Una buena Aventura/ A severe bout of Israeli-itis

So I arrived in Huaraz, a town nestled in the Cordillera Blancas, with a woozy head and some straining lungs though tis only 3052m high. The next day, my acclimatising/lazy day consisted of tasty food and a mad panic to try and arrange the 4 day Santa Cruz trek for the next day. An 'Ulrike and Knut' had advertised in the hostel for companions for that very trek but sounding like a couple and ever so German, I thought a bigger group might be more fun. I found a company who had a German (undisclosed gender), a French lad and two Israeli sisters going the next day. Even though I was a little wary of the the two Israelis, because of their bad reputations as travellers, I thought I´d risk it. Dear god, that´s the last time I risk anything involving Israelis.

I got up at the crack o´ dawn, had a double porridge breakfast and headed down to the agency with me little backpack and a rubbish bag full of useful waterproof things for the donkeys to carry. I met the two Israeli sisters and the guide and then met another two Israeli girls. Yes, the German and French people turned out to be Israelis. So rather than a vaguely multicultural group, I had 4 moaning whiney idiot Israeli girls.

After sulking for two hours on the bus, I decided there was feck all that I could do about it and decided it was a wonderful opportunity to learn about a culture I knew little about, pfffffff, yeh right - I knew they´d be idiots (a group of 4 of all one nationality are bound to be), but I was determined to have a good time. I tried my hardest for 2 solid days to make conversation with these girls. And even though they all spoke almost flawless English, every conversation I started, was interrupted by one of the other girls and then continued in Hebrew. I spent three nights in the cooking tent with them, eating the unusual dinners, lovingly prepared by Juan the guide, and Jose the donkey driver, and being totally excluded from their conversation. Goddam rude feckers; I´d like to put each of them separately on a 4 day trek with 4 non-Hebrew, non-English speaking folk (I can´t think of any obnoxious nationality to insert here). Juan was lovely, though not hugely talkative and Jose seemed nice enough too, though there was a wee bit of a language barrier.

But the hike was unbelieveable. I´ve never done more than a 2 day trek and I was quite nervous after 10 months of faffing about with no exercise, that a 50km trek at high altitudes with my rather muscleless body, might be a problem. But nah, it was grand. Hard, but goddam amazing. Every day the view was more stunning than the day before. There was beautiful perfectly shaped mountains topped with snow, powder blue glacial lakes, meadows with horses galloping about and waterfalls all over the place.

I had a little one man tent all to myself (thank goodness) where each night I donned the following: 3 pairs of socks, two pairs of trousers, two thermal layers, two fleeces, a snowboarding jacket, the mandatory silly peruvian hat and pair of wollen gloves. But even with all that, the minus 5 degrees always froze the ass off me. But waking up with a splendid snow capped mountain or waterfall as a view, was definitely worth it. Next time, I´ll bring a Swiss boy to keep me warm.

I think the highlight was on day 3 after a two and a half hour ridiculously steep ascent to the pass where I sat at 4750 metres looking from one valley to the next and thinking how lucky I was. My thoughts of luckiness turned to annoyance as the 4 girls nattered loudly in Hebrew and were joined by another 3 israelis coming up the pass in the other direction also nattering in Hebrew. I´d had goodam enough Hebrew to last me a lifetime, so I climbed to a higher point, found myself a comfy rock out of Hebrew earshot and lay in the sun taking in the view and eating a valued packet of skittles which I´d be saving for a special occassion such as this. Though I had to question who thought grape was a good flavour for skittles - I put the grape ones back in the packet and kept them for if I got stranded alone.

I have to admit one of the girls was lovely and did attempt to converse with me more than the others. But after 4 days of walking and thinking, and walking and making up nicknames for them all, and walking and childishly hoping the one girl I liked least fell in the mud, I thought best to say something to them. So when we arrived back at the town, I told the sisters exactly what I thought of them and exactly how goddam rude they were. I think they got the message. Four days of fuming made me quite articulate.

I can´t wait to do my next trek; it´s fecking marvellous walking in amazing scenery just thinking about everything and nothing and annoying companions. Though next time, I´ll be certain to check the nationality and gender of all people on a tour before signing up and I´ll be certain not to walk in donkey poo, even if it looks very dry and there´s nowhere else to walk.

Disclaimer: When I refer to the Israelis in this post, it only refers to the 4 obnoxious feckers(ok, one was nice) that I had the displeasure of spending 4 days with. Oh, and maybe the 3 other loud and rude ones who invaded my dorm room this morning, interrupted my very deserved sleep in, and ousted me from my room.

End of rant.