in time // h.s.

xxxiv. harry

Twenty-four years old...

I'd been in South America for four months, travelling from place to place. I started, as planned, in Ecuador at the Montanita Spanish School. It's surprising how quickly you can cut off from your previous existence when you're thousands of miles away, sat on a beach in the sunshine with new friends who know nothing about you. Needless to say, I told no one of the broken-hearted girl I'd left behind and, although I did talk about Janet and Matty, I'd decided to not tell anyone about my other feelings. No change there, then.

I'd gone from Ecuador to Columbia, Brazil, Paraguay, Uruguay, Argentina, Chile and Bolivia, in that order. Catching buses and planes, or sometimes trekking if I was feeling super-adventurous. For the first time since university I felt liberated and carefree, ready to do anything or go anywhere that tickled my fancy. I fell in love with the sights again and again. Every day brought a new experience to treasure.

I listened to the thunder of the water at Iguazu Falls, Brazil, which was, quite awesomely, like something from Jurassic Park. Huge waterfalls splashed from every corner while I sat on a feeble-feeling viewing platform, unable to peel my eyes away, expecting a pterodactyl to fly overhead at any second. I was mildly disappointed when it didn't.

I soaked up the peaceful tranquillity of Lake Titicaca, watching the sunset as it caused a vivid array of colors to reflect on the expansive lake. Oranges, reds, pinks and purples swirled in the sky and in the water, making it appear otherworldly. Janet would have loved it, the photographs I'd managed to take on just my bog-standard camera were insane.

Of everything I'd done on my trip by that point, sandboarding down the dunes at Huacachina, taking in the obscene view as I went, was definitely one of my highlights. Not only was I propelled off a sandy mountain at a ridiculously fast speed (it's a wonder I didn't scream like a girl all the way down), but the beauty of the world around me was breath-taking. Massive sand dunes curved their way for miles around, eventually ending at the horizon where they were met by the deep-blue sky above. It was impossible not to feel in awe of it all.

The world was a big place with so much to offer, I was happy to greedily soak up as much as I could of it.

***

That day in November I'd arrived in Cusco, Peru. Getting off a long bus ride late-afternoon, I'd decided to chill in one of its town squares with a cold beer as I watched the locals around me going about their daily business. A group of old men, all wearing a mixture of grey and white trousers and shirts, had gathered on the adjacent bench to me, taking it in turns to talk passionately about something as the others keenly listened and nodded in agreement. I'd no idea what they were saying, but they were interesting to watch. Mothers wandered past, their babies barely visible beneath the multi-colored blankets they were tied to their bodies with. All the while, at least a dozen stray dogs roamed around to different people, seeing if anyone would offer them scraps of whatever food they were eating.

It was while I sat there, in the Peruvian sun with my Peruvian beer, that I got a text from Matty asking if I was free for a Skype chat later that day. I hadn't spoken to him for a couple of weeks, it wasn't always easy to keep in touch, especially if I was off somewhere remote.

As a rarity, I'd treated myself to a private room in the hotel I was staying in for a few nights, knowing that I'd be camping a couple of days later when I joined the Inca Trail. I'd known I needed to get in as much decent sleep as I could before that. So rather than having a bunch of strangers around me as I tried to make the private call, it meant I was on my own, in my little single room, strumming at the battered up guitar I bought in Uruguay, when the Skype call came through a couple of hours later.