AN ANSWER?

The long walk in nature has totally changed Joe's perspective on that trapped desperation he was feeling in the Otavalo market, as he continues to make observations.

I amble contentedly back to my hostel - and just crash. It’s the deepest slumber I can remember in… well, maybe forever. As I finally do wake up, I feel like I’m in a whole different head.
Happy.
Charged.
I mean, could this be - The Answer?
What I’ve been searching for ever since I can remember? That maybe it has nothing to do with actually achieving something - striving mightily - and being so attached to those results? With just being? I don’t know, man.
As I’m eating my breakfast, I’m all geared up with thoughts of journeying into the paramo today, checking out the three lagoons that reside in the shadows of the dark jagged mountains. This probably sounds super corny, but in a way, I feel like I’m receiving some kind of blessing from the universe. No heaviness (which is my M.O.) like when my mind is out of control, pirouetting from one anxiety provoking scenario to another. No harried worries about wasting time.
This is so great!
A couple hours more, and I’m instinctively drawn to this tree stump in an incredibly lush clearing. I give into my growing hunger, pull out this cheese sandwich that I’ve stowed away in my backpack, and begin munching peacefully. I watch this indigenous family hiking past me - laughing, joking, holding each other’s hands… you can tell just by the expression on their faces how much they genuinely enjoy each other’s company.
Kinda touching, y'know?
I smile at them and go back to my food.
A few minutes later, and now some indigenous couples stroll by me. They say hello, but that’s about it. I’m thinking that you can never really know them, the indigenous - especially the women.
Yeah.
They seem to be really clannish, man. Completely secular. Reminds me of the Orthodox Jews in New York, or especially, the Indian women (the ones from India) there - who only ever fraternize within their own groups. I mean they won’t ever even make eye contact with a guy who’s not Indian! And some of them are pretty cute, too… but, I mean, it’s a closed society, y’know?
That’s what I think about these indigenous women, too, man.
No eye contact.
No smile.
Nothing.
For some reason, this really bugs me - which is kinda weird since I don’t even find most of them actually attractive. Maybe it’s just that they’re part of a group, a culture that I can never be a part of? Could be. I’m contemplating this for a moment, when out of nowhere, this dark- but familiar sensation enshrouds me.
Uh oh. Not again.
Separate.
Floating.
The ensuing explosion in my solar plexus which follows always occurs when I don’t know what I’m thinking - or I don’t consciously understand what I’m feeling. Then overwhelm. Just like that.
Snap.
I’m afflicted, man. I figure the best thing I can do is-just-keep-moving. I retreat back to my hostel, grab my stuff and check out. I shuffle down the road, not knowing what to do, when a camionetta comes rumbling by. A camionetta is basically a pick-up truck in which you hop into the back with a bunch of other people, and pay the driver when you hop off at your destination.
I decide on impulse just to hop in, and take it to this nearby indigenous town called Peguchi - which is famous for its Cascadas Peguchi. Cascadas means ‘waterfall’ in Spanish, and I gotta say, these cascadas are fuckin’ amazing!
Pristine.
I have this longing to dive right into the pool of crystal blue water at the bottom of the falls - but I don’t know how to dive. I mean, I could just jump in, y’know? Take the plunge. Cleanse myself of all this negativity. You wouldn’t die in this water - it’s just that it is so cold! Freezing, in fact.
It’s still kinda nippy out here, y’know?
Forget about it.
I make myself content with just sitting on this rock I am currently perched on, and continue to gaze at the pool. And wish. Night inevitably falls, so I decide to stay - and check into this pretty cool place - Hostal Aya Huma.
Beautiful garden, hammocks, fireplaces…
Nice.
The lady at the reception desk keeps trying to push the hostel’s activities on me - for an inflated price, of course. Organized hikes, horseback tours, bike rides, and so on. I don’t know, it strikes me as a brochure opportunity, y’know? Where you have all these happy smiling white faces jumping in mid-air next to a bunch of horses, or something.
Not a fan.
Too corny for me. Besides, I’m running really low on money now. This place is relaxing though, so I figure I’ll hang out in the garden, meditate, and chill in the hammocks. I meet some Germans (of course Germans), we have a few beers, a few laughs… a good time is had by all.
Three days later, I’m feeling rejuvenated and ready to move on again - so I take the short bus ride to this nearby town, Cotacachi, which is supposed to be famous for it’s leather goods and crafts. I stroll around the town for a while, passing by the leather craft shops and open markets - and a part of me is wary not to get caught up in another Otavalo type situation.