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Published: October 2nd 2005
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The Streets of Pucallpa
"Moto-kars" everywhere! They´re so fun. Pucallpa is a large sprawling city of about 300,000 people. The roads are bursting with rickshaws, and a ride through the city feels exactly like a game of MarioKart - except there are no Princess drivers; all are men. There are very few tourists in Pucallpa, the one and only draw (for your average tourist) being the fresh water dolphins in Lake Yarinacocha. Indeed, a tourist cannot find a map; one day we spent five hours going to city hall, the police station, bookstores, Western Union, tour operators, and other government buildings, but no map existed. I don´t know how anyone finds their way because none of the streets are labeled. This city is also known for its beautiful women; girls who look like 25 year old models are really only 14 or 15. Go into a club, and you will only find girls under 20 years old, or over 35 - this is because most of those between the ages of 20 and 35 are at home with their kids. It is extremely hot - about 95 degrees - and extremely muggy, which makes it difficult to think or to do anything at all.
Sebastian´s project here is centered
On the Way to San Francisco
Sometimes you take a rickshaw half-way there, but most of the time it´s a white taxi, like the one in front of us here. in a small town called San Francisco, population 3,000, which is 30 minutes away by taxi. The taxis wait near the lake until there is a full load of passengers; sometimes the wait is an hour. And a full load means that it would be physically impossible to squeeze one more body into the vehichle. There is a bumpy dirt road underneath five inches of dust; it has not rained here in five months. And, to get to San Francisco, you must drive over three makeshift bridges, made of random planks of varying quality. These bridges probably could have supported the normal Pucallpa-San Francisco taxis for years, but there are an endless number of monsterous trucks using the road to extract load after load of timber from the jungle. Since this industry is not regulated whatsoever, the trucks are allowed to destroy the bridges, as well as the jungle itself. During every bridge crossing, I was afraid the car would plunge into the river below, but it never happened. But one day, we did pass a huge truck, and two minutes later came upon the bridge, its planks totally destroyed, and completely impassable. At times it seemed to me, that
My Home in the Jungle
It keeps the bugs out! there was no one in charge of transportation, regulation, no one willing to do anything about these problems. Even the local people did not care to rally themselves for any kind of change or improvement. In a place where there seems to be so many problems with garbage, safety, health, transportation, etc., and yet so many good people with time on their hands, this continues to be a frustration.
In San Francisco, we stayed with Yanasa and her family. Yanasa is an adorable old woman - about 75 years old I think - with a high voice and a scrunched-up face. She speaks Spanish in the cutest way imaginable and giggles about everything. She and her extended family live in large huts, the walls made of wood planks, the roofs of palm leaves. There is electricity for the occasional light or for the very occasional refrigerator, and people use propane for burners to cook dinner.
I found eating to be an adventure out here, not because of what´s eaten, but because of how it´s prepared. Once Sebastian and I went to the market to buy food for everyone´s dinner. The traveler is cautioned not to eat raw vegetables
Me...
In front of the bathroom and the shower. because they might not be cleaned properly; they might have parasite eggs living on or in them. But the first thing we bought was kilos and kilos of vegetables. I thought, "Fine, they look clean enough anyway." The stall next to the vegetables was a table with a plastic table cloth. Sitting on the tablecloth were ten raw feathered chickens, dry with the heat of the sun, and covered in flies. I though to myself, "There´s no way in hell I´d eat one of those chickens!" Where is the next place Sebastian takes me? To the next stall to buy raw chickens! We bought two; they are stuffed in a small plastic sack, feet popping out through the top. Expectedly, I´m horrified, and wondering how I´m going to get out of this one. But that´s not all, because when we start cooking, we rinse everything off with unboiled well water, cut up the chicken, and then cut up the vegetables with the same uncleaned knife. In the end, I ate everything, and didn´t get sick in the least.
One more thing: I still laugh to myself when I remember Juana, the 24 year old, pregnant, beautiful grandaughter of Yanasa...knawing
A Market in Pucallpa
Always an endless supply of bananas. on boiled chicken feet at this same meal. Not my idea of appetizing!
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anonymous
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sweet pics, i was just expecting something a little more, i don't know..."south american", such as transvestites or birth defects