Ad Tanquerey
Dogmas generators piety, Paris-Tournai-Rome, 4th ed., 1931, p. 137
is an easy model to emulate, at least in the sense that Mary was sanctified in common life, in the discharge of his duties as a young girl and mother in the poor housekeeping in the hidden life, in joy and in sorrow, in exaltation as in deepest humiliation.
Bible - Old Testament
Isaiah 43, 1
And now, thus says Yahweh who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Fear not , for I have redeemed thee, I have called you by name, you are mine!
Benedict XVI Homily, December 2, 2006 (First Vespers of Advent)
At the beginning of a new annual cycle, the liturgy invites the Church to renew its announcement to all nations and sums it up in two words: "God comes." If this expression contains a synthetic power of suggestion always new. Let us pause to reflect: it does not use the past - God has come - or the future - God will come - but this: "God comes." It is, on balance, a continuous present, that is to say an action is always in progress: it took place, it takes place and it will happen again. At every moment, "God comes." The verb "to come" appears here as a theological verb, indeed theological "because it tells us something about the nature of God. Proclaiming that "God comes" is equivalent, therefore, simply announcing God himself, through one of his essential and qualifying characteristics: being the God-who-comes.
Advent calls believers to become aware of this truth and act accordingly. It sounds like a salutary appeal in the succession of days, weeks, months: Wake up! Remember that God comes! Not yesterday, not tomorrow, but today, now! The one true God, "the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob" is not a God who is in heaven, not interested in us or our history, but it is the God -who-comes. He is a Father who never stops thinking of us and, with extreme respect for our freedom, desires to meet us and visit us and he wants to come, stay with us, stay with us. His "coming" is motivated by the desire to free us from evil and death, everything that prevents our true happiness. God comes to save us .
Bible - Old Testament
Isaiah 40, 28-31
Do not you know, have not you heard? Yahweh is the everlasting God, who created the ends of the earth, who never gets tired nor weary, and whose wisdom is unfathomable.
He gives strength to the weary and doubles the strength of one who fails.
Young people get tired and weary, and young men stumble.
But those who trust in the Lord shall renew their strength, they will raise their wings as eagles they shall run and not be weary
point, they will walk and not grow weary point.
New Life, New World ... 
Adventure affects more than ever to an end but the magic continues each day ... And time is wonderful despite the approaching winter, ideal for camping. So I found this little camping SITE WELCOMES had my first night away. I felt the same kind of vertigo that experienced on this patch of grass that is 9 months. But this time was watching the progress and calmer than the first time and I remember doubting arriving after this trip, alone on this remote continent, suddenly realizing what it is have nine months ahead. 
Rest a few days I will certainly not spoil while waiting for the plane, I proceeded to Santiago, where I found Pablo bump in the subway. In addition to a good visit, I am entitled to one of his evenings in small family that I loved so much during this trip. I keep the minutes of the visit Metro and PCC for some stakeholders. I pass by Valparaiso that I found in sleeping beauty, numbed by an early winter, however, rather mild. The docks are empty door containers, cranes and the streets still seem to me very calm. But it's still the same powerful and magnetic charm that emanates from this city in any hills. Port night, she is full of life, even in the abscence of crew rest. I attended the other night at a jazz concert unforgettable, a copper line and a powerful bass more creative than in a bar in charming port. I take this, go around and fill you one last time to the unique atmosphere that reigns here. 
My Southern short nights are now very far, it's dark around 18 hours here in Cusco and it was thought at the end the world in a city whose name is a dream ... Take a bus early Saturday soiré keep this sad side to perfection. Neon mini bus bringballant gives everyone pallid complexions, we're constantly jostled by potholes. And here I am only three weeks after company, Claire and Matthew are en route to Lima. 
The trek to Choquequirao, although frankly sports worth it, we arrived after a morning walk well on the site where we were only 5 guests. While certainly not worth the ruins of Machu Picchu but those such calm and knowing that there is under our feet again 55% of the site clearing creates a particular emotion. Walking on paths cleared and just know that 2 meters beside, this vegetation is probably impenetrable walls supporting deck or entire buildings, and the thrill of the archaeologist in full discovery crosses your back. And then the Incas did not choosed the sites at random, again the scenery around us was breathtaking, waterfalls gigantic cayon unfathomable, snowy mountain range ... And Choquequirao is the unforgettable memory of the nap in the grass amid the ruins and in the shadow of this little tree, not a sound for an hour, it is really far from Machu. 
Then we leave Cachora small village in the Cordillera, wonderful simplicity and authenticity - it changes from Cuzco - after a nice ride on horseback at the time or disperse the fog, finally suggesting the snowy mountain range in glorious sunshine. 
arrived in late afternoon I drop the rather unique atmosphere of this small village before venturing into the desert in search of a place or camping ... good can not imagine my tent in the midst of gentle sand dunes for miles from any sign of life. Since my bivouac I still see the village and all that part of the desert seems to have been one day return Bulldozer in the hope of finding the precious saltpeter. 
My readers experts on the Inca civilization have obviously noticed and I'm sure they are many, so I correct an error which starting today should not have course in the blog of a history teacher's son. 
The pace changes again, a little faster but it's for a good cause, that it is 5 We leave Lima for three weeks in southern Peru. Fred, Alice, Matthew and Claire rejoind me to share the adventure. Here I am in good company, happy to find old friends and make me happy again. The first thing to discover new entrants are of course the inevitable hour bus ride, single loop solution for a busy schedule to be completed in three short weeks. It soars So for 14 hours because, fortunately cut by a nice break in Nazca and we enjoy a wonderful fried chicken that we digest (not without difficulty) in the soft evening air, sitting on the spot. 
The train runs on the board, but soon the ressere landscape around us, the mountains come closer and gradually we are alone with the stream, winding through the narrow valley. It now floats in the air a smell of mountain trail at the end of August, when the sun heat the crushed plants, trees, herbs and valleys and nature can finally breathe again, the days shorter, the nights longer, warmer temperatures allowed to breathe the wonderful scents that was hidden at the height of the summer, trying to escape the rampage of solar power. 
It still wake up with a story that begins this morning too memorable day. By the light of headlamps we climb in line Indian stone stairs in invaded vegetation. When that day dawns, the road stops and we are at the gates of the city after an hour's walk with his eyes half-closed. Even still half asleep the excitation is at its height, we eat breakfast overlooking the mountains and penetrate into the lost city, perched on a mountain unlikely amid a surreal setting. The site is just incredible and when the mind wanders, a veritable pageant which gets under way. The first men who thought this city, the first stone and the work of tailors, masons, gardeners, architects, farmers and the arrival of Lord Inca, Manco Kapac great with his court, his family, the celebrations in the sun, moon, sacrifices at the precise moment the last rays of sun, incredible festivals at the solstices and daily life, people coming and going, kids crying for the breast, bread oven that smokes in the morning, the joy of births, deaths, the cycle of life, races of the stars ... The emotion that overcame me when I sit in the grass at sunset, resting against the stone walls perfectly joined ... 
From sunrise to sunset so we walked the ruins and terraces, perched on Wayna Picchu, this rocky outcrop overlooking the Inca city and then came the last rays and the time to back down to earth and return to his day. 
Alice and Fred left yesterday and we leave tomorrow, Claire, Matthew and myself for another lost city of Choquequirao that! The journey is not finished! 
But yet what a beautiful road between La Paz and Lima, is first above this deep crater in the pit and on the edge of which extends to La Paz. The impressive view of the South American megalopolis, asphixiée by pollution, paralyzed by traffic jams but despite that saw ten times more than any European city I have ever visited. 
A border post later I'm back in Chile with a funny feeling to be back at home. I would stop near the border in a small village for a short hike, one last breath the air of the altiplano. My visit was very welcomed by the Lamas, Alpacas and their cousins vicuña among whom I walked and I enjoyed my night in the Parinacota small village, the small white houses clustered around their churches, trying to brave the cold polar entire reign on the altiplano as soon as the evening does the sun disappear in the distance below ... 
Peru I attack from the south on a train bringueballant who snorts on a bumpy road amid a virtual desert sand, bordered by the Pacific in the distance lost in the mist. A train that I say, a small motor car windows disjointed, uncomfortable at possible ... but what pleasure, what joy these 60 kms in the early last century! Charm, a poetry rail in two hours of travel time enhanced by the decor unreal. 
Lima, his great and beautiful Plaza de Armas, the end of the climb to the north that began in early January against the Cape Horn. It will conclude, it will replace the one I is not found ... Be well 
On the eve of the start and after Chile have told you that night on the Salar, I still wanted to share with you my impressions of this all too brief trip that began here in Bolivia a little over 15 days, not far south of the 22nd. 
Much of the country's roads are neither asphalted nor really smooth travel are rather restless and dusty. But a simple glance the window can quickly forget this slight discomfort. The trail turns and returns, then goes down into this magnificent landscape from majestic clumps. Tupiza to Uyuni erosion from rain, wind and rivers has carved out this land real ocher palaces, towers, monuments to the almost incredible size and a perfect verticality seems to be in a perpetual state of ruin, but which impose awe and respect. Passes higher than 4000m reaches with difficulty by a motor breathless, endless descents, beds of rivers, trails perched on a mountainside, infinite loops ... Another pass and we go down, the track is lost for 5 km in the dry river bed of a reach to Atocha, a village on a hillside that has been lost and ridiculous in the midst of such immense. Wonder still between Potosi and Sucre in other of these vast landscapes amid which winds its meandering of a river emaciated by the beginning of the dry season and already floating in the bed too broad and stony. 
So much to say and I wanted to tell you about the beautiful cities of Potosi and Sucre, their churches, giant palm trees, this colonial architecture, these parks so pleasant, the Bolivian shores of Lake Titicaca, Tonight tent on the Isla del Sol with a sky studded with stars and a crescent moon of incredible finesse, the landscapes of the south. And what of the mysterious ruins Tiwanaku, unique landscapes of the altiplano, congestion of pedestrians on the sidewalks of the bustling cities, the chaos of urban transportation, these cities axphisiées pollution at an altitude already prevents normal breathing, the youth of this country or in the park on Sunday afternoon, there is neither a swing or a slide or a tourniquet that is occupied by crowds of children. So much to say even though this part of the trip seems to be sorely missed approfondisement but I'm afraid that my blog turns into a novel or a little indigestible in a powerful sedative. 
But you'll understand principal, this little hook out program was a treat, the rest would have to tell you the way home. I let Stan here in La Paz after 15 days of very pleasant journey shared. I'm leaving tomorrow for Chile to Putre or I would go hiking a few days in a natural park. Walking and sleeping in the tent began to fail me. 
Because yes I am in Bolivia after crossing northern Argentina (the stop is not so bad market) and crossed the border between La Quiaca and Villazon. Once the Bolivian side, it feels very fast change, everything is much less organized, there are very few cars, the buildings are crude and sloppy, street vendors fill the streets ... It's a real change of scene, sometimes a little confusing. 
Past wetlands, dry corner is found, we planted the tent just have to admire the breathtaking scope that gives the impression of walking on the sea or tackle to conquer the South Pole. We get a wonderful sunset in maxi-kino-overamax 370 degrees, reflecting on the expanse of salt. 
is by doubling the lie to the title of my blog that the adventure continues. First I walk less because walking is fine with the stop, and stop, you see it doesn't go over very well. And I am no longer between the Cordillera and the Pacific. I crossed the Andes again after saying goodbye to Valparaiso. I back from Argentina and I fell in love before continuing by Bolivia to join Peru. 
My time in Argentina begins a new trip to Amelia, Gustavo and Amos, their little boy. A week to sleep much, I enjoy vegetarian dishes prepared by master hand my hosts, playing with Uncle Amos (my nieces and nephews that I forgive infidelity) and share good times with this little family that radiates happiness. 
The day had started pretty well. In less than three hours I had done almost 200 miles through a Berrichon nice holiday in the area. This morning the road is straight, we avancont the middle of a salt lake almost dried up! After a quick snack eaten in the shade of the station placed in the middle of nothing, I note the thumbs 12:30 am without doubt a moment that I live one of the worst afternoon of the dozens of years in my career as a hitchhiker. And I must admit, after 6 hours at the roadside under a blazing sun, I gave up! 
