Roy The Boy

A bumbling (but adorable) mess of a man ... whom for reasons of forgetfulness... and it just seemed to fit...Becca and I had dubbed "Roy".

Roy (...a rather youthful looking) 53, was wearing a leeds united jersey, denim jacket... jeans under lapping his socks... (...and...much like my very own writing style...

...init) supported a rather confused Middle/Working class accent...combined with (a rather cute) underbite...

We´d (Becca and I) had stumbled across him when we working our best "negoatation skillz" with (a self appointed) man of the Venezuelan Black Market...

(a system which would give you twice as much "bang for your buck" then the regular (but considerably safer) bank)..

...and...he (Roy that is) was informing us of his (rather elaborate) camping plans, booby traps and the many practical uses of his golfing umbrella

(...one of which I surprised to learn... was collecting rain water)...

(...to drink)

Having little more than a notepad with a couple of beaches scribbled on them... Roy (using my rather shoddy Spanish and the advice my book had given us about getting into town)...accompanied us to the (very unwelcoming) Hostel Nuestro (...an iron bar cladded dive in the Santa Babara district of Caracus)... where we would spend the night.

By morning (Not having left the Nuestro) Roy had decided that he´d seen enough (assuming feeling a little a hasty and under prepared for his 3 month trip camping in wilderness with little funds, his notepad, an umbrella (...for collecting rain water) and some sugar sachets which he had procured from his flight)...

... this is where we parted ways from Roy...heading for the North East coastal beaches of Chroni (...which...it turns out are pretty fucking nice)...

We (...Becca and I) still often ponder about Roy and his whereabouts...

Time circuits on. Flux Capacitor... fluxxing. Engine running. All right!

Ecuador...(I read somewhere that)...you can drive across it in a day...

This was to work at well for me as I had somewhat forgotten the concept of time and the frequency of which I travelled had somewhat slowed down (...all the signs of laziness).

This would be the first of four (known) occasions where a ticket would dictate where I should be...and when...

(Close friend and general tearaway) Rebecca Scales was to arrive in Caracas Airport on the 15th of December...

With less than two weeks looming, a distance of 1083 miles to cover and a desire to see some of Ecuador before her imminent arrival... I called upon the eye of the tiger...

Cuenca´s Museums and Bakeries didn't know what hit them

Banos and it´s thermal baths just got a bit hotter (...although you wouldn't have known (I certainly didn´t) that the town was being evacuated because of it´s neighbouring volcano´s activities (also...it´s source of lovely hot baths).

Mindo...Smindo

...La Isla Bonita...en Montinita

(...also somehow managing to find the time to charm and subsquently fling with a German Scientist)

rore

Turn On, Tune in, Bug out

I´d first heard it mentioned as far back as Argentina.

Now it was being discussed over breakfast lunch and dinner...

San Pedro, a common Cactus growing throughout the continent, although "it´s home" more commonly associated with the lush hippy dippy town of Vilcabamba (Ecuador)...
Besides it´s associations with Vilcabamba... The San Pedro Cactus was more famous for it´s supposed hallucinogenic (and token Medicinal) effects.

They (the group of people I had befriended... and shared most of my meals with) had partaken in (the rather ridiculously named)"Scared Medicine Journey".... a "spiritual ceremony" where one would consume the cactus...
... it´s aftermath was high on the topic of conversation (although most comments were frustratingly fluffly and a bit vague).



This would be one of the occasions were I felt compelled to "scratch that itch" and fulfill my curiosity.

I arranged a meeting with (the rather mystic) Felicia (Mystic... because she would squint every time she would say something profound)... An Austrian Shaman (or Sha-woman in this case) who had made Vilcabamba home for the last 25 years.
Felicia explained to me "the journey" and it´s procedures (...although I was still none the wiser afterward)
...establishing that we were going to sit by a fire, stay up all night and take Drugs...all (of course) in the formalities of a respectable ancient indigenous "ceremony".

I filled the remaining time between then and Sunday going on the many (excellent) independent hikes, drinking vegetable smoothies and getting attacked by dogs.


After fasting the entire day, the ceremony began at 9pm with Felicia wafting us (their were 3 others) with "Herby" smoke (this was supposed to represent the eradicating of bad spirits).... then came some chanting, drumming and prayer to "the pachamama" (Mother Earth).

This was followed by the consumption of "the medicine"... A rather unpleasant tasting green liquid which induces (almost certain) Nausea and Vomiting.

3 hours of Silence and contemplation pass (interrupted (of course) by the occasional song of barfing).

Little by little my vision began to blur, shapes confused... and before I knew it this (initially rather skeptical) gringo...was "off his tits".
For the remainder of the evening I fell in and out of conscienceness...experiencing the most intense (unfortunately indescribable) flowing visuals...Occasionally giving me feelings of euphoria...and occasionally fear...

...
..
.


After what felt like one of the longest (but shortest..."man") nights of my life, Dawn came...
(Exhausted but compelled) I mustered the little energy I had and fulfilled my urge to explore (the ever "coming to life" garten).
From that moment onwards "my trip" took on a inquisitive, exploratory nature... Like a child I found every experience...touch, smell, feeling... new and fascinating.
Feeling at one with nature, wrapped up in flower power and smiling from ear to ear... it would of been entertaining to watch these wide eyed, giggling zombies walking around bare footed... caressing trees.

...Felicia´s (very "fluffly feeling") animals only enhanced the experience...

...
..
.

(Still off our boxes) lunch time came and the ceremony was closed with a prayer and offering of wine to the pachamama
(although a little part of me died inside when we were "watering" the cacti with Reserva)

All in all it was (dare I say it) one of the better experiences of my trip... what with it being a bit "Far out"... and that...