I have a dream

by Sebastian Velasquez Mazo (Colombia)

I didn't expect to find Peru

I have a dream, to explore Machu Picchu. The first time I heard about this place was at school, in the mid-90s; Days later I was in the small library of my town looking for images, I promised myself that I would go through their passages. Over the years I started my life as a traveler, sealing my passport several times but the nearby country was elusive. The opportunity was given, I planned my tour and left Medellín to Lima; the unique plan in my trip was: the lost city. A couple of days in Lima and then, the hoped flight to Cusco. I left my hostel heading to the airport, I underestimated the traffic, when I ran through the entrance to the airport and checked the screens I read "Flight closed". With immense anger by my mistake, but with my dream intact I bought another flight to Cusco, triple the cost of the one I lost. The flight would leave until the next day at 5:00 am, so I slept uncomfortably but economically at the airport. I arrived at the boarding room two hours before. I Wait. The time of the flight arrived and the poster announced "Delayed", spent an hour, two and the third they announced "Canceled". The airline alternative: another flight for the next day at 5:00. I took the option, I looked for a stay near the airport and slept like a baby. I woke up and on my watch it was 5:00 am, with stupor I checked waiting to see “Delayed” on the flight on the airport page, it said “Finishing boarding”. I got a sea of bad energies, guilt and frustration began to fill me, the cost overruns, the long distance, the loss of hotel reservations, entrance to the monument ... I took a shower so cold as I could, calmed down and decided it was not our moment. I packed up and headed to the bus terminal. I asked counter by counter which was the first bus that had space and left, the destination didn't matter, I didn't wanna be in the city anymore, I needed to move. At a ticket office there was a bus to “Huaraz”, I bought it without ever having heard of that place. The landscape itched upwards, we passed mountains and mountains. At about 6:00 pm I arrived in Huaraz, when I left the terminal the cold hit me as a greeting and I was amazed by the white peaks that I observed on the horizon. I found a hostel and there offers me a trekking for the next day at 4:30 am, destination: lagoon 69 (medium difficulty, only eight kilometers of road, an ascent of 700 meters, going from 3900 to 4600 meters). Camera in hand, backpack with provisions, plenty of water and a few sweets and coca leaves that the guide recommended us, “I come from mountains, the high is not a problem” I said. After two hours of walking, I regretted my words. It gave me soroche (altitude sickness) in the absence of about 800 linear meters, but about 150 on the rise. My backpack tripled in weight, every ten steps I had to stop, my head hurts, my vision was lost. I think I made those 800 meters in an hour and a half. I crowned the end with the vision almost blank, I could perceive little of my environment, but the vision of the lagoon was the most striking blow, lying on the floor I watched its Caribbean and almost indescribable blue, its shades like sapphires and turquoise. I don’t know how long I was out of breath, without strength, but smiling treasuring in my memory that site that you only see in postcards and blogs that you suppose "That´s Photoshop". I forgot Machu Pichu, how I got there, what I suffered, the weight of the kilometers, the nausea, your brain saying "Return"; it was a landscape and feeling that I´ll never forget. The descent was another ordeal, but I had the satisfaction of having achieved it, looking at the mountain behind me I thought: "It wasn´t Machu Picchu but is was a dream that I didn´t even know that I had"