Sometimes in conversations the subject of foreign travel comes up. If I mention that I lived in Peru for nine years, the usual response is something like, "I've never been there but would like to see it." Occasionally someone will say that they have visited Peru, and add that Peru is a beautiful country. When I ask them where they visited, the typical reply is Lima, Machu Picchu, Cusco and Arequipa. I ignore the urge to tell them that they haven't seen Peru; that the locals who descend on them, especially the women dressed in native costumes and holding those cute little lambs, are not representative of 90% of Peru. What they and the hundreds of artisan kiosks represent are "un pueblo para turistas." And that's okay. Like everyone else in this world they are just trying to make a few bucks.
In my previous post I mentioned that the rock I was writing about came from the Chinchipe River near the village of Zapotal. Zapotal and hundreds of small villages like it located in northern Peru's costal desert and mountains are the real Peru. I seriously doubt if a tourist, or even a missionary has ever been to Zapotal. It is not an adventure for the faint-hearted.
The journey begins at Chiclayo, the normal departure point. A bus is the usual transportation, taking six hours on winding roads in the Andes Mountains to reach the city of Jaen (pronounced hi-een). In Jaen there are men with cars who make their living by taking people to outlying villages. This part of the trip is an adventure.
The Chinchipe River must be crossed. The problem is that there are no bridges, so sometime in the past some ingenious people devised a way to cross the river. By using a series of cables attached to each other and ultimately to winches on shore, people, cars and even trucks are barged across the river.
There are other, smaller rivers to cross. This is done by simply driving through them, but first stopping to cover the car's engine to the degree possible, because the river water reaches about one-third of the way up the car doors.
After what seems like an eternity the village of Zapotal appears. The population of maybe 300 people are farmers. Their produce is transported to Jaen via the same route described above.
The Chinchipe River, which is milky colored with a fairly swift current is a focal point of the village. The villagers wash laundry and bathe in it, get their cooking water from it, and use it to cool off during the heat of the day.
You won't find gaily dressed women holding lambs, or kiosks selling everything under the sun, or tourist restaurants and night-life lounges. These are people who work hard from sun up to sun down just to get by. They are mostly content with their lives.
If you've been to Zapotal or a village like it, you've seen the real Peru.
