There are 532 squares on the floor in my toilet (shower not included) and 200 tiles on the wall covering the same area. There are 3 types of insect grassing on the ceramic flatlands and they all seem very friendly. The showercurtain has 73 dots on it and hangs from 17 hooks. The door has three holes in it, and the water tank takes 5 minutes to fill up. The chain (counting 5 joints), that does the work of a lock, is not tight enough to close the door properly, leaving a small crack between door and wall. The door only fills 3/4 of the doorway. This is the uncovered and unleashed story of a backpackers best nightmare. Reading on requires poshness left at the door - there are passages of explicit language and vivid elaboration on delicate topics. You are hereby warned.

Waking up in the middle of the night, in the middle of the Andes, in the middle of a struggle to sleep, in the middle of a tent I hardly recognise and in the middle of several layers of clothes plus sleepingbag is normally not a major problem. Normally I would feel semi comfortable (since I was struggling sleeping, that adds the “semi” to the description), I would have felt safe and just enjoyed the sounds of the great outdoors. Feeling slightly comfortable in this situation, would make me a freak. I woke up in a pitch black tent, not even knowing who was sleeping next to me (as I went early to bed at night), I sort of knew where my shoes were, but that was about it. I had no idea of how to open the tent “doors” - I barely saw several patterns on the tent canvas, but I couldn’t clearly tell which one was the zipper and which one was not. I had no idea of where the start or the end of the zippers were. I had no idea of where I could find some light and I found myself seriously running out of time. Getting explosive diarrhea at 3200 meters above sealevel, where no plumbing and electricity exist, is not half as fun as it must sound. The frustration of not having the faintest idea of how to get out of the tent, without ruining the night for my tent buddy (whoevery that was), grew proportionally with the explosive forces in my stomach. Getting desperate by the minute, I finally had to accept the fact that I would not get out of the tent in mint condition. Apparently, this kind of sick behaviour from the body, happens in the worst kind of situations - in fancy restaurants with a unisex toilet with a long queue and all boots occupied by cocaine sniffers, on a public bus in a foreign country in an even more foreign city speaking a language you have no understanding of, at the opera or as it did for me: in freaking pitch black nowhere. There is one good thing, though, and that is when nature calls, nature will also get a reply. The reply could be left anywhere, and the beauty of it is, that there were so many places to leave it. My problem was that I couldn’t see more than 1 meter ahead of me, and everything else was just a big blur. After having the great idea of “you get what you deserve, nature”, nature gets the last laugh, and I have to struggle to find a spot that is outside the area of the camp site. My last few minutes awake at the campsite, went by looking at a tree in the middle of the campsite, hoping for the tent to be ready so I could go to sleep. I did not look around the area to see how it looked like, and the only thing I had noticed, was that we were camping at the banks of a big lake. The nightfall came a few minutes before we arrived and while I was sitting in my very own little world for a while it got dark enough to disorient me. Trying to locate the perimeter of the campsite, not knowing what to look for and an everlasting pressure in my stomach without a flashlight was a challenge. I suddenly stumbled over the perimeter - 60-70 cm high grass bushes which made walking impossible. I was glad I finally found it, but at the same time annoyed by the fact that I was falling down every step, and I knew I had to at least fall a couple of meters more into the bushes. The location I found was as perfect as it could get when you are in that kind of situation and in all of this hopelessness, I got a glimpse of one of the things I have been looking forward to: the night sky. Watching the stars from an unspoiled area makes you realise how small we really are. There are millions of stars up there, visible only because there are no light pollution. I noticed some quite powerful flashes several times, but not wearing my glasses made it had to figure out the cause of it. It was extraordinary, though - like a new years eve frozen in time, where all the firecrackers just stuck up in the air. The silhouette of the Andes makes the image even more dramatic and fantastic and I wanted to go back to set up my camera for some proper night photos. For a split second, while admiring the beauty of the same mother nature that mocked me earlier the same day, I forgot about the position I was in. Trousers down, the ass stuck up into a bush, holding on to another bush, getting tickled by a third bush hoping that what just happened a few minutes ago, was unreal. There are no laundromats in the Andes, and when you have to wash your clothes, you have to do it by hand - and especially when you only have one pair of trousers. Shitting myself at the age of 32 is actually a bit humiliating, but hopefully it will be good exercise for my old days and the exercise was to my knowledge, not witnessed by anyone.

Reflecting on these facts, I found myself in a situaion where I could get away with basically everything. I could get rid of the evidence in a jiffy and I could return to the comfort of my sleepingbag shortly. My motivation elevated as I started to strip of my clothes in the very same grass bush that tripped me several times entering it, but fell dramatically hard to the ground in the same second I realised how difficult it is, to balance on one foot, in pitch dark circumstances and at the same time trying not to let the underwear touch too many parts of your leg while taking them off. Just before I went to bed, I had to put on some warm clothes. We had been walking for 7 or 8 hours that day, and I was soaked in sweat, making the swap to dry clothes a mandatory thing to do. This meant that I was now wearing my boxers, long underwear, a pair of trousers and 2 pairs of socks on the lower part of my body, and long underwear, a t-shirt, a sweater and a fleece jacket on the upper part of my body. While trying to remove the clothes, balancing on one leg, trying to locate where I left the shoe I just stepped out of and at the same time realising that it wasn’t even my shoe, I started to notice the chill temperature. My initial plan seemed all right when I thought of it, but the cool temperature was not accounted for. I realised that I had to rush it, if I wanted to get through this and I rushed the last pieces of clothings off of me. Getting the layers of clothes of my legs finally succeeded and now I just had to head for water, so I could wash myself and my clothes. Easier said than done. Having a hard time trying to find the perimeter of the camp site, locating the water proved to be an even harder challenge. I knew that it was right next to the camp site, but the fact that I had to cope with a lot of grass bushes before I came to the shore made the journey challenging. Running halfnaked around in the Andes, stumbling over grass bushes, blindfolded by the night, with soiled trousers between my fingertips, stepping in two left-foot shoes (one of them the wrong size) searching for water is an experience I wont forget. I finally found the water, and for another split second I could enjoy the stars reflecting in the quiet surface of the lake. It seemed huge, and every little twinkle of every little star cast back on me, letting me know that “whatever I am going through right now, means nothing when all things are accounted for”. Beeing strangely reassured by the stars I finished washing myself and the trousers in the freezing glacier lake and stumbled towards the tent. I realised that I had exited the tent Houdini-style and now I had to enter it again the same way. Literally freezing my ass of by the chill wind and the low temperature of the glacier lake water, I know needed to enter the very same tent with the same speed I tried to leave it a very few minutes ago. I managed to get into the tent, location my sleeping bag, getting sort of comfortable and tried to fall asleep. I started to wonder about what could have caused this mad behaviour of my stomach, and went through the meals that I had the day before. I ate the same as other people at the hostel ate, I didn’t drink anything else than bottled stuff and the only thing that could have done this, was drinking the mountain water. I refilled my water container several times during the hike and I guess I had hit a bad source of water during one of these re-fills. I know that rapid moving water is supposed to be safe to drink, but apparently rapid is a relative term. Some germs must have outsmarted the rapidness of the water and found its way into my container. Sneaky bastards. Knowing that my sickness didn’t have anything to do with the altitude, I also hoped that it would be better in the morning. Little did I know, that this was the first trip of around 10 the same night and the only difference was that I didn’t have to wash my trousers anymore, cause I had no clean to wear. The only new thing I had to have in mind, was not to walk in the footsteps of my previous outings the same night. Another thing that started to worry me, was the fact that I was getting dehydrated. By the way - I managed to open the tent door properly at the end.

Almost getting no sleep at all, waking every minute realising that it was still night and hoping for the sun to rise made this the longest night I ever been through. I seemes like it just went on and on and on and on. I didn’t have a watch, so I had no idea of what time it was and I had the strangest dreams. The dreams were to surreal to remember, and even if I did, I would have a hard time trying to explain them. Everytime I went out, I had a glimpse of the stars and night sky in the Andes and I really wanted to set up my camera, but when you are in the condition I was in - sick and dehydrated, esthetics is not the first thing you want to dig into.

Night and day pops out from nowhere around equator. One minute it is daytime and in a splitsecond it is night. I was happy when I woke up and say the first traces of light outside the tent canvas. I felt kind of secure and couldn’t wait to get the guide to call for a helicopter to get me down. I didn’t care how whimpish that would make me. The fact that I had no energy, getting exhausted just by drinking water, I couldn’t imagine hiking back the very same path I came yesterday. Walking up is one thing, but walking down is even harder. When it was light enough to see other things than just shades, I told the guide how I felt and he said that this is not good. I asked if it would be possible to get a helicopter up here, and he said that there were no good helicopters or pilots in the city, so that was not an option. I didn’t want to ruin the trip for the other ones and asked for other alternatives to get down. He said that he could get an emergency resque team up in 3-4 hours and at that time, that seemed like the perfect option and I started to feel a bit optimistic. When he kind of nonchalant said “but that is not possible, because there are no reception for my cellular phone”, I realised that I had to hike down the same path I struggled with the day before. I also realised that I had to go down with the sherpa leaving the party of 3 to carry more gear. The sherpa helped me off with some of my weight, and I really was blown away by the strength of that guy. Literally jumping up and down the mountainside with a massive burden on his shoulders, not even displaying the slightest sign of beeing tired he is now my new found hero. Whenever I asked for a break, he stopped and watched me get my strength back, whenever I asked for food or how far it was to the next water supply, he reassured me accurately that it was not far away. I had to take a nap on the way down and he let me to that while he was doing his own power-mountain-yoga-workout routine and he was constantly aware of the mountain and the body working with the mountain. I could see, that this man was in love with the mountain and spoke of it with a real passion and not like the kind of “passion” most latino men have for women. When he said he loved the mountain, the sights, the nature and the challenge, I saw sparks from his eyes. When he pounded at his chest to signal that the mountains where in his heart, I could see and hear by the force of the pounding, that he means serious business. I guess he is that kind of a man, that lives and dies for the passion of his life. He was truly a fascinating man - but unfortunately I hardly understood what he said.

The trip down the mountainside was easier that I thought. It wasn’t as long as I thought, but some parts of it were exhausting. Before the descent, the guide offered me a third alternative: to give it a try and climb the scheduled 4 hours that day. I am glad I said “no” to that, because parts of going down meant short climbs and the climbs I encountered coming down almost made me not come down. I would have survived 10 minutes trying to climb the 4 hours and I was glad I made the correct decision. I had no choice, I had to get down. When nature calls, you respect it.

The crane had a hard time getting off the mountain and I am sorry to let you know, that it has been decapitated - it literally lost its head on the way down. This is the last picture of the great crane who lost his head in a difficult situation, where I only lost my pride and clean clothes. The bird is looking away from the point we should have arrived the second day: the valley in the upper right hand corner of the picture. Now the body will travel alone, like a chicken without its head and who knows … maybe someone finds it, and brings the head back to the rightful owner.

Getting back at the hostel, my condition did not change. Every intake of food or drink come out again as fast as it got in. The good thing here, though, is that I can comfortably sleep or rest in my bed, but the bad thing is, that it is not as easy to use water to wash of after every visit to the toilet. Using toiletpaper a couple of times every hour, hour and a half is not good for certaing parts of your body and I actually have found myself wishing to get back up in the mountains again.

Beeing semi comfortable while having a running belly, reflection is a natural part of is along with beeing sick and tired of looking at your own shit. I can’t stop thinking about where all this crap comes from. If I can drink litres and litres of water, and make my urine colorless - why won’t my backend start to produce some colorless material as well?? And why does everything I put into my body, beeing water or pasta or chips, come running out the same opening - and when I write running, I really mean running. It seems like my body has mixed up the meaning of the words fluid and solid. I am tired of running to the toiled the same second I feel the urge to pass wind and I am tired of the sensation of dry toiletpaper up my bum. I am tired of counting the same 532 squares on the floor and 200 tiles on the wall and I am tired of not beeing able to leave the hostel. This is a backpackers regular encounter with foreign (germ) cultures and everyone have had it at some point. Amongst other travellers, you can sit and talk about shit, the color, shape, smell and frequency without really think about what you are talking about, cause it is so normal and when breaking that taboo - hey, even the head of any country have had it. This is comforting, although it won’t make it go away. To do that, all you need is patience and beeing a hardass will help alot. Please send some aloe-vera moisted toiletpaper.