My cenote jumping

I am currently in Mexico on the Yucatan Peninsula. One fine day, I decided to go to a cenote, an underground river or well. I walked along a forest path almost overgrown with vines and other plants. There were no birds singing, no monkeys howling. I felt completely alone. The silence clung to me eerily like a wet blanket, seeming to suffocate me. Then I realized that all of that silence was just in my head. I heard the monkeys screaming and the birds tweeting. I reached the edge of the huge hole that led down to the cenote. I could see the water 70 feet below me, seeming to glow. Suddenly, I heard a "Huoo hoo hueey!", a thud and a thump. I looked behind me and saw Hojung lying at the base of a tree, looking dazed. He got to his feet unsteadily, laughing a little bit insanely. Then he began to stumble toward me, still laughing. I moved out of the way and he walked right into the hole.

These blogs have helped me synthesize information because I get a chance to learn about the topic, then I can write about it which drives the information into my head.

I Discover the Secret of the Mystery Lines

Forty years in the Peruvian desert and I have finally found out how the lines were made. I have died, but then someone reincarnated me and I have had even more time to think.

Travels in Latin America

I was flying into Cuzco, Peru over the Andes when our plane went through a cloud and, not seeing it coming, hit a glancing blow on a mountain, tearing off a wing. Our plane went spinning wildly through the air and came crashing down upside down twenty feet below in a huge snowbank at the edge of a cliff. When the dust cleared, I found myself hanging upside down from my seat belt, looking down at the ceiling. I blinked. Just then my seat belt ripped and I fell to the ceiling. I wasn't hurt, luckily. I sat up and heard groans from all around me. I stood up. the plane began to tip dangerously. I sat back down. I looked to my window. Luckily, it had shattered when we crashed. I carefully squeezed out of the window and onto the snowbank. The wind tugged at my ripped jacket as I stood up in the snow. A bit of goose down fluttered from one of its tears and disappeared in the swirling snow. I crawled back toward the plane, but instead of reentering, I crawled around it and looked over the cliff. I could see Machu Picchu in the distance, so close but so far away. I looked down over the cliff. there was a snowbank, but it was 30 feet below me. I hit the snow next to me in frustration- my biggest mistake. A torrent of snow twice my size, disturbed by my fist, came barreling down off the snowbank, smashing into me and sending me tumbling off the cliff. I was so caught up in the snow that it didn't feel like much when I hit the snowbank. When I realized where I was, I began to thrash violently. Luckily, I was facing upright and my head burst out of the snow. I breathed in deeply the cool, fresh air. I whipped out my cell phone and took a picture of the cliff I had just fallen off of and the tattered airplane. I clambered out onto the snowbank and stood up. I sunk waist deep in the snow. Suddenly, a small orange backpack fell to the ground beside me: a parachute. I looked up, and yelled in alarm. A second, this time, orange avalanche came cascading from the airplane on my head. Soon, I had dug myself out of this "parachute drift" and selected a parachute. Then I began to run toward Machu Picchu.