In my childhood particularly there was a period that considerably marked the course of the city, and it was the terrible period of drug trafficking that left as a consequence some injuries on our culture that still are not healed.
When I first started an actual backpacking trip around the South Island of New Zealand, I was completely clueless. I hardly met any other backpackers on the road…
The trek to the actual waterfall was another half an hour or so, climbing down difficult, slippery paths through jungle-ish territory. It was probably the coolest natural phenomenon I’ve seen since New Zealand (which is saying a lot).
For some strange reason, no bus would stop for me. Did my long skirt and backpack make me look homeless or something? A few trucks passed by honking their horns to offer me a ride, but I have yet to get rid of the warning that we hear in the US about hitchhiking – don’t do it or you will be murdered by a serial killer and left on the side of the road.