In a cozy little house in a small town, Eloy always eagerly awaits the arrival of his grandchildren. Every night, around a crackling fireplace and with a mischievous smile, he begins his stories by saying, “Did you know that when I was young, I built an ice castle in the Siberian tundra with the help of polar bears? But that’s not the story I want to tell you today. Today, I’m going to tell you about an adventure that really made me sweat: the search for the lost city of gold in the high mountains of the Incas.”
Eloy settled into his favorite armchair, adjusting his wide-brimmed hat that seemed to have a life of its own, and began his tale with excitement.
“Many, many years ago,” Eloy started, “when my hair was still black as coal and my muscles didn’t need warming up to lift a cup of tea, I decided to embark on one of the most dangerous and thrilling adventures of my life. I had heard rumors about a lost city of gold hidden in the high mountains of the Incas. I decided I would be the right man to find it.”
“At that time, the idea of good preparation was something I didn’t even know. I threw myself into the adventure with nothing but a wide-brimmed hat, some slightly worn boots, and a map that was more torn than a sandwich after a picnic in the countryside. The first part of my journey took me to a small village in the Andean valleys, where I met a group of Indigenous people who knew the land better than the back of their hands.”
Eloy paused, scratching his chin and looking at his grandchildren with a conspiratorial expression.
“They told me that to find the lost city, I had to overcome a series of trials. And what trials they were! First, I had to cross the ‘Whispering Bridge.’ This bridge, made of vines and branches, hung over an abyss so deep that the echoes of falling stones seemed to tell stories from a thousand years ago.”
Eloy leaned forward as if about to reveal a great secret.
“Of course, my first attempts to cross the bridge were… disastrous. I swung, I swayed, and almost became a natural history lesson on free fall. But, in the end, with a bit of cleverness and a lot of luck, I managed to cross the bridge with a grace that made me feel like I was dancing a waltz over the void.”
“Next, I faced the trial of the ‘Singing Fish River.’ This river was known to have fish that, if you believed the legends, sang sad ballads to the moon. And, to my surprise, they were pretty good at it! Somehow, the singing of the fish distracted me, and I almost got caught in the river's currents. But after a series of moves that would make any professional dancer blush, I managed to cross the river without ending up as a clay statue.”
Eloy laughed heartily as he recalled his misadventures.
“Finally, I arrived at the entrance to the sacred mountains of the Incas. Here, the final trial was to face the ‘Mist of Secrets.’ This mist was said to have the power to disorient any intruder, leaving them lost in their own mental maze. But, of course, when you’re searching for hidden treasure, things get tricky. However, with a little ingenuity and a compass that seemed to have a very peculiar sense of humor, I managed to move forward and reach the heart of the mountains.”
Eloy made a grand gesture with his hands as if revealing the secret of the universe.
“And so, at the end of my journey, I discovered something that wasn’t gold but was much more valuable: the true wealth of the stories and culture I had found along the way. The lost city of gold was actually a metaphor for the wisdom and knowledge hidden in every corner of the world.”
“So, dear grandchildren,” Eloy concluded, “the next time you encounter a challenge on your path, remember that sometimes what we’re really looking for is the adventure and learning that the journey offers us.”
“And so, dear grandchildren, this story ends. Now, off to bed! Tomorrow, I’ll tell you how I sailed with pirates in search of Blackbeard’s lost treasure. Goodnight and sweet dreams.”