We’re going to South America soon. Our tickets are booked and waiting, a space for us reserved on some LAN Chile manifest sheet. Our backpacks are empty and expectant, a smug 38L, ready to be carted across insanely expansive plains and up the mountains of the Andes. I haven’t thought much about it until now. It hasn’t felt real. South America to me is just a massive expanse of land on the other side of the map, sketched scribbles tracing far away mountain ranges and coastlines, like a figment of a particularly geographically gifted kid’s imagination.
But it is starting to whet the appetite for adventure, writing this. I am beginning to imagine landing in Santiago, to a cold, sprawling city, filled with a language that I love and people who will speak it much too fast for me. My own rusty Spanish will be dusted off and I will try, shyly at first, perhaps to a shopkeeper who might smile bemusedly and step closer to lend me his ear. But it will get better, along with our pathway across the continent, and by the time we hit Santiago again I will make that same man laugh and nod with some witty local repartee. That’s the plan anyway, so here’s hoping.
I’m not taking a laptop – hell I’m not even taking face wash, obsessed with that elusive minimalism as we are – so I am practising by writing this with pen and paper, scrawling black lines of ink across the pages of an uncharacteristically girly Typo notebook. My hand has already started to cramp – I’m going to have to get better if I’m going to document this trip properly. But the thirst has begun now, almost like the ink that has unlocked it, my sense of adventure has begun to flow.
We are travelling there in August, the South American winter. Working for a New Zealand skydiving company, it’s hard to get time off in our shared summer. So because of this we are starting north – after a quick stop in Santiago we hit Colombia, then down to Lima, then Cuzco, Machu Picchu, Bolivia, Argentina, Chile, Patagonia. Places that up until now have just been names and learned capitals, a word to pull out at a pub quiz with an ‘aha!’
I’m still getting my head around the fact that we will actually see these places, do mundane things like eat breakfast and wash our clothes in these far away cities. I guess that’s what travelling is about, really. The wonder, the thirst to keep going, see more, the absolute beauty and surrealism of the experience and the landscape, accompanied by everyday things like showering and clipping nails, those things that keep you tethered to home, to the person you are.
I can’t wait now. Time for the expired passport to be renewed, the Mini sold, the tiny backpack packed. My hand is killing me now. I’ll be back for more practice soon.