Welcome to the jungle

It starts as a nice Sunday afternoon hike. You get to know the group and a light chit chat about origins kills time.
Three hours later.
After the first climb your clothes are soaked from your own sweat. Trying to not step into puddles seems as a pointless task as using deodorant. You walk one after the other through a thick wall of plants. The Green from the jungle replaces the Blue of the sky. It is omnipresent. You smell the trees, the creeks, the animals as it gets mixed with the odours of sweat. Your mosquitobites on your ankles look like out of a childs riddle picture book. If you connect the red dots you see the giraffe. The sun disappears. Why is this place called rainforest again? Oh, yes you remember. Now it is pouring down rain. The rocks you jump on are slippery and you hope you won’t wreck your mosquitobit ankles. The only reason you know where the path is, is because the water is turning it into a creek. So you walk in the creek, rather then anywhere else. You jump from one side to the other- As your landing foot slips away in the mud you hope that there are no rocks in the puddle behind you. Falling right into it seems like happening in slow motion and you find yourself lying on your back like a flipped beetle, covered in mud and water. You get up and keep on walking. The fact that some years earlier a whole group of hikers were kidnapped here by paramilitaries can’t cheer you up. On your way you pass little huts and villages of Kogi Indians, who live here in their tribals ways since centuries. At a higher altitude the scenerey is breathtaking.
At night you get food and before you fall asleep in your hammock, you hear a Russian lullaby, passionately sung by one of your fellow hiking mates, accompanied by the millions of birds, frogs, snakes, insects and hell knows what else, which try to attract females by letting the jungle sound aloud. It sounds like a choir and it’s only purpose is to get laid. 5 minutes later you hear a strange sound, which confirms, that the Russian guy was successful.
Wake up. Wake up. What?! Why wake up?! You didn’t sleep yet! What is going on? A glimpse at your watch tells you that you just slept 7 hours completely dreamless. Your kidneys hurt as you lost half of your blanket when rolling over. Luckily you managed to stay in the hammock. Packing up and getting ready for the hike. You know, what clothes you will wear today- yes- the same as yesterday. And don’t think they got dry during the night. At 5 in morning, the cold morning air surrounds you. You take on your wet, cold pants, socks and shirt. Goose skin. Immediately you are in your smell sphere again. Back on the track. Ten minutes later you find yourself wading through a river, the current pushes hard and the water is up your belly. Needless to mention that this was the first of nine river crossings that day. Nobody bothers to take off shoes or clothes anymore when getting in the water. Everything is soaked and dirty anyway. In the afternoon you find yourself on the first step of 1600 stone steps, that take you somewhere uphill. One step after the other. Another stone, another step. In the heat of the jungle- the humidity is causing you to sweat so much that you didn’t pee in ages. It’s exhausting. The backpack is cutting your shoulders. Your heart beats up your throat. Another step, another stone. Your legs hate you as much as you hate them. Anger arises from inside. You will not take a break. You will not drink water. You keep on till the end. COME ON! GO, GO. This is not some ancient stone construction. This is the freaking stairway to heaven! Another stone, another step- The sun breaks through the green jungle roof. Then you see the destination of the track. The “Ciudad Perdida”. The “Lost City”.
3 days later you are back to civilisation. After a total of 5 days in the jungle you sit with your fellow hikers at a restaurant and have some victory beers. Everybody agrees:
“The “Lost City” wasn’t that impressive- but the hike was fantastic.”