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Every step hurts. By now I must have wandered over ten kilometers, still lacking at least an other ten. Every breath of the purest air and the sounds of life give me strenght to proceed my journey. The need to explore surpasses my exhaustion giving me power that surely is going to backfire when I have the chance to rest my poor feet. The pain doesn't reach my attention when every single step leads me further into the unbelievable beauty. I was told to walk aside a tiny stream passing some lovely villagers, fields and farms. It seems I am not the only one enjoying the view - from time to time the path is blocked by pigs, donkeys or chicken. This time it was a huge bull staring right at me, giving me this look that I wasn't welcome. It keeps staring while I carefully approuch it trying to get pass it. I was once told not to look bulls in the eyes so I try my hardest to avoid it's killer stare. I take a deep breath and hold it till I know I'm at least three bulls away from it. I continue walking my mind at ease occasionally stopping to take photos. I would love to check if I was even close yet but I don't have internet. Who needs these useless devices anyway? After following the tiniest stream for an other while, I reach a tremendous waterfall. Of course I have to risk it all by going down the wet rocks but got soon up because of the sight-concealing fog. And because of getting sokaed and cold but it was definitely worth it. I needed a little revival anyway. After recovering my hearing back from the pouring water I start hearing the beautiful singing of the birds again. The refreshing wind against the leaves sounds like the most delicate symphony to my ears. The stream has faded so getting to the destination is up to my memory. I had walked this very same route about eight years ago when we last visited my then recently died grandparents. But I have nothing to worry about because somehow I have this assuring feeling of my ancestors guiding me to the right place. Besides, it wouldn't even matter walking a couple of extra kilometers to the wrong direction because the route itself is undeniably stunning. I would say breathtaking if I wasn't so out of my breath right now. The thin air of the Andes makes it almost impossible to advance fast. But I have time, I thought to myself while having an allowed break. The view to the mountain range is something that I can't keep my eyes from. I knew I wouldn't change anything to get to observe all this indescribable wonder. I have never felt such ataraxia. By now my feet have gone numb. But I already recognize the signs of my dad's home village, Acos Vinchos. I start hearing voices of life; kids playing football and their mother shouting at them. I stop at the local florist to buy everything needed which is awfully hard without managing their native language Quechua. Then I start taking my last steps towards the final destination. They have apparently renewed the cemetery, I notice while arranging the flowers in the porcelain vase. I put the vase between us and take the last rest of my trip with my beloved grandparents. I light a cigarette for my grandfather, just like my father used to do for him. The smoke was part of my grandfather's many rituals, they said. After him smoking his cigarette I say my prayers and greetings from the family, especially from my father. After a while I kiss them goodbye and thank them for leading me here the right path. I knew this is the place where I needed to be this exact moment. So once again I thank humbly and turn to face my next journey.