My Trip to Nazca Plains 93By now the noon sunshine was hot and strong. We
both felt the need for a break. Three miles before the city
limits of Acaya, slightly off the main road, a bridge led to
the old central highway on the opposite side of the
Mantaro River. Not far from the bridge was an old
house, almost in ruins. We parked the bike and walked
about a hundred feet further to a subterraneal passage
that led directly into an underground cave where the
water emerged in warm springs, bubbling up from
beneath the river. It was a beautiful natural spa where
the clean, clear water appeared to actually boil because of
the intense carbonation.
As we reached the water's edge, I said to Rama, "I feel
badly about the things I said. But this whole thing is so
unbelievable, I guess I got kind of hostile. Forgive me for
saying those things I did when we were on the bike. The
one consolation is you've provided me with a good start
towards mental communication."
"Don't feel too bad, Chacho," she said gently. "I know
how you feel. I'd like you to do something for me. Go
into the water for a couple of minutes. Dig deeply into
your thoughts. What I'm about to tell you requires a lot
of recalling."
As we prepared to get into the water, Rama said,
"Throughout your schooling, you must have had some
pretty fantastic teachers whom you could hardly wait to
see in your next class .... "
"I can name a few without going into any deep
recollection: Richard Smith, Psychology 305, University
of Northbridge, California; Carmelo Gariano, Carlos
Blanco Gonzales, Iris Shah, my swimming and diving
instructor. I guess there are more, if I really gave it some
thought. What's the point?"
"Would you have insulted Iris Shah by telling her she
wa s a phony? Or would you have told Richard Smith you
thought he was neurotic? Or hurt the feelings of Carlos