Amazon

Goodbye Amazon, Hello Andes

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This morning was my last little bit to spend time with the boys at Puerto Alegria. Out of anticipation of leaving and wanting to take advantage of the little time I had before departing the house at 8:30, I woke up at 5:45 to shower and pack the few things I still needed, like my tent. If everything had worked perfectly, 5:45 would have been a perfect time to wake up. On my way to the shower, I ran into Lilia, one of the cooks, who informed me that there was no water – somebody forgot to fill the tank with water from the river the night before – and I would have to wait for him to get up and do it. So, I returned to my room and finished packing.

At about 7:30, the boys were all up (I also forgot that they sleep in on Sundays and don´t wake up at the normal 6am!) and ready for breakfast. Since it is Sunday, they didn´t have their typical morning devotional since they were to meet later on in the day and we proceeded to have breakfast – my favorite Puerto ALegria breakfast, pancakes! But before we ate, Willy, the caregiver spoke to the boys about the team from Nebraska that left the day before, about how they had come from such a long way away to share God’s love with them. Atfer mentioning the team, he changed topics and started talking about how thankful the boys should be for me – for the 2 months I spent playing, dancing, hugging, singing, and supporting them in their lives. (Me?! I was only doing what I thought I should be doing.) This made me realize that these were my last moments with them and, of course, made me cry. Things did not get better when they started to sing one of my favorite songs, La Niña de Tus Ojos, a song I woke up and fell asleep to every night while in Puerto Alegria.

When it was time to go, I carried my bags down to the maloca (the gazebo by the river) where all 43 boys were waiting for me. The littlest, Luis (who I have written about before), ran up to me and asked where I was going. I explained that I had to go to my home, that I loved him very much, and that I would miss him. He said that it was okay because he was going to come with me. After telling me this, he ran over to his Papi Willy and told him that he was going to go with me, wherever I was going. After loading my bags into the chalupa (boat), I returned up to the maloca for the final goodbyes. They charged me and one by one, I said goodbye to each boy. Some came multiple times and the whole time I was hugging them, Luis was standing at my feet with his arms around my knees and his head buried in my legs. Of course by this time I was crying and he asked me over and over again, “Why are you crying? Why are you sad?”

At some point it was time to go, time to make the last trip into Iquitos, time to leave Puerto Alegria for the last time on this trip.

(As I write this, I´m sitting in Billy’s apartment in Lima, waiting for our 11pm bus to head up to Huaraz, where we´ll take a little van to Yungay and a taxi up to our Girasoles home in Kusi. Today I will have traveled by boat, plane, bus and car to go from the Amazon jungle to the Andean highlands – all in 24 hours.)

Driving in Peru is an art form

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It never ceases to amaze me every time I jump in a taxi or combi, especially in Lima, how adventurous and wild the driver takes on the road. Street signs and traffic lights are somewhat more of a suggestion than a strict rule that all must follow. They all dart in and out of the lanes without looking.

And don’t think that pedestrians have the right of way. This is not Ann Arbor, or any other city where the number of people outnumbers the vehicles. Frequently I have found myself waiting ten minutes on the corner to cross the street, or just quite as often, darted out into traffic only to come quite close to the oncoming car.

If you don’t own your own car, taxis, combis (minivan bus), colectivos (a shared taxi that follows a set route), and buses (the size of school buses) are everywhere. Taxi prices are completely arbitrary and totally dependent on who is asking, who the taxi driver is, what time of day it is and where you are going. If I, a gringa American, ask to go anywhere remotely touristy – like Miraflores – my “price” for the taxi is definitely different than a Peruvian who wants to go to the same place at the same time.

Not only are taxi prices dependent on the person, each taxi driver thinks they know the best and fastest way to make it to wherever you need to go. Because of this, I have never taken the same route to and from the airport, Miraflores, SUs offices downtown or any other place I’ve been in Lima.

In Iquitos driving is a little different. As I’ve mentioned before, since there aren’t as many cars – more motorbikes and mototaxis – driving is even more fun. People still weave in and out of each other while on the road and I usually have to hold on tight, especially when it is Gene driving his motorbike.

Because Iquitos is on the river, the majority of transportation occurs in boats traveling on the many rivers that meet at the city (including the Amazon). The same rules apply on the river as the road, which means there really aren’t any rules. Various sizes and shapes of boats, some as large at the Amazon Hope or as small as a canoe, dart in between each other, trying to make the least amount of wake, but to get to the destination as fast as possible.

Last week, I was returning to Puerto Alegria after spending a day in Iquitos with all of the Girasoles boys and a team from Pennsylvania. We had a busy day touring the neighborhood and market of Belen, swimming in the lake at the Quistoocoha Zoo, and laughing at the movie Era de Hielo 3 (Ice Age 3) that we all went to see at the movies. It wasn’t until after dark that we departed Iquitos for the 45 minute journey. What amazes me that even though it was completely dark, and at some parts, we had torrential rain, we managed to safely make it back to the house with a tiny little flashlight. The journey took way more than 45 minutes, almost double the time, but it was definitely an adventure.