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Published: April 4th 2016
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Vilcabamba to Zumba
Bus stuck in the mud It is a funny thing, time. It always moves forward. And before you know it the time allotted to your trip has come to an end. You look back and there it is, and yet is not. Two weeks ago you remember still being in Ecuador. You remember planning your journey back to Lima. Taking that road from Vilcabamba to Zumba. The road that started paved and ended as a dirt road. The fantastic scenery, jungle clad mountains, steep ravines, raging rivers. The precipitous drops threating the tires of the bus which seemed to hover over the edge of the road, rather than clinging to it. The road never seemed to end, snaking its way through those green hills, up and down valleys, every turn affording new majestic views. And then suddenly you arrived in Zumba. And yet you hadn’t arrived at your destination. There was still time left to cross the border into Peru. All you had to do was take a taxi to La Balsa, down an even more decrepit road than the one you had just arrived on. Down to the river, to the bridge marking the border. On the other side Peru, and a sealed road.
Tarapoto
Our room in Tarapoto You remember that time meant something different in Peru than in Ecuador. Passport control on the Peruvian side, though official open, was unmanned. Siesta perhaps? Waiting. Asking. Nobody knew where he or she was. Who cares about opening times in a country where time means nothing? Where one o’clock might mean three o’clock, or maybe even four. An hour later a man arrived on his bike, unperturbed by those waiting. No explanations given. What’s the use of explaining time spent? Yes, you recall it all vividly.
You remember arriving in San Ignacio, tired. Thinking off pushing on to Jaen, but time wouldn’t allow it. And your mum was tired. It was late already. Night was falling. Time to sleep. Tomorrow, you thought to yourself, is another day. Sleep restores the weary. Another morning arrived. Another journey. First to Jaen. Just in time to catch the bus to Tarapoto. More outrageously beautiful landscapes passed you by. Waterfalls, mountain lakes, rainforests, gorges, highlands. Your recollections of that ten hour trip are still vivid.
And how it was time to rest afterwards. How the long days on buses had taken their toll. Tarapoto had been planned in by you as a
Tarapoto
It as raining in Tarapoto pit-stop, a bus-less day, a day to inquire about the next part of the trip. An alternative road. Not the coastal road, which both your mother and you had taken many times. Instead a road leading up a valley. From the jungle along the flanks of the mighty Andes to Tingo Maria in the foothills. And from Tingo Maria to Lima. That was the idea.
But time is both the giver and destroyer of ideas. It was the time of the rainy season. Rain swelled the rivers which produced the landslides which washed away the intended road. It was closed. ‘Rainy season’, explained the man at the tourist office with a shrug.
Tarapoto was the end of our alternative road to Lima. You remember contemplating turning back and taking the coastal route anyway, or… Fly. To fly is to save time, you thought. And energy. More time to spend with my brother in Lima. It clinched the deal. It was time well spent.
And then Easter came along. And Kim, my brother’s eldest. Eighteen now. And three months into his military service for the Finnish armed forces. The Finnish army is generous though. They paid for Kim’s
Lima
Brother and sister home-leave. A return ticket to Lima to visit his family. One week to say hi and goodbye. A week is a blink of an eye for time. It is strange to think of Kim as all grown up. I remember when my brother told me he was becoming a dad. I remember the birth of the little guy. And now he is in the army. Time flies.
It was also around the time of my brother’s birthday. He became a respectable 43. Age and time, another of those dreaded combinations. But age doesn’t matter unless you are a fruit-fly.
Kim has left again, and my brother is a year older. Soon I will follow in their footsteps. Leaving like Kim, and becoming a year older like my brother. We had a good time.
Yes, time is everywhere and always, and now it is time to go home. It's spring time. The garden needs tending, the house needs mending, and soon the pool will be started up and it will need cleaning. Not to mention my dwindling resources need topping up. Time for another trial me thinks!
And so it is time to end this blog. A
Lima
Hunting Easter eggs... Nina found one short blog, a waste of time perhaps. Only time will tell.
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Crannster
Theresa and Dave
Time out
This blog was certainly not a waste of time... Time cannot be wasted, it can be used productively or non-productively. Time is indeed a strange thing! Failed have our attempts as a society to keep track of time with our mediocre creations, such as clocks... Clocks can only keep up with time - not keep it. Fun blog...