We didn't plan to visit Vilcabamba, it wasn't on our itinerary. The closest city we intended to see was Loja. But something has pulled us towards Vilcabamba, the valley of longevity.

We can't recall what made us decide in a glance to change the itinerary and make an one-day detour. Was it destiny? I couldn't tell. Maybe it was just meant to be. Maybe we had to go there and understand that there is much more going on than what meets the eye.

On our mind, Vilcabamba was just a small village in the middle of nowhere with expensive prices where the "hippies" and were living a sort of in their own fantasy world. Little we knew about the bond and the kindness of these people or the locals.

We arrived there on a warm sunny Saturday afternoon, checked-in at the hostal and went out to discover the village. As any South American village there was a church and a square centre where people use to hang out, small little tiendas and restaurants with local food and not only.

The mix between adobe and wood houses with inner courtyards, reminiscent of Republican era, and the newer villas made out from cement, concrete or even brick gave an unique charm to the village. Most of the buildings had one or two stories, the latter still unfinished. The tiled roofs of old houses had a layer of moss as well as flowers growing on it.

Unlike most of the northern sierra we've seen, there in Azuay province, in the southern sierra the vegetation was greener, despite the three months drought. Yes, the streets were dusty, but only the unpaved ones.

After gazing at El Mondango, the highest peak overlooking the city, taking several shots of the church and erring aimlessly around the village for one-two hours, we felt tired and hungry. We had dinner in one of the local restaurants. On our way back to the hostal we saw a street vendor with his cart selling choclo con queso (grilled corn seasoned with sour cheese and mayo) and churrasco (barbecued meat on a stick). My partner, although he just had eaten, could not help himself and had one of each. I opted only for the choclo, being scared of eating meat from the street.

On our way back to the hostal, we stayed outside late watching the stars and feeling happy for this little worriless romance time. We had no idea that all this serendipity will be ended shortly. Couple of hours later, he woke up with serious abdominal pain, high fever, incredible dehydration. Usually his tolerance to pain was high, but that moment he seemed he was about to reach his limits.

What are you supposed to do in such a case? Go to ER, that was my first thought. But, wait! We were in a foreign country, in a small village in the middle of nowhere. What was I thinking??? There was no ER here. Next! What else? Find a doctor and have him checked. But where finding a doctor on a Sunday morning at 6am? I was starting to worry and panic.

What if there is something wrong with him? What if something happens to him before I find a doctor to see him? What if he needs surgery? We were in the middle of nowhere, in some forgotten small village in the Andes, close to the border with Peru. Perfect place to be in need of an E.R.! So many what ifs that I could not answer. My mind was trying to create a safety plan like the ones you are instructed to follow in an emergency situation, like evacuating a building when the fire alarm starts on.

After a short chat with the owner of the hostal' a French guy, and having him inquiring his Ecuadorian staff, I found out there was a doctor that we could see in town. The only problem was that we needed to find out where exactly she was consulting the patients. I have been told that this volunteering doctor was coming from Loja (which was almost 40km away) to see patients in Vilcabamba and she was to be found at one of the central pharmacies.

Therefore, we headed by car towards the central square since my buddy's pain was increasing and he was not capable of walking. After checking two three pharmacies I managed to find the address of the doctor's office, while my buddy was laying in the car, on the drivers' seat, falling prey to his pain.

With one last effort, he managed to drive couple of streets up, to the doctor's office. To our surprise, there was nobody there, it was closed. Above the entrance there was a banner advertising two doctors and with their phone numbers. I called the doctor whose name I have been told and on the other end of the call I heard a woman's voice telling me they open at nine o'clock. I watched my watch: it was quarter to nine. Fifteen more minutes and she would be there.

I was hoping that she would make it there on time, and that I would not be reminded about the South American notion of time. I took a look at my buddy: his seat was down, his eyes were closed, he seemed sleeping. Only the sudden groans of pain and his grimaces betrayed his excruciating pain.

To be continued...

Thank you for coming along!

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