After my mountain summit victory, a party night in La Paz that finished at 7 in the morning, and two hours of sleep I set off to find a spot to relax for a few days. The chosen destination was Coroico, a hilltop town 3 hours away from the noise and chaos of La Paz. 

Resting in a tropical valley, the scenery is beautiful, offering vistas of lush green hills that seem to stretch for miles, and the slitthering snake that is the trace of the Death Road; it was the perfect location for my “sit in my hammock doing absolutely nothing” days. 

I choose “Jardines del Sol”, a cozy little hostel up in the jungle. Nothing but peace, sun, flowers and odd nature noises surrounded me for three days. After setting up my beloved hammock for the first time since my Amazonian boat adventures, and buying enough food to last me the time I was here, with excitement I began my break from civilization.

I had forgotten what it’s like doing nothing. And it is beautiful. I feel as though most travelers sometimes sense guilt about taking “days off”, as if they are wasting time not exploring all the touristic hotspots, until the thrill burns out and you start to become miserable and tired. I’ve learned that lesson over my on-and-off three years of traveling, and without hesitation took my “vacation” from vacation.

 During the day I don’t move from my hammock until it hits roughly 5pm, my favourite time for walking. Everything gets submerged in that warm, honey coloured sunlight. The sky above you is deep blue and the air seems to be filled with life and endless possibilities. I stroll further up the hill until I find a rock to sit down and admire the unabstracted view of the valley. Time for daydreaming and thinking about my own life, the choices and mistakes I have made that have taken me to where I am today. I’ve been doing alot of pondering during this trip actually, it’s odd. I keep finding myself asking questions, more so than getting answers. Guess spiritual epiphanies don’t come easily.

As the last rays dissappear and the day comes close to the end, I return back to my hammock. The smoke from my cigarrette merges with the same violet-blue evening undertones of the hills in the distance. You hear a choir of frogs, cicadas and other chirping insects, ocassionally interrupted by the barking of dogs and our power generator. The entirety of my surroundings reminds my of childhood summers, when I was young and didn’t have a care in the world. An opposite of what I am living now. Yet I wouldn’t change it for anything.


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