(Fri, 1st October, sitting on balcony of hostel, Vilcabamba, Ecuador) The little pompoms of vegetation along the electricity lines and the plant antenae rising from the moss-mottled roof tiles as I look across the road are a reminder of our nearness to the jungle. It was impossible to ignore the number of recommendations both I and Melanie (a Swiss girl I caught the bus with from Mancora and have spent the last few days with) received from travellers and locals alike for Vilcabamba, a quaint quiet town adjacent to the Podocarpus National Park, not far north of the Peruvian border. Gringos have been stopping here for decades to experience what has earned the “sacred valley” its reputation as a place of immortality, a fountain of youth where a sign in the leafy town plaza boasts living residents of up to 110 years old. Ever since the bulge on my back diminished to a small bump, I’ve been anticipating putting my backpack back on and starting to move again. After a week of not venturing beyond 1km of the resort-style swimming pool in my hostel in the balmy palm-treed beach town of Mancora, I finally crossed into Ecuador just over 2 days ago. Read the rest of this entry »
What You’ve Been Saying