June 2. Good old Paradoxes of Relativism and a hot volcano.

Relativism… the paradox has been forgotten. People don’t appear sensible to the idea that presicely because of the relativist phase we are in, a fertile soil for new Great Stories is being created. The relativism of the Last Stories presumes a linear concept of history, history being the meta-story and thus in contradiction to the believe that there are no longer Great Stories. It follows that an appropriate view of history would be periodical (ewige Wiederkehr des Gleichen) in a weaker sense: the recursion must not be eternal, and what recurs would be the similar, not the same. What remains is the idea of a recurring pattern of believes and societies. I am not claiming this is the true version of history. It is a version compatible with present-day relativism.
When we confront Hegel (or rather: Hegelianism) and its perfect system of synthesis, leading to the concepts of Absolute Spirit and the End of History, absolute reflexion (der absolute Geist der sich selbst betrachtet) how can we defend our skewed perspective? Aren’t we exposed to the compulsion of continuing logically to the next level, all the way up the ladder? Towards a Point where as much as possible is present, conscious? I think the key to an answer is the idea of forgetting. To defend our concept of history against a Hegelian perspective, to immunize it against the necessity to develop it into a bright blossoming Absolute System as it were, we elaborate on forgetting.
Forgetting: flushing the canals of history. The Geist over our heads can forget and does so with greater precision than we do. Forgetting is vital to him. It couldn’t surve as a superstructure with the complete memories of mankind. Why not? As it is vital for religious beliefs to erode, transform. The concept of an Absolute Spirit realizing itself through History has always been just an interpretation. Hegel’s way to proof his case is one of the greatest intellectual achievements of our times. He establishes a chain of necessities. As soon as we perceive of the world, we see the Hegelian inquirer/inquisitor asking us questions, we have to answer until we arrive at the Absolute Spirit. But the Hegelian inquirer is still a person. It’s a personal philosophy like the Christian God is a personal God.
We forget and we do forget essential things. Of course we cannot proof this point since what’s essential is determined by the perspective of the present. It’s a belief. –
History can forget essential things, too. Every epoch defines itself. What do I mean when I say history essentially entails forgetting? Forgetting is not a way to cut out dying tissue from the body of collective memory. It is a vital process affecting its very organs thus keeping it healty and semi-circular.

In the morning I can write in my gringo hostel “Jungle Party” and take a calory-loaded breakfast. I have a ticket to the active Pacaya volcano in the afternoon. Yes, an active volcano and a rather popular one since I meet a lot of people who hike this volcano. It’s the easiest volcano to climb in the region. And we get to see something! After a short busride, we start to walk up to where the lava is. Some local guys offering horserides come with us, but it’s an easy hike. We run down a slope with volcanic dust and climb towards the streaming lava over hot stones. It gets really warm now. I’m the only one with sandals but they don’t melt. The little daredevil inside me called and I approached the lava close enough to put my walking stick in it. It caught fire inmediately. Some guys roasted marshmellows; I roasted a coin as a souvenir. The guy taking a picture of me from some four meters distance says it’s too hot. Red hot lava rocks tumble towards where I’m sitting; it’s amazing. In Europe the volcano would be closed. Here, nobody cares how close you get to the lava. I really like it.

I go out with the Swiss girl who works here and we drink cheap Cuba libres in a place called “Kafka”. We share our travel experiences and plans in a good conversation.

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June 2. Good old Paradoxes of Relativism and a hot volcano.

Relativism… the paradox has been forgotten. People don’t appear sensible to the idea that presicely because of the relativist phase we are in, a fertile soil for new Great Stories is being created. The relativism of the Last Stories presumes a linear concept of history, history being the meta-story and thus in contradiction to the believe that there are no longer Great Stories. It follows that an appropriate view of history would be periodical (ewige Wiederkehr des Gleichen) in a weaker sense: the recursion must not be eternal, and what recurs would be the similar, not the same. What remains is the idea of a recurring pattern of believes and societies. I am not claiming this is the true version of history. It is a version compatible with present-day relativism.
When we confront Hegel (or rather: Hegelianism) and its perfect system of synthesis, leading to the concepts of Absolute Spirit and the End of History, absolute reflexion (der absolute Geist der sich selbst betrachtet) how can we defend our skewed perspective? Aren’t we exposed to the compulsion of continuing logically to the next level, all the way up the ladder? Towards a Point where as much as possible is present, conscious? I think the key to an answer is the idea of forgetting. To defend our concept of history against a Hegelian perspective, to immunize it against the necessity to develop it into a bright blossoming Absolute System as it were, we elaborate on forgetting.
Forgetting: flushing the canals of history. The Geist over our heads can forget and does so with greater precision than we do. Forgetting is vital to him. It couldn’t surve as a superstructure with the complete memories of mankind. Why not? As it is vital for religious beliefs to erode, transform. The concept of an Absolute Spirit realizing itself through History has always been just an interpretation. Hegel’s way to proof his case is one of the greatest intellectual achievements of our times. He establishes a chain of necessities. As soon as we perceive of the world, we see the Hegelian inquirer/inquisitor asking us questions, we have to answer until we arrive at the Absolute Spirit. But the Hegelian inquirer is still a person. It’s a personal philosophy like the Christian God is a personal God.
We forget and we do forget essential things. Of course we cannot proof this point since what’s essential is determined by the perspective of the present. It’s a belief. –
History can forget essential things, too. Every epoch defines itself. What do I mean when I say history essentially entails forgetting? Forgetting is not a way to cut out dying tissue from the body of collective memory. It is a vital process affecting its very organs thus keeping it healty and semi-circular.

In the morning I can write in my gringo hostel “Jungle Party” and take a calory-loaded breakfast. I have a ticket to the active Pacaya volcano in the afternoon. Yes, an active volcano and a rather popular one since I meet a lot of people who hike this volcano. It’s the easiest volcano to climb in the region. And we get to see something! After a short busride, we start to walk up to where the lava is. Some local guys offering horserides come with us, but it’s an easy hike. We run down a slope with volcanic dust and climb towards the streaming lava over hot stones. It gets really warm now. I’m the only one with sandals but they don’t melt. The little daredevil inside me called and I approached the lava close enough to put my walking stick in it. It caught fire inmediately. Some guys roasted marshmellows; I roasted a coin as a souvenir. The guy taking a picture of me from some four meters distance says it’s too hot. Red hot lava rocks tumble towards where I’m sitting; it’s amazing. In Europe the volcano would be closed. Here, nobody cares how close you get to the lava. I really like it.

I go out with the Swiss girl who works here and we drink cheap Cuba libres in a place called “Kafka”. We share our travel experiences and plans in a good conversation.

June 2. Good old Paradoxes of Relativism and a hot volcano.

Relativism… the paradox has been forgotten. People don’t appear sensible to the idea that presicely because of the relativist phase we are in, a fertile soil for new Great Stories is being created. The relativism of the Last Stories presumes a linear concept of history, history being the meta-story and thus in contradiction to the believe that there are no longer Great Stories. It follows that an appropriate view of history would be periodical (ewige Wiederkehr des Gleichen) in a weaker sense: the recursion must not be eternal, and what recurs would be the similar, not the same. What remains is the idea of a recurring pattern of believes and societies. I am not claiming this is the true version of history. It is a version compatible with present-day relativism.
When we confront Hegel (or rather: Hegelianism) and its perfect system of synthesis, leading to the concepts of Absolute Spirit and the End of History, absolute reflexion (der absolute Geist der sich selbst betrachtet) how can we defend our skewed perspective? Aren’t we exposed to the compulsion of continuing logically to the next level, all the way up the ladder? Towards a Point where as much as possible is present, conscious? I think the key to an answer is the idea of forgetting. To defend our concept of history against a Hegelian perspective, to immunize it against the necessity to develop it into a bright blossoming Absolute System as it were, we elaborate on forgetting.
Forgetting: flushing the canals of history. The Geist over our heads can forget and does so with greater precision than we do. Forgetting is vital to him. It couldn’t surve as a superstructure with the complete memories of mankind. Why not? As it is vital for religious beliefs to erode, transform. The concept of an Absolute Spirit realizing itself through History has always been just an interpretation. Hegel’s way to proof his case is one of the greatest intellectual achievements of our times. He establishes a chain of necessities. As soon as we perceive of the world, we see the Hegelian inquirer/inquisitor asking us questions, we have to answer until we arrive at the Absolute Spirit. But the Hegelian inquirer is still a person. It’s a personal philosophy like the Christian God is a personal God.
We forget and we do forget essential things. Of course we cannot proof this point since what’s essential is determined by the perspective of the present. It’s a belief. –
History can forget essential things, too. Every epoch defines itself. What do I mean when I say history essentially entails forgetting? Forgetting is not a way to cut out dying tissue from the body of collective memory. It is a vital process affecting its very organs thus keeping it healty and semi-circular.

In the morning I can write in my gringo hostel “Jungle Party” and take a calory-loaded breakfast. I have a ticket to the active Pacaya volcano in the afternoon. Yes, an active volcano and a rather popular one since I meet a lot of people who hike this volcano. It’s the easiest volcano to climb in the region. And we get to see something! After a short busride, we start to walk up to where the lava is. Some local guys offering horserides come with us, but it’s an easy hike. We run down a slope with volcanic dust and climb towards the streaming lava over hot stones. It gets really warm now. I’m the only one with sandals but they don’t melt. The little daredevil inside me called and I approached the lava close enough to put my walking stick in it. It caught fire inmediately. Some guys roasted marshmellows; I roasted a coin as a souvenir. The guy taking a picture of me from some four meters distance says it’s too hot. Red hot lava rocks tumble towards where I’m sitting; it’s amazing. In Europe the volcano would be closed. Here, nobody cares how close you get to the lava. I really like it.

I go out with the Swiss girl who works here and we drink cheap Cuba libres in a place called “Kafka”. We share our travel experiences and plans in a good conversation.

June 2. Good old Paradoxes of Relativism and a hot volcano. was originally published on Meandering home

March 10. Adventure.

Drop-out. Look at that dash! Drop-dash-out. It’s so beautiful. Almost a reason to drop out of the system. On the other hand, inside the system there are many beautiful dashes to, so it is not a logically valid reason. There is no syllogism with the minor premise “the dash in drop-out is beautiful”, the major premise “one should act upon words with beautiful dashes”, and the conclusion “one should drop out” because one could also act upon other words with beautiful dashes, such as rise-and-shine, live-a-normal-life, buy-plenty-of-car-insurance, become-a-member-of-the-rotary-club, etc. Why do people feel like a drop-out (officially spelled without the dash) when they do something they really like for some longer period of time? Did they drop out of a system that expects them to comply, to give in, to give up so they can be controlled by the system that promises to give at least something of it back to them? I don’t know. Making yourself dependent of a system that keeps all the candies you are gonna eat in your whole life somewhere safe and hands them out to you in regular, predictable intervals – this can be a comfortable way to cope with the parabolical curve of our lives. I close my eyes a bit not too much and I see people crushed by some kind of system. They seem to agree they always do of course they are part of the system. There are other people (that would be the “me”-character), who think they made it outside the system, and talk disdainful about everybody else. That is a stupid and intolerable stance. Every human being is part of some system, and he is an agglomeration of systems himself: “outside” is always an illusion that should be demystified by our ratio. It’s easier to accept yourself as being a “dropout” than to swallow you are fulfilling a parasitic, dirty, anonymous role in some system you don’t agree with. It’s a boring and simple mechanism. Reason has to drag everything inside, inside the Reich – thoughtful(!) reason should try to lure everything inside.

Before drifting off into philosophical speculations too much, I want to tell you about my day. It was a terrific one, one of those days you feel on the top of things. We got early in our hostel with the man in the other bunk bed that had been so loud at five am that he woke us up and I tied his shoelaces together as a goodbye. We decided to go rafting. So we arranged everything at some office in Pucon and decided to do the bajo for 8000$ ($ means peso in Chile; we paid the equivalent of 10€), with currents until category three. It turned out to be pretty tame, but it was great fun. We saw some beautiful birds and ducks around the river Trancura. A bunch of large black birds with white beaks (pardon my ornithological ignorance) seemed to be gathering on some rocks amidst the stream. I like the way the stood there, moveless and with their beaks pointed in different directions.
We were in the boat with some American freetime missionaries that had just built a church bricked it from the ground in four days. Four days! Not even six days and then one a day off as decent deities tend to do. They built it faster than god. The oldest guys were over 80. The loudest was a friendly Tennessee woman in her fifties. “Welcome to our bunch” she said. The over-eighties were in a different boat that took a safer course, but still, of our courage not much was demanded. The grey rafts were pumped up and we dragged them into the water. Our guide sat in the back and used a vocabulary of four words: forward, back, stop, and down. There was now left and right, no manoeuvring beyond do and don’t, no initiative beyond pulling forward and giving up.
The birds stood very still on their rocks and the wild water that splashed all over us – all over me because I was placed on the right side of the prow thus catching most of the water.
We were driven back into town, had a glass of refreshing “mote” (cereals in a sugary juice, not to be confused with “mate”) you are most probably going to drink yourself if you visit Chile, and went back to the activity agency to do canopy. Half an hour later, we were brought to an adventure park with great views of the three volcano’s Villarica, Lanin and Quetrupillán where they had hung a few kilometers of steel cables we were supposed to glide on. The thing is, those cables hung more than a hundred meters above the ground. I was a bit disinclined when the guys put on my straps and took us up the hill in a dusty SUV. Above, we were shown how it works: left hand on the straps, right hand behind you on the cable to use as a brake, legs stretched out in front of you. Sooner than we thought, we were flying over the valley – it felt just great! Admittedly, I conquered some little fears of height that day, and admittedly, that made me feel so expletively alive.

Being alive, and not being a vegetarian, I longed for a steak and I had one. A big chunk of red meat. Dinnertime: Mister Writer has his meal.

Our bus to Santiago de Chile left at 10pm – alas, it was going to be a very uncomfortable ride up north.

March 10. Adventure.

Drop-out. Look at that dash! Drop-dash-out. It’s so beautiful. Almost a reason to drop out of the system. On the other hand, inside the system there are many beautiful dashes to, so it is not a logically valid reason. There is no syllogism with the minor premise “the dash in drop-out is beautiful”, the major premise “one should act upon words with beautiful dashes”, and the conclusion “one should drop out” because one could also act upon other words with beautiful dashes, such as rise-and-shine, live-a-normal-life, buy-plenty-of-car-insurance, become-a-member-of-the-rotary-club, etc. Why do people feel like a drop-out (officially spelled without the dash) when they do something they really like for some longer period of time? Did they drop out of a system that expects them to comply, to give in, to give up so they can be controlled by the system that promises to give at least something of it back to them? I don’t know. Making yourself dependent of a system that keeps all the candies you are gonna eat in your whole life somewhere safe and hands them out to you in regular, predictable intervals – this can be a comfortable way to cope with the parabolical curve of our lives. I close my eyes a bit not too much and I see people crushed by some kind of system. They seem to agree they always do of course they are part of the system. There are other people (that would be the “me”-character), who think they made it outside the system, and talk disdainful about everybody else. That is a stupid and intolerable stance. Every human being is part of some system, and he is an agglomeration of systems himself: “outside” is always an illusion that should be demystified by our ratio. It’s easier to accept yourself as being a “dropout” than to swallow you are fulfilling a parasitic, dirty, anonymous role in some system you don’t agree with. It’s a boring and simple mechanism. Reason has to drag everything inside, inside the Reich – thoughtful(!) reason should try to lure everything inside.

Before drifting off into philosophical speculations too much, I want to tell you about my day. It was a terrific one, one of those days you feel on the top of things. We got early in our hostel with the man in the other bunk bed that had been so loud at five am that he woke us up and I tied his shoelaces together as a goodbye. We decided to go rafting. So we arranged everything at some office in Pucon and decided to do the bajo for 8000$ ($ means peso in Chile; we paid the equivalent of 10€), with currents until category three. It turned out to be pretty tame, but it was great fun. We saw some beautiful birds and ducks around the river Trancura. A bunch of large black birds with white beaks (pardon my ornithological ignorance) seemed to be gathering on some rocks amidst the stream. I like the way the stood there, moveless and with their beaks pointed in different directions.
We were in the boat with some American freetime missionaries that had just built a church bricked it from the ground in four days. Four days! Not even six days and then one a day off as decent deities tend to do. They built it faster than god. The oldest guys were over 80. The loudest was a friendly Tennessee woman in her fifties. “Welcome to our bunch” she said. The over-eighties were in a different boat that took a safer course, but still, of our courage not much was demanded. The grey rafts were pumped up and we dragged them into the water. Our guide sat in the back and used a vocabulary of four words: forward, back, stop, and down. There was now left and right, no manoeuvring beyond do and don’t, no initiative beyond pulling forward and giving up.
The birds stood very still on their rocks and the wild water that splashed all over us – all over me because I was placed on the right side of the prow thus catching most of the water.
We were driven back into town, had a glass of refreshing “mote” (cereals in a sugary juice, not to be confused with “mate”) you are most probably going to drink yourself if you visit Chile, and went back to the activity agency to do canopy. Half an hour later, we were brought to an adventure park with great views of the three volcano’s Villarica, Lanin and Quetrupillán where they had hung a few kilometers of steel cables we were supposed to glide on. The thing is, those cables hung more than a hundred meters above the ground. I was a bit disinclined when the guys put on my straps and took us up the hill in a dusty SUV. Above, we were shown how it works: left hand on the straps, right hand behind you on the cable to use as a brake, legs stretched out in front of you. Sooner than we thought, we were flying over the valley – it felt just great! Admittedly, I conquered some little fears of height that day, and admittedly, that made me feel so expletively alive.

Being alive, and not being a vegetarian, I longed for a steak and I had one. A big chunk of red meat. Dinnertime: Mister Writer has his meal.

Our bus to Santiago de Chile left at 10pm – alas, it was going to be a very uncomfortable ride up north.

March 10. Adventure.

Drop-out. Look at that dash! Drop-dash-out. It’s so beautiful. Almost a reason to drop out of the system. On the other hand, inside the system there are many beautiful dashes to, so it is not a logically valid reason. There is no syllogism with the minor premise “the dash in drop-out is beautiful”, the major premise “one should act upon words with beautiful dashes”, and the conclusion “one should drop out” because one could also act upon other words with beautiful dashes, such as rise-and-shine, live-a-normal-life, buy-plenty-of-car-insurance, become-a-member-of-the-rotary-club, etc. Why do people feel like a drop-out (officially spelled without the dash) when they do something they really like for some longer period of time? Did they drop out of a system that expects them to comply, to give in, to give up so they can be controlled by the system that promises to give at least something of it back to them? I don’t know. Making yourself dependent of a system that keeps all the candies you are gonna eat in your whole life somewhere safe and hands them out to you in regular, predictable intervals – this can be a comfortable way to cope with the parabolical curve of our lives. I close my eyes a bit not too much and I see people crushed by some kind of system. They seem to agree they always do of course they are part of the system. There are other people (that would be the “me”-character), who think they made it outside the system, and talk disdainful about everybody else. That is a stupid and intolerable stance. Every human being is part of some system, and he is an agglomeration of systems himself: “outside” is always an illusion that should be demystified by our ratio. It’s easier to accept yourself as being a “dropout” than to swallow you are fulfilling a parasitic, dirty, anonymous role in some system you don’t agree with. It’s a boring and simple mechanism. Reason has to drag everything inside, inside the Reich – thoughtful(!) reason should try to lure everything inside.

Before drifting off into philosophical speculations too much, I want to tell you about my day. It was a terrific one, one of those days you feel on the top of things. We got early in our hostel with the man in the other bunk bed that had been so loud at five am that he woke us up and I tied his shoelaces together as a goodbye. We decided to go rafting. So we arranged everything at some office in Pucon and decided to do the bajo for 8000$ ($ means peso in Chile; we paid the equivalent of 10€), with currents until category three. It turned out to be pretty tame, but it was great fun. We saw some beautiful birds and ducks around the river Trancura. A bunch of large black birds with white beaks (pardon my ornithological ignorance) seemed to be gathering on some rocks amidst the stream. I like the way the stood there, moveless and with their beaks pointed in different directions.
We were in the boat with some American freetime missionaries that had just built a church bricked it from the ground in four days. Four days! Not even six days and then one a day off as decent deities tend to do. They built it faster than god. The oldest guys were over 80. The loudest was a friendly Tennessee woman in her fifties. “Welcome to our bunch” she said. The over-eighties were in a different boat that took a safer course, but still, of our courage not much was demanded. The grey rafts were pumped up and we dragged them into the water. Our guide sat in the back and used a vocabulary of four words: forward, back, stop, and down. There was now left and right, no manoeuvring beyond do and don’t, no initiative beyond pulling forward and giving up.
The birds stood very still on their rocks and the wild water that splashed all over us – all over me because I was placed on the right side of the prow thus catching most of the water.
We were driven back into town, had a glass of refreshing “mote” (cereals in a sugary juice, not to be confused with “mate”) you are most probably going to drink yourself if you visit Chile, and went back to the activity agency to do canopy. Half an hour later, we were brought to an adventure park with great views of the three volcano’s Villarica, Lanin and Quetrupillán where they had hung a few kilometers of steel cables we were supposed to glide on. The thing is, those cables hung more than a hundred meters above the ground. I was a bit disinclined when the guys put on my straps and took us up the hill in a dusty SUV. Above, we were shown how it works: left hand on the straps, right hand behind you on the cable to use as a brake, legs stretched out in front of you. Sooner than we thought, we were flying over the valley – it felt just great! Admittedly, I conquered some little fears of height that day, and admittedly, that made me feel so expletively alive.

Being alive, and not being a vegetarian, I longed for a steak and I had one. A big chunk of red meat. Dinnertime: Mister Writer has his meal.

Our bus to Santiago de Chile left at 10pm – alas, it was going to be a very uncomfortable ride up north.

March 10. Adventure.

Drop-out. Look at that dash! Drop-dash-out. It’s so beautiful. Almost a reason to drop out of the system. On the other hand, inside the system there are many beautiful dashes to, so it is not a logically valid reason. There is no syllogism with the minor premise “the dash in drop-out is beautiful”, the major premise “one should act upon words with beautiful dashes”, and the conclusion “one should drop out” because one could also act upon other words with beautiful dashes, such as rise-and-shine, live-a-normal-life, buy-plenty-of-car-insurance, become-a-member-of-the-rotary-club, etc. Why do people feel like a drop-out (officially spelled without the dash) when they do something they really like for some longer period of time? Did they drop out of a system that expects them to comply, to give in, to give up so they can be controlled by the system that promises to give at least something of it back to them? I don’t know. Making yourself dependent of a system that keeps all the candies you are gonna eat in your whole life somewhere safe and hands them out to you in regular, predictable intervals – this can be a comfortable way to cope with the parabolical curve of our lives. I close my eyes a bit not too much and I see people crushed by some kind of system. They seem to agree they always do of course they are part of the system. There are other people (that would be the “me”-character), who think they made it outside the system, and talk disdainful about everybody else. That is a stupid and intolerable stance. Every human being is part of some system, and he is an agglomeration of systems himself: “outside” is always an illusion that should be demystified by our ratio. It’s easier to accept yourself as being a “dropout” than to swallow you are fulfilling a parasitic, dirty, anonymous role in some system you don’t agree with. It’s a boring and simple mechanism. Reason has to drag everything inside, inside the Reich – thoughtful(!) reason should try to lure everything inside.

Before drifting off into philosophical speculations too much, I want to tell you about my day. It was a terrific one, one of those days you feel on the top of things. We got early in our hostel with the man in the other bunk bed that had been so loud at five am that he woke us up and I tied his shoelaces together as a goodbye. We decided to go rafting. So we arranged everything at some office in Pucon and decided to do the bajo for 8000$ ($ means peso in Chile; we paid the equivalent of 10€), with currents until category three. It turned out to be pretty tame, but it was great fun. We saw some beautiful birds and ducks around the river Trancura. A bunch of large black birds with white beaks (pardon my ornithological ignorance) seemed to be gathering on some rocks amidst the stream. I like the way the stood there, moveless and with their beaks pointed in different directions.
We were in the boat with some American freetime missionaries that had just built a church bricked it from the ground in four days. Four days! Not even six days and then one a day off as decent deities tend to do. They built it faster than god. The oldest guys were over 80. The loudest was a friendly Tennessee woman in her fifties. “Welcome to our bunch” she said. The over-eighties were in a different boat that took a safer course, but still, of our courage not much was demanded. The grey rafts were pumped up and we dragged them into the water. Our guide sat in the back and used a vocabulary of four words: forward, back, stop, and down. There was now left and right, no manoeuvring beyond do and don’t, no initiative beyond pulling forward and giving up.
The birds stood very still on their rocks and the wild water that splashed all over us – all over me because I was placed on the right side of the prow thus catching most of the water.
We were driven back into town, had a glass of refreshing “mote” (cereals in a sugary juice, not to be confused with “mate”) you are most probably going to drink yourself if you visit Chile, and went back to the activity agency to do canopy. Half an hour later, we were brought to an adventure park with great views of the three volcano’s Villarica, Lanin and Quetrupillán where they had hung a few kilometers of steel cables we were supposed to glide on. The thing is, those cables hung more than a hundred meters above the ground. I was a bit disinclined when the guys put on my straps and took us up the hill in a dusty SUV. Above, we were shown how it works: left hand on the straps, right hand behind you on the cable to use as a brake, legs stretched out in front of you. Sooner than we thought, we were flying over the valley – it felt just great! Admittedly, I conquered some little fears of height that day, and admittedly, that made me feel so expletively alive.

Being alive, and not being a vegetarian, I longed for a steak and I had one. A big chunk of red meat. Dinnertime: Mister Writer has his meal.

Our bus to Santiago de Chile left at 10pm – alas, it was going to be a very uncomfortable ride up north.

March 10. Adventure. was originally published on Meandering home