Driving through the desert
Door: Gilles
Blijf op de hoogte en volg Gilles
10 Februari 2009 | Peru, Piura
I can not move the toes of my right foot. They lack blood. At my right, a man with a cap is sitting with his head against the chair in front of him. He tries to get some sleep. I would do that to if my head could rest on something. But it can't, so I don't. In some way, the man closes one of my veins.
When I turn my head left my chin finds itself above the head of another man, who's head rests on the seat we're sitting on. I would kiss him on his lips if I nod. I imagine how that would change the current situation. It would probably end up with me standing on the street. So I decide not to nod. His face is covered with bushy gray-black hair. He has thick worker hands, and a tough skin because of the strong sun. Probably a fisherman, just like eight other peruvians in this car.
That's right: we're with ten in total. The driver, and two more people in front. Four people in the backseat (I'm one of them), and half of the trunk is occupied by three kids, who speak the language of grown up gangsters. The other half is filled with fisherman stuff.
We come out of Puerto Rico, which is the village closest to the place where I have spent the night in my tent: my research area. I have measured the plants this morning, and am heading back to Piura. This trip will take an hour. After that I'll move to a little bus, a combi, and sit there for another hour.
The cap of the man at my right, decides to leave the car through the window. The man says something about 14 soles. But we drive on. The trip costs 5, so he could go back if the cap is really important.
We pass a village with houses with straw roofs. One of them has a satelite on it. The first thing I think is: doesn't that thing get stolen?
I have found out that Peru is full of robbers. Two attempts of robbery and one actual one have made me less trusting of the South Americans.
One was really sneaky. I was standing next to a wall, bag on the ground, and surrounded my taxi-drivers whom I occasionally spoke with. Waiting for 600 botles to come. As they do these days. At a certain moment, a woman on the phone showed me a coin, with a gest of: 'do you have change?'. I walked towards her, knowing I left my bag on the ground, looking back every ten seconds. When I looked for change in my wallet, I found out I dindn't have it. I wanted to look back again, but the woman made a big gest of: 'oh, then maybe she has change', pointing at a lady who sells cocos. 'She probably does, I thought, when looking back at my bag again'. But it was gone.
I looked further, and saw a fat man walking away with it. Smiling. I thought it probably was a joke. I walked after him, and took my bag back. He walked on, and just around the corner, a taxi picked him up. The woman of the phone was sitting inside aswell. And a group of kids. Masters of distraction. That's what they are. And organised. So I train my focus now. Do not trust any stranger in Peru. They all told me so in the beginning, and I start beleiving them. So far I lost 2 mobile phones and a bankcard. Were they all robbed? O well, I still have my passport.
The road is long. I'm hoping to see the first glipse of Sechura, but it's still far away. I'll have to endure some more. It's way to hot, but the driver is cool. He gave me a free ride a few days ago. At least I still trust him. I am sure my toes will get their blood back soon.
When I turn my head left my chin finds itself above the head of another man, who's head rests on the seat we're sitting on. I would kiss him on his lips if I nod. I imagine how that would change the current situation. It would probably end up with me standing on the street. So I decide not to nod. His face is covered with bushy gray-black hair. He has thick worker hands, and a tough skin because of the strong sun. Probably a fisherman, just like eight other peruvians in this car.
That's right: we're with ten in total. The driver, and two more people in front. Four people in the backseat (I'm one of them), and half of the trunk is occupied by three kids, who speak the language of grown up gangsters. The other half is filled with fisherman stuff.
We come out of Puerto Rico, which is the village closest to the place where I have spent the night in my tent: my research area. I have measured the plants this morning, and am heading back to Piura. This trip will take an hour. After that I'll move to a little bus, a combi, and sit there for another hour.
The cap of the man at my right, decides to leave the car through the window. The man says something about 14 soles. But we drive on. The trip costs 5, so he could go back if the cap is really important.
We pass a village with houses with straw roofs. One of them has a satelite on it. The first thing I think is: doesn't that thing get stolen?
I have found out that Peru is full of robbers. Two attempts of robbery and one actual one have made me less trusting of the South Americans.
One was really sneaky. I was standing next to a wall, bag on the ground, and surrounded my taxi-drivers whom I occasionally spoke with. Waiting for 600 botles to come. As they do these days. At a certain moment, a woman on the phone showed me a coin, with a gest of: 'do you have change?'. I walked towards her, knowing I left my bag on the ground, looking back every ten seconds. When I looked for change in my wallet, I found out I dindn't have it. I wanted to look back again, but the woman made a big gest of: 'oh, then maybe she has change', pointing at a lady who sells cocos. 'She probably does, I thought, when looking back at my bag again'. But it was gone.
I looked further, and saw a fat man walking away with it. Smiling. I thought it probably was a joke. I walked after him, and took my bag back. He walked on, and just around the corner, a taxi picked him up. The woman of the phone was sitting inside aswell. And a group of kids. Masters of distraction. That's what they are. And organised. So I train my focus now. Do not trust any stranger in Peru. They all told me so in the beginning, and I start beleiving them. So far I lost 2 mobile phones and a bankcard. Were they all robbed? O well, I still have my passport.
The road is long. I'm hoping to see the first glipse of Sechura, but it's still far away. I'll have to endure some more. It's way to hot, but the driver is cool. He gave me a free ride a few days ago. At least I still trust him. I am sure my toes will get their blood back soon.
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11 Februari 2009 - 06:05
Carlos:
ah yes, women! Just like men... -
11 Februari 2009 - 09:10
Renske:
t Is alleen Peru hoor, verder valt het heel erg mee. Maar in Peru is t inderdaad moeilijk niet beroofd te worden. Heb je wel weer een leuk verhaal, ja toch? Verder alles goed? Hier mis je niet veel, alleen de prieelvogel en t vogelbekdier. -
22 Februari 2009 - 12:29
Karin:
gaat nog steeds goed daaro? Hier is het nu carnaval. Ik zat me er al weken op te verheugen, maar nu het zo ver is zit ik snipverkouden thuis een beetje tegen het studeren aan te hikken..ook leuk. Groetjes uit Oeteldonk!
x -
09 April 2009 - 21:35
Verena:
spannend om te lezen... grappig dat je zo maar vreemden kust als je je hoofd beweegt in een busje
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