As usual, the first step was to find a colectivo. I went to where they all hang out and was approached by a tout. I don't know who he worked for, possibly just himself, because when I said I wanted to go to Tambo, he took me around to various colectivos to see if they wanted a passenger going that way. The first few didn't, but eventually he found me a ride in the right direction. I don't think the guy with the vehicle was actually in the colectivo business per se--I think was just a guy from Tambo who was going that way and figured he'd make a few soles for his trouble. For one thing, he was driving a nice SUV, which isn't the norm (rattly 15-seat vans). After he rounded up three more people we were on our way. Being in a good vehicle was somewhat comforting as we ascended a winding, narrow, occasionally washed-out mountain road in the rain and fog. And Peruvian drivers have a habit of passing on curves. Of course, the roads often consist of nothing but curves...
We got in Tambo and hour and a half later, which the driver boasted was a hour faster than the colectivos would take. I got dumped off at the first hospedaje (hotel) we passed, where I got a room for 20 soles ($7) that wasn't worth a penny more. Here is on of the famous electric showers that you sometimes find in Latin America. I didn't use it, not out of fear of electrocution, but because I thought spending too much time in that bathroom might make me dirtier rather than cleaner.
It was pouring rain by this time but I figured I might as well have a look around. There was a scraggly outdoor market, the highlight of which was a little booth run by a young guy selling music DVDs--which the prospective customer and anyone else walking by got to preview. Here is a typical stall:
After that I took a little walk down the street:
Some street, huh. Not all the roads were like that, but many were pretty rough. Here are some typical houses.
In Peruvian Spanish you'd call these humilde--humble, or just plain poor. Life in the mountains of Peru has to be judged by different standards than in Canada, but when you live in a mud-brick house with no windows and a dirt floor, I don't see how you can be living very high on the human development scale. Despite several trips to Latin America, this was probably the first time I really came face to face with rural poverty. Not dying-in-the-streets poverty, but poverty nonetheless. I didn't come here to be a "poverty tourist" by any means, but since it exists, I might as well have seen it.
Tambo is largely a Quechua town. I seemed to be the only gringo around, that day at least, which provoked some curiosity. I expect there aren't many tourists who come that way. I didn't see any frisky English nurses either. I felt slightly uncomfortable, since at the best of times I try to pass under the radar, but I wouldn't say there was any hostility shown toward me. I tried to be polite and say buenas tardes to everyone. One older woman replied Hola señor gringo in a not-unfriendly way.
I don't want to paint the places as all grim. The physical setting is lovely:
There was entertainment too, in the main square:
The game started around 4pm and when I wandered by at around 6 it was still going on, but with some changes of personnel. They were pretty good too--being taller would have helped though.
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