Ecuador(1) – Papallacta (“Papa’s House”)

I met up with the rest of the tour group in Quito and Papallacta: Caroline, an electricity trader from London; Helmut, an automobile electrical system designer from Munich; and my friend Sarah, environmentalist from Calgary, Canada. Our guide and translator is Carlos, who studied tourism in college and spoke fluent English. We got along wonderfully during the first day, but none of us expected that we would become such good friends in the next three weeks.

Quito’s elevation is 3100 meters. My half-expected high-attitude sickness didn’t show. I was happy. The second day we went in the Andes, stayed over night in a lovely hot spring town at elevation 3800 meters, Papallacta (in Quichua, it means Papa’s House). We had our own red walled cabin, equipped with our private pool right in front of the cabin. It was the clearest hot spring I had ever seen. The pool itself was made from polished black volcanic rocks, pretty.

After dinner, we all went in the pool. The rain clouds covered up our “natural water heater”. We started interrogating Carlos about the Quichuan family we would be staying with in the jungles, starting tomorrow. I was a little apprehensive about the upcoming two days. Carlos, however, proceeded to tell us about the spirits that live in that jungle area. He said that there was a very beautiful ghost who lived with the tribe with which we would be staying. Every time he came with a group, she always visited him at night. Often she would morph into a golden monkey and curl up in his arms. Occasionally she would let him see her real self—a tall and skinny brunette, with very long hair.

Carlos also told us about “Ayawashca”, a Quichua drink made from a special root in the jungles. It gave you incredible visions. Quichuan shaman can cure all kinds of illness under its influence. Carlos gave us a mysterious smile, “Everyone responses to ‘Ayawashca’ differently. Some can see bright colored animals, some can only see dark and sad things. It is all in your heart.” He laughed, “How about it? Would you like to try?” I laughed, too, “I don’t really want to know how dark my heart is!”

It started drizzling, then. I started wondering about the Southern Cross that I had never met. Slowly she must have risen behind those dark rain clouds, and I was not allowed to see.

After laying down in bed, I realized the high altitude sickness had finally caught up with me. A thumping headache refused to stop.

I wondered which kind of surprise the jungle spirits were preparing for me tomorrow…

It was a sleepless night.