To join two localities in the bush of the Republic of Peru, the author had to ride on a truck carrying people and goods. Poor road conditions and bad weather made the trip a bit difficult. This allowed him to meet interesting aspects of people and geography.
In the village of Mazuko, in the jungle of the Republic of Peru, watched the water falling warning that the rains had begun. This complicated my plans to reach the city of Puerto Maldonado Peru also. While the hundred miles that separated me from my destiny did not seem significant, the state they were in were. For hours I waited for a truck, almost the only means of transport between the towns named, no luck.
The villagers believed that some difficulties have begun to show on the road coming from Cuzco because of rain. Tired, I decided to seek accommodation. The modest hotel room I stayed was clean and fresh. When the generator of the people stopped working at the same time every day, I was resting. The wooden walls let in the sound of the raindrops rattling everywhere. With this it was difficult to sleep.
The next morning I learned that a truck was about to leave and I hurried to find him. It was a Volvo N 1020, apparently very robust. In this area, the truck carries both cargo and people. So I went for a large group of people, up from sacks of potatoes, cabbage, general food and general merchandise.
As we could and we settled prevailing comments on the time it took to get there. At the time of closing from business dealings were continued and new packages are crowded into the vehicle. In these places, prices vary greatly with the kilometer, which is why each person a lot of luggage. Walking distance to sell everything and a handful of Suns, which is the Peruvian currency, light a little personal economies.
Previous police checkpoint, leaving behind the people of Mazuko. The forest then we wrapped it and the road started to become difficult. Surprised, I noticed that each well or drop the truck is leaning considerably. Its creaky wooden box with the torque suffered. I realized that the trip would not be quiet. My colleagues commented that it is normal for tipping lorries leaving good balance of wounded or dead. I think of all the passengers, I was most worried me. Others supported it with the tranquility that comes from the habit. For them, this form of travel, was normal. For me, sharing the social life in the truck was an interesting experience. As you saw, each had won a place among the cargo. This space used to be won respect for others. If so, the owner defended him shouting, shoving and discussions.
To these people I was a stranger. They called me “gringo”, a term with calling abroad and which was used with a derogatory tone. For many of these people that I was European, American, African or Argentinian was more or less the same. It was different in many ways to what they were accustomed. For this reason and the natural curiosity of man itself, I was constantly questioned, taking on some occasions, to answer the same question several times. My team was highly scrutinized, but still sleeping or at different times I left the group, nothing was stolen from me.
And he was constantly tested. I asked for something borrowed, teased me and occupied my place to see how they react. I actually sought to know what my limit. In some cases they are clearly marked, but always trying to maintain harmony.
