After being stuck in the sleepy boarder town of Maraca on Easter Friday where everything was shut it took us nearly the whole next day to reach Vilcabamba. We arrived there in the dark and the place looked tiny, run down and dead. There seemed to be a crazy party train driving around town full of drunken locals who seemed to have a pretty amazing time. During the night we got woken up by strange noises and we realised are hostel was situated next to a slaughterhouse where pigs were killed by cutting their throats all through the night.
When we woke up the next morning we were stunned by the views outside our window. We were surrounded by hills and we used the good weather to hike to a nearby lookout. After reaching the top we decided to carry on walking on top of the ridge to use a different way for the decent. Unfortunately it wasn't signposted at all (as nothing ever is in South America) but apart from a few scratches from all the spiky plant and trees Phil navigated us well down hill and we treated ourselves to a nice German meal on Easter Sunday.
When we woke up the next morning we were stunned by the views outside our window. We were surrounded by hills and we used the good weather to hike to a nearby lookout. After reaching the top we decided to carry on walking on top of the ridge to use a different way for the decent. Unfortunately it wasn't signposted at all (as nothing ever is in South America) but apart from a few scratches from all the spiky plant and trees Phil navigated us well down hill and we treated ourselves to a nice German meal on Easter Sunday.
2 comments:
Party train eh? sounds like my kinda place!
wow, you went right thru' Vilcabamba and never stayed to check out the REAL things happening there? Man you missed a blast. The first time we went there we stayed a fort night. The second time 10 days. I love the place. People live to 120 - 130 years there! Believe me, next time someone goes there: open your eyes!
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