right – it’s physically impossible to be at more than one place at the same time. It simply cannot be done! After being stuck for a while in this seemingly unsolvable puzzle a revolutionary thought passed my brain. What if I change my route and start to calculate to visit Tierra del Fuego next summer in the Southern hemisphere (i.e. December 17 – March 18)?!
Be as it may, in Life you can make plans for the future and worry about what is going to happen and then you meet reality and it forces you to change your plans a bit. And it’s not that bad at all, is it?! After all, it was Forrest Gump who said (well actually it was his mother but let’s not go into too many details): “Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you gonna get!”

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

Just watched it the other day – memories!

 

snowing
Snowing!

 

goodbye_mountains_in_peru
Goodbye mountains in Peru!

On Education

Not going to write about how important it is to go to school, listen to the teacher, do your homework and all in all be a good student. No, what I will write is about the lack of education and how sometimes it is delivered in improper manner in some parts of the World.
In Peru, where I’m currently located, the lack of education can be seen on a daily basis. Just so that there will be no confusion or mistake, it’s not only Peru where this occurs. And that it is delivered in an improper manner was very explicitly demonstrated to Andres and me on one sunny day when we have reached yet another small town by the road.
After visiting several shops we managed to buy bread and butter so we decided to have a short break and have our lunch on the main square. In all Latin America the main square is reserved for a small park and it is surrounded by a church, usually the municipality building and sometimes some other very important public office.
This town was no different so we have searched for the only shadow that was available to us. While I was parking Lou I turned my head away from Andres and when I have turned it back once again, he was already surrounded by about ten kids aged on average around 10. Great, there goes a peaceful lunch. Countless questions were inevitable. So we sat, kids all around. We were trying to put butter on our bread without putting it on any of the heads that were curiously, annoyingly prying into us. The conversation soon touched the theme of God, his miracles and similar. The kids were able to dictate everything by heart.
I will not go into sensfulness of the education provided (forced!) by the Church since that would be more like a battle with windmills. The interest of capital here is just too strong. The sheep needs to be straighten out early, very early. Best if it is yet unable to read or write and later on any potential access to information needs to be cut off from it. Uneducated it can be more easily manipulated. And here in Peru (again, not only here but all over the World) they seem to be quite successful in doing so.
We have received lots of stares full of condemnation of heresy from the kids that have started to argue with us as we have said that our mothers gave birth to us and that we were not created by the angry dude with a grey beard that is hiding somewhere up above. It’s no surprise that we are meeting 15 year old mothers with babies.
But the purpose of this post is not just to be grumpy about it all. No, I actually have some constructive suggestions that I would like to share and to the best of my knowledge I will not be in any conflict with what the Bible is teaching (fuck it, I haven’t really study it so I cannot be sure).
Let me put some concrete ideas here (all references to the Bible are based on my vague memories, so there will not be any exact quotes):
1. When you are teaching them Genesis and how God created everything on Earth, do tell them that God’s idea did not include piles of shit and plastic on every step. And that he wants it to stay that way! – Maybe this way we can keep the countryside clean.
2. When you are describing to them the Last Supper. Do please put some emphasis on the fact that there is no mentioning of there being more than 13 of them in the room. That they had peace while they were eating and that nobody was asking Jesus why he talks so funny (e.g. “This is my body given for you…). – Maybe this way future cyclists passing through here will not get the feeling of being an animal in a ZOO. Maybe they will be able to avoid the situation where the municipality does provide you with an empty meeting room for the night. Just that you then end up sharing it for at least 3 hours with a night’s guard and two of his buddies, Them sitting at the table, observing you how you are repairing a bicycle, preparing yourself dinner, how you eat and wash dishes. Somehow we than managed to make them go away before we unrolled our sleeping bags and have fallen asleep. To avoid nocturnal observation we blockaded the door.
3. When you are teaching them the teachings of Jesus, in particular about loving thy neighbour. Do explain them this more in details. It seems that the current explanation does not have the desired effect. If it would have had, then we would not receive several times a day shouts of “Gringo!” with a very negative tone.
I will stop here so not to be too long. There are more ideas that I have. Maybe something in line of logical thinking as to avoid stupid questions. An example would be when they are staring at you with a bicycle, probably all sweaty and in the end they ask you: ”Don’t you get tired?” “No, you dumb idiot! I’m some sort of a special species from another planet that gets tired only if it lays still!”
Obviously there is plenty of other, way more useful knowledge than knowing the whole story about a madman that has heard voices in his head, built a boat on top of a mountain into which he put two specimens of every species on Earth (by the way, today, a few thousand years later we are still discovering new species). Maybe they could do something in the direction of general knowledge. This way people (e.g. police) would not be asking Andres where is Argentina. The whole continent has 12 independent countries. And maybe he would not be congratulated by the locals on how good he speaks Spanish.
I will not go into the fact that some of them have no idea that Europe is another continent when the debate comes to a point when they ask me where I’m from.

It could be that I have high expectations, but we have to aim high!

With a Smile on my face, until next time!
Simon

a_more_representative_photo_of_the_landscape
Surely a more realistic photo of a Peruvian landscape