19/5 Waiting most of the day for the mc-rental guys coming to help us with the completely dead bike. N is itching to get away. Luckily covered by the phone net where we got stuck.
Eventually they come and we swap bikes. We’re on our way!
Little mud houses are scattered around in clusters up in the mountains with straw roofs and wild secret gardens. Some of the houses have wooden balconies occupied by hens and cats, others don’t even have a chimney. Sitting on the back of a motorbike gives me so much time to just observe and let the ever changing landscape wash over me. What affect does it have on the soul to take in such immense quantities of beauty I wonder?
In the setting sun we’re passing all the people walking back from their plantations, all carrying wood or grass tied up on their back in the traditional way everyone carries things around here. Some with sheep or kettle on a tow. Some barefoot, others in worn out sandals. Most people weathered, old and thin.
20/5 Again going through villages entirely made of mud brick. Up in the desolate mountains we found a village with an old massive church (ruin) made of mud, with the bell tower still intact. It looked so out of place in the little poor village.
Made us wonder who’d come to build it and what this village might have been long ago. The locals we asked didn’t seem to know so we’re only left to our imagination.
After that a simple lunch in a bigger town and then up in the mountains again. The landscape is ever changing and breath taking. The constant is the lack of flat roads, you’re always going up or down a mountain and almost every single mountain has old terraces for farming up to the very peaks. It’s mind blowing to think it’s actually been farmed.
The engineering of the plantations is just incredible! And to think the Incan empire was just ruling 100 years and without influences from other cultures (outside the andes) it’s just mind blowing what they achieved. Before the frickin Spaniards came dvs.