more than a decade ago, when I said goodbye to Ayacucho for the first time, a rainbow appeared on the horizon of the old Huamanga.
Seeing I was sure that sooner or later, return to the city of nostalgia and sadness that was beginning to shake off the shadows of terror that stalked the streets and squares, in the last decades of the last century.
The hunch it would come true. Since then, I returned several times to this land of outstanding singers and guitarists of skilled craftsmen and skilled bakers who bake the chapla, the free bread crumbs or heart, just like "women Huamanca" as claimed strongly the voices of despair.
And in all those comings and goings Huamanca temples, the workshops of the artisans of Santa Ana and Bethlehem, for the glorious plains of Ayacucho and the streets forever silent Quinoa Village, the rainbow never reappear.
Last week, the paths they took me back to this Andean region. The sun, rain and fog accompany my steps and also streamers, dance and carnival cortamontes.
Party in the city and countryside in the valleys and the heights in the end, the land and even in the sky, pure content, color dressed in an evening of contrasts.
The night was approaching. Soleaba and raining on the road. Huamanga could not be far. Soon would be there, watching and enjoying the parade of booming, having traveled the always amazing archaeological complex of Wari.
But anxiety about the next arrival was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a perfect rainbow. Had to stop. Had to go down despite the rain.
The lens traveler Exploring could not be lost that moment that, like the first time, it seemed an omen of early and sustained return. And is that Ayacucho, rain or shine, always a good destination.
