Dreams came knocking on my door and once again I let them come in to my mind where there was a great space willing to take them in with the aim of working together in life projects, unknown traveling challenges, in which success can only be measured by true happiness and learning, where life is the path to take.
Being lucky enough, my dreams didn’t catch me by surprise. When they came knocking, I was already prepared and ready to go, like a scout boy anxiously looking for a trip. I was completely desiring to start approaching the unknown, with a bag full of wishes, willing to let myself be carried away to a new adventure. Without any doubt, I was looking forward to sitting down and writing on those empty pages of the book of destiny. Finally, my dreams came true, I set off to Bolivia, where the spirit of Pachamama* lays (Mother Land in quechua*).
Bolivia is an enigmatic country in the heart of South America. A place where you can see how the uncrossing Amazon, Green Valleys and Yungas converge up to the plateau. And it was up to there, the plateau, where my adventure took place. Through the old Inca paths that connected the main cities, across national parks, volcanic lagoons and rough rustic flatlands situated over 4.000 meters above sea level, even at some points reaching 5.000 meters. There, further than the limits of the land, I could encounter little indigenous communities, not bearing any type of change and surviving the tough weather conditions.
The plateau is composed by snowed volcanoes, moon-like scenery, peasants and king llamas, all strategically placed, as if it were a picture, making all of it some of an idyllic and beautiful place. This long photographic trip though old Inca paths helped me understand the true being of the Bolivian indigenous, hard workers, strong and resistant, made in tough and difficult areas, who demand labour and adaptation. A country full of color and magical but made of hardworking and resistant people.