My perceptions of the small city by the Peruvian Amazon, Puerto Maldonado.

The city before the jungle, the biodiversity capital of the world, civilization outside the rainforest. The town is always moving, but it moves slowly, constantly conserving its energy in the heavy heat that coats the town and makes you sweat while you sip on your morning coffee (instant Nescafé with canned milk). A town where you can get drunk and eat street meat at 2 am on a Monday. A town that doesn’t get shut down by the terrifying torrential storms. Where motorcycles and motocars fill the air with the sound of small beeps. Where crosswalk doesn’t mean cars will let you walk. Where it’s normal to blow red lights and stop signs. Where eye contact and the slight fluttering of your fingers where they rest near your thigh is enough to call the attention of a motorcyclist in a yellow vest who will take you to wherever you need to go in town for a sole. Where women on corners offer choclo con queso, in sing-songy voices. Where refrescos are cold and papayas grow on the city streets and restaurants make fusions with yuca and ginger and plantains. Where the homeless and the drunk take afternoon refuge in bushes. Where you you learn not to flinch when an insect lands on you or your table. Where the street art makes beautiful the suffering of the natives under the hands of the Spanish conquistadores. Where you can hop on a motorboat on the Madre de Dios River and sail to Cusco…

 

 

 

 

by Rebecca Bellan