We went to Celendin... Jerome and I, on our way to Moyambamba. We never have
any idea where we will stay, but we always find some nice local´s house over
our heads. At the bus station upon arrival I went to the bathroom, and by
the time I returned Jerome had found us accommodation... well sort of.
We followed the family through the streets for about 10 minutes until we
came to the house. We walked in to see mud walls with vines dangling along
them. Everything was made of bamboo and wood, and there was a dodgy ladder
up to the next level where our room was. Our empty room with dirty wooden
floor-boards and no lights.
More than happy to accept their offer, we left our bags there and ventured
out into the town where a huge festival was just beginning... ¨Un Santo¨
(something to do with religion). The food... THE FOOD!! The people, and the
dancing... the dancing with such freedom! I loved this place, so secluded
from the world, yet so alive.
There was a colourful electricity in the air, as Jerome (in the nice comfy
hammok) and I (on a thin yoga mat, on the hard wooden floor), lay listening
to the most amazing music and singing we have both ever heard in our lives!!
It was the happiest sound in the world.
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The next stop on the way to Moyambamba was Tingo, where we went up a
mountain and briefly checked out some of the historical culture of Peru. We
saw the ¨Ruinas de Kuelaps¨, which has about 420 ancient
and stoney constructions that are currently being excavated. I was told that
the rich used to live in this classy old fortress, and that the surrounding
mountains are where 3- 4,000 poorer families used to live.
Although I thought this history was interesting, I found the trip back down
the mountain the best part. The tiniest flowers had the most amazing fluro
colours and patterns, and there were fields of corn with scarecrows spotted
throughout the mountains that held different patches of yellow, green, and
brown farming lands.
Once down, back in the town of Tingo, we managed to hitch a ride with a bus
full of 10th graders from England, who were doing some sort of school
challenge expedition that was created to help them learn more about the
world. I chatted for ages to the kids, and Jerome was a hit because he gave
food to everyone upon entry into the bus.
The bus arrived in the next town of Chachapoyas, where we spent the night
camping in the garden of a hostel. And then after a morning of work on the
computer we caught a taxi to the next town called Pedro Ruis, and then a bus
onto Moyambamba.
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The bus was INSANE... and the little towns on the way were truly
different!! There were giant, shiny Jesus symbols at the front of the bus,
on big black windows. The man collecting money for the bus trip seemed way
out of his head, and was extremely hostile... the driver wouldn´t even stop
when someone was yelling that they wanted to get off.
When we were at the only toilet stop, a little girl sold me some corn. We
spoke for a few minutes, and her sadness was imminent. The strangest thing
happend though... she asked me if my name was Simone. I hadn´t said my name
and was a little shocked at her question, but I of course said yes and
smiled.
When we arrived in Moyambamba there were an extra two French people (that
Jerome had not stopped chatting to for hours) with us. They were interested
in the environmental organisation that we were visiting in the town, and
wanted to perhaps volunteer.
So there we all were at the bus terminal, at midnight, and with nowhere to
sleep. We began talking to an old couple who were sitting on a bench, and
before we knew it we were eating dinner they had cooked, in their house of
bamboo that had walls made of rice herd and mud. The backyard was filled
with fruits and vegetables, and it was just so beautiful and tranquil. And
Once again, I was on the floor... this time with the French travellers (Alexandra and Yann).
FOR FURTHER INFORMATION ABOUT THE NOMADIC HANDS JOURNEY GO TO WWW.NOMADICHANDS.COM
