Home at the shaman

That afternoon in February -laying in my hammock in San Augustin, South Colombia- I am reading ´the Celestine Prophecy’. A book that (among other things) states that everybody has a mission in life. A mission that one can find out by analysing their own life and the mission of their parents, the book says. With both a father and a mother that deliberately decided that spirituality is not for them and doing everything to prevent this from influences their life, it doesn’t take much to know what the book considers to be my mission in life. My mission in life is to discover spirituality. And my mission for today is part of that. It is to see a shaman, located in the most southern part of Colombia, Mocoa. To help me find that spirituality.

Coincidence or not, I am only just finishing the chapter about finding my mission in life, when Paloma, the lady of my hostel runs up to me. She has good news: she finally reached the shaman in Mocoa! The same shaman that we have been trying to call for a couple of days. I can pay him a visit on Monday, she says. Which means three days from today. Finally! I was already starting to doubt my plan. Maybe not reaching him was a sign, saying I shouldn’t be going there? But hearing this news from Paloma, makes me feel sure that my gut feeling was right: I am going to Mocoa and pay this shaman a visit! Because in spite of the fact that San Augustin -a village in the mountains in the south east of Colombia, where I have been staying for a couple of days- is heaven on earth, my mission for now is elsewhere.

If someone would tell you that you could clean your soul and mind by just paying a shaman a visit, what would you do? I decided to go and search this shaman. The ‘someone’ in this case is Paul, a Canadian backpacker that I met in Cali, a city in central Colombia a few weeks ago. He told me about his spiritual experiences with ayahuasca, also known as ´yage´. Good experiences. Crazy experiences. Experiences that cleared and cleaned his mind and his soul, he said. Which is something that is said more often about yage. After hearing his stories, I decided to find myself a good shaman to experience the same. Unfortunately finding a good shaman is not like opening a telephone book and dialling the right number though. There are only a few good shamans available in Colombia; Paloma only knows one shaman that is reliable enough to call. And now that I finally have found that one shaman, there is only one question on my mind: what the hell am I getting myself into?

Ayahuasca is a tea that has been used as a ritual for thousands of years by certain Indian tribes in the Amazon of South America. The Indians consider the drink to be the most important medicine of the forest. It always contains a combination of plants that contain DMT (Dimethyltryptamin) and plants that contain MAO inhibitors. DMT is a hallucinogenic that is decomposed quickly by the body after taking. Because the effects last only about an hour; the experience is sometimes funny enough referred to as a ‘businessman’s trip’. Breaking of the DMT is done by an enzyme called MAO. By adding a plant that slows down the breakdown of the MAO enzyme, the DMT can work a lot longer than normal. Sometimes up to 18 hours. The base of the drink is a liana, called Banisteriopsis Caapi. This liana is called ayahuasca, meaning ‘liana of the soul’ or ‘liana of the dead’ in the language of Peruvian Quecha-Indians. The drink is used to get into a psychedelic trip and come into contact with the spirits. And eventually to solve emotional, psychological and physical problems, to make predictions about the future or to serve God.

Yage was described for the first time by missionaries. Since they thought the drink was demonic, they decided to ban the drink. In 1851 the British Richard Spruce is the first westerner that collects parts of the ayahuasca-plant and sends them to the Royal Botanical Gardens in Kew. Where it wasn’t until 1969 (!) that the material was re-discovered and researched. He was not the only westerner with an interest in the ayahuasca plant though. The Catholic Santo Daime belief, founded in Brazil in the 1920’s, has always combined ayahuasca traditions with their Catholic religion. Yage doesn’t become famous though, until in 1963 the ‘Yage Letters’ are published. In which two British describe their experiences with ayahuasca. In Europe the use of yage has always tried to be prohibited, because one of the substances in ayahuasca –DMT- is a drug mentioned in the Opium Law. One exception was made for the Santo Daime belief, where ‘the holy tea’ was used as a religious ritual and they where therefore obliged to keep on using their ayahuasca sacrament.

But if ayahuasca contains DMT, than what about the risks of taking it? It is not for nothing that a woman died only a few weeks ago in Bogota after a (dodgy) shaman serving her ayahuasca, is it? To prevent myself from being naive, I find out some information on the darker side of this spiritual drink. Not all pretty. First of all ayahuasca causes a strong intoxication, with extreme visual hallucinations. Effects that can last up to sixteen hours! Just after taking the drink, the effects are highly unpleasant. You become nauseous and dizzy, perspire heavily and have to throw up. As far as known, ayahuasca is neither mentally nor physically addictive though. The experience is simply too heavy to do very often. Luckily, no cases are known of people that could not get out of their ayahuasca-trip anymore either. Long term effects are possible though, like confusion, hallucinations and unpredictably behaviour. Since a number of substances are not inhibited anymore after taking ayahuasca, like blue and old cheese and red wine, you should not eat or drink these just after taking the drink. On top of this, the combination of ayahuasca and certain medicines (and drugs) that influence the serotonin level can be dangerous, like Prozac and XTC.

Besides all of that, there is one other thing I am araid of. The reason for taking ayahuasca is that it cleans you mind and your soul. But in order for you to get clean, (probably) a lot of dirt needs to get out first. ‘To get to the sweet, you probably first have to go through the bitter’ is what the saying says. The way to do this is to throw up or pee the drink out. But most of the time this is not enough. Cleaning your mind also takes place by properly handling and processing bad thoughts that have been collected in your life. Experiences that never were processed on a conscious level, will have to be handled in another way in order to leave the body. Mark, a German guy that I met in San Augustin, did ayahuasca in Peru and told me that taking yage made him feel like he wanted to die. He had so many bad thoughts coming up, playing like a film in his head over and over again, that at some stage he could not handle it anymore. He had to ask the shaman to stop the ceremony because it felt so awful. The things he told me are now going through my mind over and over again. I try to beat my mind, by analysing what things could possibly come up during the ceremony; by analysing which things I have not handled well enough in my sub-consciousness. But do I want to take the risk of experiencing the same as Mark? And do I want to take the risk of dying halfway the ceremony night? And won’t I feel even worse the next day? And if so, how do I get myself back on track after that?
Scared or not, even after reading this information and thinking about the risks of doing ayahuasca, I am still determined I’ve made the right decision to go to Mocoa. Which is actually the reason why I am in San Augustin, a city located in the province of Putumayo -thé place where the shamans, the druids of Colombia- live. In spite of the fact I have other purposes for being here, San Augustin is a blessing in itself. Even without finding a proper shaman, San Augustin is heaven on earth. This cute village has pretty much everything you could possibly need. Besides beautiful nature and mountains, it contains the biggest (and only) archaeological excavations of Colombia. Except for Tierradentro, a village a few hundred kilometres to the north that is almost as spiritual and mysterious as San Augustin. Next to the countless friendly local Colombians that inhibit San Augustin, lots of hippies decided a long time ago to spend the rest of their life in this Colombian paradise. Which leaves a nice, almost spiritual feel to the place. Waiting definitely could be worse

To fully understand my mindset, I’ll try to give you a small example of my ‘Daily Moments of Happiness’ here in San Augustin.… These moments usually take place in my own finca, the Spanish word for farm. San Augustin is full of remote fincas, and actually there could be a million good places to stay here. But I chose to stay in a finca called Macon, that I found after a bit of searching. I have a cute little cabin of my own there, that almost reminds me of the fairytale of Hansel and Gretel and looks like it is made for dwarfs. Not only do I have a little balcony in the middle of the forest, inside the cabin the atmosphere is even more like a little fairytale. It has two floors that are connected with a little wooden staircase, and a bed that is built into the wall like a box bed. On one of my most intense ‘Daily Moments of Happiness’ it is almost midnight, time to go to bed. While the crickets are making lots of noise, the dogs are barking around and the cows have gone to sleep a long time before, I light one of the candles that are on the table of my little balcony. And read a few pages of my book, relaxing with a blanket in my hammock.


After a little while, I blow out the candle, walk into my wooden fairytale house that is at most nine square meters big. And close a few of the six windows that are in my room. I leave a few of them open, to be able to feel the wind and smell the fresh mountain-air while I fall asleep. I walk on the creaking wooden floor to my bed, cuddle up in my duvet –a pure luxury here in Colombia- and fall asleep with a smile on my face.

To wake up the next morning with the sunlight shining on my face, through the bamboo trees that are located on the side of my box bed. I open up one of the other windows, through which I see a cute Colombian man milking the local cow, necessary to supply the breakfast with fresh dairy. I open up the other windows, and notice the orange tree in front of my porch needs to be emptied for oranges not to fall of. I walk of the bamboo staircase inside my little home, to take a shower with real hot water. Which is a unique experience here in Colombia, like in so many other South American countries. After all those cold ones, a hot shower is ´da bomb´.

I get dressed and have breakfast on my own little porch, consisting of only freshly made things. Fresh milk and yoghurt, with thanks to the local milk cow. Topped with freshly made muesli and a bowl of fresh fruits. And accompanied by freshly baked bread with homemade strawberry jam. That tastes so good, that I could eat a whole bread at once. Last but not least the breakfast is accompanied with a whole can of fresh coffee or tea, without already lots of sugar put in it (one of my small annoyances in South America). Wow! Now this may sound like an ordinary ´go to bed´ and ´wake up call´ to you. But to me it is far from normal. It is a Walhalla. Everything somehow seems to match in this place, like a puzzle that fits all the pieces.

But again, relaxing is not what I came here to do. I have a different mission to accomplish. After all, my shaman is waiting for me in Mocoa. And so I am a happy person when I wake up three days later, knowing that tonight is ´The Night´. I say goodbye to my little dwarf home -that almost feels like it is mine by now- and to Paloma and some new made friends. I walk down the hill into town and buy exactly the things that the shaman told me to buy: two packages of candles for tonight’s ceremony and some fruit for tomorrow morning. I send an email to two of my best friends in Holland, asking them to inform and warn my parents and sister in case I haven’t sent them a sign of life in three days from now (and this probably means something went (very) wrong in the yage ceremony. U never know, do you? It is not for nothing that a woman died during an ayahuasca ceremony two week ago. In case this happens, at least a few people know that I have probably died and have some time to make sure that I don´t get buried in Mocoa. A morbide, but also practical thought. Luckily the feeling that dominates my thoughts is still one of curiosity and excitement, instead of fear and negativity. Shaman Luis, here I come!

After three hours in a collectivo, a shared taxi with five people in it, we reach the town of Mocoa, where the rain is falling out of the air as if it was a shower. Luckily I manage to succeed in finding a taxi driver that knows exactly where to find the house, since the directions that I have are quite vague. The moloca of shaman Luis, a traditional shaman residence where yage ceremonies are held., is located about ten kilometres from the city centre, where the streets have no names and the directions are drawn up by points of recognition instead of road signs. And indeed: the taxi driver does not only talk a lot, he also talks sense. Not more than fifteen minutes after getting in his taxi and driving outside town into nature, he stops at a wooden hut that is almost hidden by a huge jungle garden. Before I can ask if this is the moloca, shaman Luis already comes up to the road to fetch me and my bags.

In my head I have pictured the shaman as an old man with a long beard and a long rope on. In reality he is approximately 45 years old, has a short moustache and cheerful brown eyes. Instead of a long dress, he is wearing wide shorts with a T-shirt. He has been doing this work for 25 years and tries to make a living out of it, so that he can pay for the studies of his 22 year old daughter. Funny how stereo types can influence your image of people...

Ayahuasca rituals usually take place after sunset. Luckily however, it is still daylight by the time we arrive at the shaman and so I can see how beautiful this place really is. Mocoa is the capital of the province of Putumayo, but once outside of town, you are right in the middle of the jungle. The moloca of shaman is a huge open hut made of bamboo, with a very high ceiling that come to a point in one peak, like an original Indian Tipi does.

In the middle of the moloca stands a big sort of lamp, with a candle inside that is not lighted yet. The tradition says that it is either completely dark during the ceremony, or that the ceremony is lighted with candlelight only. Luckily in my case it seems to be the second scenario, so that I can at least see what is happening. A little bit further aside are a few mattresses, on which one man is sitting. His name is Adam and he is joining me in the yage ceremony it appears. Another man is standing in the middle of the moloca. He is Luis’ brother and is a shaman in training, from what I understand. The moloco is surrounded by jungle, containing plants and flowers in every colour and shape. Right from the moment I arrive, I feel at ease at this place. With the candlelight, the mattresses, the jungle around the moloca and the rain still falling from the air -creating some sort of mysterious atmosphere- it feels like the perfect location to have the yage ceremony.

After a bit of chit chat about yage and our reasons for being here tonight, the shaman asks us to rest a little bit. The ceremony won’t start before an hour or two; in the meantime even the shaman in training and Luis himself are cuddling up in their hammocks, located on the other side of the moloca. I take my fleece blanket, put on my most comfortable pants together with all jumpers that I can find, and chill out on my mattress in the jungle. In the background I hear the crickets making their noise and the dogs barking around the whole neighbourhood. No matter how hard I try to get comfortable, I don’t accomplish in sleeping. I am simply too excited for that. I feel like a little kid that has its birthday and is waiting in bed until mum and dad will come in the room to sing and bring presents. And that in the meantime needs to pretend to be sleeping, waiting for the parents to wake him up. In this case the parents are replaced by the shaman, and the kid is me. Waiting for the shaman to come and get me and start the ceremony. Which seems to last forever...

But then the shaman gets up, lights the candles, prepares some things and wakes us up with guitar music that he plays himself. Since every tribe has a style of its own to exercise the yage ceremony, the ritual of every shaman is different. Usually the ceremony contains some form of singing and dancing, which says to improve the effect of the ayahuasca drink. In this case, music is being played the whole night, by the shaman and the shaman in training. Beautiful music that seems to hypnotise and influence the whole atmosphere in the moloca. After finishing his preparations, we are ordered to stand in line to say prayers and thank God for the yage and its effects. After which all separate ingredients are sung at and are bewitched by feathers, music instruments and other attributes. Even though the energy in the moloca is good, I notice that I have never been so nervous in my life. By the time all ingredients are bewitched and the cup of yage is given to me by the shaman, I am almost fainting. I start sweating, my ears are singing, I am feeling nauseous and have an enormous headache. All before even taking the ayahuasca! All of a sudden things get dark before my eyes and I need to sit down to prevent fainting. Not too smart... Luckily I succeed in staying conscious, drink my yage and prevent from puking it all out right away. After that I lay down on my mattress straight away, to calm down my body and my mind. The last thing I should do right now is puke everything all out. So I try to focus on my breathing and inhale calm and deep. Which luckily seems to work, because ten minutes later I feel a lot better.

Which is nice, but seems to last a little bit too long. Wasn’t ayahuasca about feeling sick and puking up? By the time half an hour has past and the man next to me, Adam, has been puking for quite some time, I am still sitting there. Not feeling the slightest type of nausea; even after the shaman has executed some extra magic on top of my head to stimulate the working of the yage. Since I feel as fresh as a little chicken and sincerely enjoy the beautiful music, I start playing music together with the shaman.

In spite of the fact that this all creates good atmosphere, it is not what I imagined myself to be doing tonight. By now it has been two hours that I drank the yage en still feel nothing. No hallucinations, no nausea, no bad thoughts. Didn’t my friend Mark tell me he felt so bad that he almost wanted to die? That so many bad thoughts entered his mind, that he could not stand it any longer and asked the shaman to end that feeling? Instead of that I feel fine, enjoying the session but getting more and more impatient every minute now. Getting a bit worried that I am maybe immune for ayahuasca, something that is in fact possible. Though, it seems logical that the shaman himself does not have to throw up from taking yage anymore. And I’m not surprised that people that took LSD in the days before the ceremony feel nothing of taking yage. But I am no shaman and I don´t do acid and so I am waiting in excitement for some sort of hallucinations, nausea or negativity...

How much Ayahuasca you should take, depends on the conditions of the plant and the sensibility of the user. Every shaman has his own recipe, in which he can vary according to the desired effect. In this case maybe he gave me too little? But when I ask the shaman, he tells me that I just have to relax. It will come. And it does. After two hours of waiting, finally the yage starts working. I feel the drink literally flowing into my arms and legs. My limbs seem to be charged after that. This feeling is enhanced by the insects around me, that all of a sudden seem to make a completely different and much stronger sound. The buzz of the crickets is so intense that it feels like a constant electric power. That is combined with an enormous amount of nausea and enormous hallucinations. When I close my eyes, I see a huge pulp of crawling bees and swarming snakes, crocodiles and other animals, all in the harshest neon-colours. Most of them in neon yellow, the colour I dislike most. Coincidence?

Next to the neon yellow colour, there is only one other negative thing I encounter during my hallucinations. Within all hallucinations and crawling insects, I all of a suddenly get a very clear picture in my head. A picture of a situation that I never think about anymore and that I definitely rather not am reminded of. A picture that irrevocable tries to tell me that I need to change something in my life (and that I did change, by the way). Strangely enough, this is the only real negative experience during the whole night, though. Even after the hallucinations start, I don’t experience any negative thoughts, no feelings of wanting to die. In fact, I feel pretty happy the whole time. I have a big smile on my face while hallucinating and enjoy everything that is happening during this bizarre night. Like the fact that I’m laying here on my mattress, listening to the raindrops falling down. Enjoying the acts of the shaman, with his funny habits. And the beautiful strange sounds that he produces -together with his brother- on the self-made whistle, guitar and other music instruments. I enjoy the atmosphere, which is serene and pure. I enjoy the surroundings, plants and animals in the garden around the moloca, that are amazing and full of life. I even enjoy the puking behind my mattress in the bushes, with the raindrops falling on my head. While throwing up is normally a hard thing to do, now it goes smoother than ever and after that I feel fine again. After which I can (slightly) enjoy the hallucinations without feeling nauseous...

The fact that I don’t have any negative feelings is a good thing. But in the same regard it confuses me, since it doesn’t feel right. I should be feeling Awful with a capital A, right? Luckily the shaman reassures me, that it is quite common for extravert people to not feel any negativity while doing ayahuasca. While introvert people keep a lot of issues that are just not that easy to themselves, extravert people usually speak up their mind a little more. So that poisons don’t get the chance to grow into the mind, body and soul as much. Sometimes throwing up is just enough to get all the poisons out and clean the mind and soul. But it means you need to throw up a lot. After all, ayahuasca is a poison that needs to get out of the body, one way or the other. So I throw up. As if it is the average thing to do in someone else’s backyard. In order to start the next morning with a clean sheet and approach the world in a positive way.

After the first yage is worked out, the shaman comes up to me to serve me a second portion. This time it goes a lot better than the first time. Again it takes longer for the poison to start its work than with my ´roommate´ Adam, but after one hour the whole scenario with the electricity boosts, the crawling insects and the neon lights starts again. Cool! By now I sort of really enjoy the thing, like a movie playing in my head. Unfortunately after half an hour I need to go to the toilet to pee. Which I don’t want to do in the shamans background, since there is a normal toilet in the backyard itself. And so I have to stroll through the jungle during my most extreme hallucinations, trying to find this toilet. Since the whole garden is whole big blur of green colours and obstacles, this is not an easy thing to do. I do see a little light somewhere in the jungle, which must be the toilet. But how to get there is a different question.

After ten minutes of searching, waggling and walking in the wrong direction, I have finally reached the toilet. Which feels like a bad déjà-vu of that one scene in the movie ´Train spotting’ in which one Scottish bloke desperately needs to go. And only finds a toilet that is so revolting, you cannot even look at your television without disgust. Probably anyone who has seen the movie, knows what happens after that. I sort of feel the same way. I have to use the toilet for both peeing and puking at the same time, not a good thing. With my knees in something very wet (pee, I assume), and my head in the most disgusting toilet ever (or at least, that’s what it appears to be), I feel all of a sudden awful after all. And want leave the toilet and go back to my mattress as soon as possible. My hallucinations prevent this from happening. Trying to return to the moloca, I get lost in the garden. Where all plants seem to be huge trees and I cannot distinguish the difference between the grass and the bushes. It is one big blur of green flocks, one big fantasy paradise. With the only difference that it is not that comfortable in this paradise and I really would like to return to my mattress before getting sick again.

Since my knees are wet and I desperately want to change my pants in order to feel clean again, another challenge is waiting for me once I get to the moloca. Because how am I supposed to change my pants in this state of mind, without the shaman seeing anything? I still don’t know how, but I manage. So that, at least one hour after getting up to go to the toilet for a minute, I am finally back in bed with clean clothes on. And the old ones hanging in the bushes somewhere, waiting there for me to pick them up tomorrow morning, when my brain is working again and I can see things clear. Funny enough, the next morning it turns out that the toilet is the cleanest of all toilets you will ever encounter in the jungle. There is a little, natural waterfall behind the toilet, which makes sure that the floor of the toilet is wet, but more than clean. The toilet was in reality only forty meters away from the moloca. A few hours ago it seemed like kilometres.

During my toilet adventure, the shaman and his brother are still singing and playing instruments. Which goes on as long as I can remember. Most of the time my body is half asleep, while my brain is in some sort of a trance. Eventually also the shaman puts down his blanket, and falls asleep on the mattress next to me. Not before he makes some mysterious gesture on my head though, in order for all the bad things to go away ánd stay away. Believe it or not, I feel a lot better right away. Some things are just not to be explained...

We wake up only a few hours later, when it starts to get light and the animals around us wake us up. Luckily I feel fine, without being sick in my stomach. I still have a big smile on my face. While the shaman gets up at seven to make breakfast, I refrain from waking up completely. In order to enjoy my last moments here in silence, before normal life starts again and life together with a shaman is only just a memory.

I wash of all my thoughts under the cold little shower that is built in the garden as well. Feeling fresh & fruity again –needed after last nights escapades-, I am guided through the garden by the shaman. A garden full of a million type of flowers and dotted with different variations of the ayahuasca-plant, that all have their our quality and characteristics. For last nights session he used the male and female version of the serpent yage, which is supposed to give energy. Unfortunately I cannot say that I feel completely energised at this moment, but this may be due to the fact that I have hardly slept and I have nothing in my body to give me energy. We will see in a few days….

When I put on my watch, I realise all of a sudden that today’s date is March 11th. In one bang I am back in reality. And realise that tomorrow I have to be in Quito, since I promised a friend of me to meet up with him. Since Quito, Ecuador’s capital, is at least fifteen hours away from Mocoa and my collectivo to Pasto, the last big city in the south of Colombia on the way to Ecuador, is leaving at nine, I better go. After a small breakfast and some nice last conversations with shaman Luis, I say goodbye to him and his brother. I get into the taxi that got me here as well and almost cannot believe that this was only just yesterday afternoon!

Getting to Pasto is a six hour trip on a non-paved road. After which another three hour bus ride waits, to get me to a city at the border with Ecuador, Ipiali. Arranging the first ride goes smooth, the second one doesn’t. As usual, getting yourself a shared taxi is like a game that is played over and over again in this continent. A game that starts with running d to a car that is supposed to leave right away. After which the car turns out not to be full yet and does not move until it is filled up with people. And even then the game is not over, since the driver decides to raise the price and everybody has to pay an extra fee, in order for him to start driving. Which not everybody is willing to pay, and decides to get out of the car. After which the car is not complete again and has to wait another hour for a passenger to fill the car up. Playing this game normally is enough to get me annoyed. This time I stay reasonably calm; we will get there at some stage...With my I pod in my ears, beautiful landscape surrounding me, some nice local Colombian people accompanying me and collecting memories of last night in my mind, this day could be a lot worse. Shaman Luis already seems quite far away. But in my mind I keep going back to last night’s ceremony. And feel very happy, very blessed for being able to experience it.

Because of last day’s bad weather, the road to Ipiali -normally a two hour trip by car- is filled with rocks that have fallen of the cliff; blocking the road for traffic. Two rocks with the size of a car have even trashed a gasoline station we pass on the pay. After a three hour ride we finally reach Ipiali, the border town. After which I take another taxi to actually cross the border and get into Ecuador. Again, it rains when I cross the border, as well as the whole further road to Quito. Maybe a sign I should not have left Colombia? Saying goodbye to Colombia means saying goodbye to one of the most amazing countries in the world, full of beautiful cities, villages, nature, people and surprises... Entering Ecuador means closing the chapter of Colombia. And that is a hard thing to accept. But it also means entering a new chapter in my travels. And even in this weird state of mind, I actually still feel OK. And decide to not stay the night here, but to finish my trip to Quito tonight. Even after nine eleven hours of travelling today, I still have enough energy to conquer the world if I have to. Ecuador bring it on!

After taking a minivan from the Ecuadorian border to its first real town, I buy a ticket for the bus to Quito. Unfortunately, the bus to Quito just left the bus station and the next one is not leaving until two hours from now. Today is my lucky day though: the same man that sold me the ticket risks his life by driving me to the same bus with his own car, and makes sure that I succeed in getting on the bus to Quito after all. Maybe last night’s yage is still bringing on good vibes? On the bus I try to sleep as much as possible. Which is not an easy thing to do, considering the fact that –like in all of South America- it is freezing cold in the bus and the lady sitting next to me has her twelve year old son on her lap, out of lacking seats. Although Quito’s bus terminal is not the cosiest place in the world (nor the safest), I am a happy person when we finally arrive. We park on the shunting yard between hundreds of other buses. Besides me there is no one else in the bus anymore and the walk to the taxi stand is not exactly nice. But luckily it is short and the next taxi is willing to take me with him, even though he is already occupied. Even more important, he knows exactly where the hostel is where I want to go. Thank God…. Or thank Luis?

Half an hour later, when the clock strikes 2 a.m., I’m finally in bed. After two bus rides and four (shared) taxi rides to take me to my next bed. Maybe it was a bit much after last night. But I know one thing. I still feel good, in spite of the fact that I am tired to the bone. I enjoyed every bit of this day, even though some things were not going the way I wanted. The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that I feel better than normally. Or is it just my imagination? When I close my eyes, I still have a little smile on my face. How bizarre that I am in Quito now, and this morning I was still laying in shaman Luis´ moloca. But I guess that’s what travelling is all about. I close my thoughts and fall asleep. And dream about pulps of crocodiles. Bees. Worms. Snakes. Without getting nauseous. And everything in bright purple, my favourite colour.