Please pass by

It is the habit of the Iquitos venders, regardless of what they are vending; cigarettes, t-shirts, lottery tix (?), pictures of who knows what, taxi rides, dinners, internet use, . . . you get the picture; it is their habit to be annoying. Not cute annoying like me, but persistent annoying like telemarketers or those who offer to wash your windshield at red lights. They intrude on your space and make you uncomfortable until you cry, "uncle" or are forced to find some other way to dismiss them. There is a certain street vender who doesn´t sell anything tangible, but they still want your money. They are called various names around the world but you will recognize them by the moniker, begger. They are vending their absence in exchange for some money. "pay me and i´ll go away" is the implied offer, but pay them or not, they are soon back.

It became our habit when confronted by this particular type, well any type for that matter, of vendor to take one of 2 approaches. One was to smile and politely say, "no, gracias" and continue walking, the other was to ignore them completely. Ignoring them was 100%effective, especially when walking, but when sitting at a sidewalk cafe it got old having vendors stand in our personal space. So to expedite things we chose the simple, no gracias. Often, however, even this approach required a followup, which was a wave of the hand accompanied with, "pasa", or pass by.

On this particular sunny morning we were walking toward the square for about the 1000th time with no jungle trip, our budget shot, little sleep and even less patience, when we were approached by a couple of beggars, for about the 10,000th time.

Habits can change. Emily skipped right over polite and ignoring and went right to a firm "pasa". One ´vender´moved on, but the other was undeterred and turned and began to follow us. I say ´began´ because he really only took one step. For Emily, it was one step and one plea too many. She turned and inventing a new approach to vendors. She lunged and barked at the startled beggar, "PASA!!!!".

It is doubtful this approach will change the habit of this individual, but it did momentarily make him jump back to the safety of his partner. His astonishment was shortlived and with strength in numbers these two gave us the best chiding ever given by a couple of 10 year olds.

rosa parks

perhaps a bit insensitive of a title, however, as papa sat upfront in the cab, niall and i were standing in the aisle near the front of the bus. the aisles, pretty much all the way to the back, seemed quite full and we moved no further not wanting to barge our way through the old ladies carrying hefty packages and small children waiting next to their parents.

there was a bunch of yelling from the front to the back and niall and i kept looking back and forth wondering why the men in the back would not shift further back to make room for all of us squished up front.

as papa said, the driver found delight in his attempt to get the people to move back, backing up and then quickly slamming on his brakes. i giggled at this, knowing immediately what the driver was doing and thinking to myself "serves those people in the back right."

however, soon niall and i realized the people yelling (we were not quite sure exactly what they were saying but knew it was a command to move back) were yelling at us. (papa confirmed this when he told us later they were using the word "gringos" a lot up front). the yelling persisted and i made an attempt at spanish to say, well, geez guys, there are hombres in the back and WE CAN'T MOVE! only to be overshadowed by Niall who said, to begin with, essentially the same thing in spanish only to end his sentence with some english explitives aimed at every single peruvian on the bus who was watching and waiting for us to move. i, of course, burst out laughing right away.

we finally got the hint and moved to the back of the bus where there was room enough for a circus. of course, we grumbled the whole way: a mixture of english complaints and spanish insults. it was then that we realized we had no idea what sort of protocol goes on and, well, it's ok to yell at the gringos and step on old ladies toes and learn to go with the flow. my bus etiquette has certainly improved since then, which means no uses of common courtesies and shoving people out of the way in order to get out of the seat and exit the bus. additionally, one has to raise one's voice and look angry to get anything done or to be left alone.

i love it all.

phone booth stuffing and other items

The last time i was on a bus (greyhound type) for any length of time was in high school 32 years ago. Another 32 can pass and i´ll be fine with that. Two seats per side, bathroom in back, and a ratio of 1 athlete per seat or 2. Those with rank got a pair of seats to them selves, lower ranks shared.

Fast forward to Peru 30 years later, the year is 2007, June 5 and the setting is a 5 hour ride from Arequipa to Cabanaconde over a variety of road surfaces. We arrive a little before departure and are happy to get tickets. We find these tickets enable us to stand;Niall and Emily took the isle and I sat on the engine cover next to the bus driver. There is a door that separates the bus driver and the passengers, but in this case the bus was so full that people were on both sides of the door. When we got on we thought the bus was full and we´d depart soon. Wrong both times. By Peruvian standards the bus is not full until standing room only has been exceeded and the bus does not move until the bus is full. Well, not entirely true. The people in the isles were not moving back as quickly or compactly as the driver wanted so he began to back up the bus. People outside were yelling, the cargo doors were open, and riders were still trying to board the bus. Undeterred the driver quickly backed out of the spot - - - and then hit the brakes - - - and laughed. After the third time, there was much more room and 25 more people got on board, seventeen of which joined me in the cab with the driver. That´s right, 18 people in the cab, not counting the driver, so really 18 people in 2/3s of a cab. One of the most interesting passengers was the machette weilding one, he wore it in his belt.
emily may have added his picture. Quite a ride. When you get a chance ask Emily about her Rosa Parks involvement in all of this.

public versus private ( could´a kept this )

We´ve all used the public bathrooms in the US. They´re actually quite private and very free. Not so in Peru. Public often means very public, i.e. no door, and definitely not free, 20 cents for #1 with no door and 30 for #2, thankfully with a door. Money well spent.

How do you say, ¨How do you say?¨

the night emily was in the Iquitos ER, i was engaged in lively conversation with the nurses, none of whom spoke English any better then I speak Spanish. We talked about school levels, primary, secondary, high school, college and university. Our respective systems are different enough that this occupied us at least one half hour, only to find out later from emily (who was in a different area during this time) that i was kinda close, but not really.

during this conversation i thought i had hit upon something that would help us understand each other better. I remembered the phrase, ¨how do you say¨and began to use this liberally. I would point to or hold up various items; pencil, paper, stapler, even the desk. I could never quite understand their reply, because my ear for spanish is very poor. I learned later that my memory for the correct phrase was equally poor. it turns out i was telling them I was in love with each of these things or those were all my names. I wonder what they thought of me when i told them i was in love with their desk.

A crosswalk, a bus, and an unfortunate papa

Imagine a rainy day. Imagine the Indy 500 w/go-carts (motocarros) rearing to go at the drop of the starting flag. Imagine a crew member darting across the start line before the flag is raised. Imagine the crewman 1/4 across, still safe, still no flag raise or drop. Imagine a bus in the middle of the starting line. Imagine the flag being raised, crewman now half-way across. (NOTE:Peruvian motorists do not wait for green, only for traffic to clear.) Imagine Papa in front of the bus. Imagine Emily doubled over, cracking up after Papa faces the now moving bus, looks across the street (no room there), the bus again, and then dances his way back to the safety of the curb. In the US, green means GO, in Peru green means GONE.

Glass or Plastic

This adventure begins in our hostal, Hobo Hideaway. Emily wants some water and, of course, what emily wants, emily gets, unless it´s an illfated jungle trip. however, this is not a jungle trip, it is a trip to the mini mart. she sent me on my own, my virgin trip in peru, she even let me have the key. Anyway, it all started with a simple request, "go get me water, papa." I figured i´d get it at the front desk, but it was dry, so i ventured out barefoot ( i believe this is what is known as going native)to the nearest mini mart. I had watched emily and was feeling pretty confident that i could handle 2 waters. So, i proudly requested, "dos aqua". It instantly went down hill from there when she replied in Spanish, "congass" or something that sounded suspiciously like glass. So I politely reply in my best English, "No, plastic". To make sure she understands I point the the plastic water container on the 3rd shelf. She picks it up and i instantly see my error. The bottle is labeled "Con Gas", with gas, in other words (i.e. English) carbonated. With gas, why i didn´t instantly think of emily, i´ll never know. But i recover nicely, smile and say "no, no" and point to a still boxed and unopened stack of water bottles (all plastic, by the way)that are the the kind without gas, just like the bottle we had yesterday. She puts that bottle of con gas away she points to another one in the cooler. She doesn´t get it, it´s the same brand. I don´t want con gas. So I insist on the familiar brand in the stack on the floor, same as we had yesterday. When she again gives me a puzzled look (i seem to be getting a lot of these), i figured she still didn´t get it and was never going to get it, but since I did, i didn´t worry about it. She handed me the familiar bottles but couldn´t resist one more look. I bought my dos aqua and proudly hurried back, still barefoot, to the hostal. It was not until the first bottle fizzed all over my pants that i understood her looks. I had rejected the con gas in the cooler, made by Cielo, and the ´sin gas´ (without gas) in the cooler, also made by Cielo, and insisted she give me the more familiar brand, SanLuis. How was i to know San Luis made two types of water?