I’d like to tell you I have a handful of individual stories while I was gone for two weeks, in two countries and visiting five cities—but I honestly can’t.
At best... I can share the fact that I saw beautiful landscapes, experienced a shitload of amazing adventures and ate extremely well. I did some soul searching and I pushed my own personal limits while away.
I propelled up a 100 meter tree in the Amazon rainforest. I have no idea what that equates to and I’m too lazy to check. All I know is that I was ridiculously high off the ground, with nothing but a harness and ropes. I’m not comfortable with heights, but fuckit.
I swam up to a waterfall that looked like anything but safe. I almost didn’t and I’m pretty comfortable with my swimming abilities. I got over it and I went under the falls. Shit was no joke.
I ate jaguar at an indigenous Amazon tribe’s village. It tasted like barbecue, it was still on the fire. They had the skin hanging outside the hut, the tail was still attached. “Shit. That’s the cat we just ate.”
I witnessed the best fucking golden hour of my life at Pao de Azucar. I collect golden hours. That wins. I was there an hour and a half early to make sure I didn’t miss the sunset. I checked the weather forecast, we only had two days of sunshine in Rio. IDGAF if it rained the rest of the time. I prioritized that sunset and I permanently have it now.
I swam in a blue lagoon and took in everything at that exact scene, all the other tourists, the warmth of the water and I contemplated how the fuck I got there.
I traveled a stupid number of hours to get from Rio to Machu Picchu. My spanish went to work the moment we left Rio. Then we woke up at 4am to see the splendor that is Machu Picchu. Trust anyone when they tell you that your ass should be in line for the bus at 5am, you need to beat the crowds.
I ate guinea pig, cause you cannot go to Peru and not try cuy. When in Rome, yo. When in Rome. We almost tried Alpaca too, but my sister and I were too cheap to take the risk of it being gamey and offending the person preparing it for us.
I sand boarded down 200 foot sand dunes with the help of three shots of pisco on an empty stomach. I had no problem volunteering to go first. I’d always end up at the bottom of the dune, laughing my ass off, like an insane child having too much fun. Thanks alcohol, I have balls, but you make them bigger.
I jumped of a cliff. I fucking jumped off a cliff and paraglided. I will have that moment stuck in my brain forever, the second my legs left the ground and the parachute took effect. I didn’t care about anything else, gliding over cliffs and the Pacific Ocean… picking up height… it didn’t matter, I just remember that split second where my legs didn’t have a purpose and I jumped off a fucking cliff.
Ohh. I guess I do have stories.