The Rich Beggar From Huancayo [in Spanish and English]

In the Plaza de Armas in Huancayo, Peru, I saw the old gentleman-beggar, dressed in semi looking textiles, close to rages his cloths were–or so it looked from where I was–(about thirty feet away specifically); mainly in front of the opened door cathedral–opened I believe for the worshipers, but he of course–like a good business man, positions himself well–so the old man positioned himself centerfold like, paced back and forth within this area, in front of the church. Oh I had seen him before here, it wasn’t my first time, but it was the first time I did a double take on him. I visit Huancayo, the most beautiful place in the Andes, that and the whole of the Mantaro Valley: that and White Mountain, which is part of all three: the Andes, Huancayo and Mantaro Valley. I have a home there, a small one for visiting, and although I do not make it up there as often as I’d like, it always numbs me, makes me feel calm, brings my pulse down, and gives me fresh air.

So here I am in the Plaza de Armas, and the old beggar–woops, did say old again, pardon me, when he got close to me, his skin was smooth, deep eyes, solid looking face, perhaps 48-years old, or 54-years old, not as old as me I’m sure, I’m 58-years old and he looks healthier than me. He had wide lowered shoulders, to make him look more decrepit, and his teeth–he tried not to smile too much–were not overly dull, that is why he tried to speak with his lips down, closed, say as few words as he had to: his teeth were of a more well today person, one not malnourished, as he was portraying to be. He was robust, healthier than a fat Ginny pig [Cuy]. As I watched him, it reminded me of users, like a few people I know who got nothing else in life to do but to feed off others.

The sun is out today; it is hot with a breeze, and he asks me if I can spare a coin or two. I have done that in the past, given him a coin or two, a few times I’ve done that, thus, at this point of our lives, he’s gotten a few too many coins from me I think. Hence, he gives me a smile, and lowered head, and he walked on by and asked others, the poor looking gentleman. Poor soul, hell, he is a taker, user, and lazy bum, like those critters I’ve mentioned before, it is just this one has found his home, his clientele, his free meal.

So I see him coming to me again, in this bright sunny afternoon, early afternoon, the water fountains are reaching up to the sky today–very beautiful, and lots of people visiting the church. He approaches me and as he does I remember what my brother-in-law told me a few days ago: “He’s in the bank, saw him myself, made a deposit (looked like a healthy one), my friends saw him also, depositing his money…he’s in there every day….” Ah, so he has a bank account I tell myself: it takes money to have an account in Peru, if you do not have $500-dollars in it, you have to pay to keep it, and pay all those little fees, so I assume he has a fat little account, or perhaps a fat, fat account.

Now I get thinking as he approaches me, thinking of Lima, thinking at the big chain store in Lima–the big picture you could say, not one but many, but I will just talk about one, Metro, in Miraflores: every time I go in there, buy a few things, which is almost every day, they want to keep my change; oh, it is a small sum I know, not all that much, and they always say– or used to say, used to ask: ‘…do you want your change’ and I think: why wouldn’t I? –when I say yes, they say ‘…do you have change for this .001 or .004 cents of a cent of a soles)) not much indeed but let’s look at this after a while, how it grows: they do this knowing most people do not carry .001 or .004 cents of a cent of a soles (and they are too lazy to put it into their cash register, or is it by purpose? And they think no one notices and thus, they are the smart ones); therefore, they want to keep it–bottom line. Last time they just kept my change, and didn’t even ask me if I wanted to contribute .003 or was it .001 s/.? Just kept it as if it was theirs: they are getting so used to it they don’t even ask anymore.

Now I never said a word the first 20-times, but it is getting old, very old indeed, by the time, the time I’m 70-years old, at .002, if I continue to go there everyday, I’ll will have contributed 876 soles, or $265 (I could use that to buy a colored TV). Now they are a busy store, perhaps one of those tellers takes in 100-customers an hour, if not more, and at .002 [the mean average], is two soles an hour, and we got 24-hours to a day, so we got 48-soles for one line of business in one store (and remember they have many stores), and we got about 8-lines in one store, now we got apex. 400-soles in one day from one store (and remember we got many stores in Lima, Peru), and in one year we got, 146,000 s. /. [Soles] Now if I live to be 70-years old, and they are still in business, that is, 1752000, s/. $531,000 dollars (over a half million dollars)) soles at 3.30 s/.)); now I heard someone say they give it to charity, the money they take from their customers they give these forced donations to charity, but I’ve not seen it, and in Peru, seeing is believing, so I’ve learned; and this money is not given freely, it is given out of pressure as you are standing in line wanting to get through. No guns involved here, just psychology.

Anyhow, we are back in the Plaza area, and the beggar is coming to me, and as expected, he asks for money, but this time I am not so gullible, I say to him:

“How is your Bank account?” he pretends not to understand me, so my wife speaks in, Peruvian Spanish, loud and clear for me (she is Peruvian of course). He is walking fast now. And I repeat myself, “Dinero, dollars!” he understands that, but has picked up his pace. He almost runs to the police standing on the sidewalk in his pathway, almost falls on him, and begs him to stop me from following him: what has happened to the begging dinero concept, he doesn’t want to talk anymore. The Police laugh: perhaps he is getting what he deserves, like most people do, sooner or later. I’m not sure how but he escapes me, perhaps I was laughing too hard, and he zipped by the corner of my eye. The next few days, I do not see him, and then I had to go back to Lima, and the United States, but I’m back in Lima, and on my way to Huancayo pretty soon, I wonder if I’ll find the rich beggar there?

In Spanish
by Nancy Penaloza

El Mendigo Rico De Huancayo

En la plaza de Armas en Huancayo, Perú, Vi al viejo caballero-mendigo, vestido en textiles poco parecidos, cercano a la locura sus ropas eran -o parecían desde donde yo estaba -(específicamente cerca de treinta pies lejos); principalmente delante de la puerta abierta de la catedral-abierto yo creo para los creyentes, pero él por supuesto-como un buen hombre de negocios, bien posicionado – Así, el viejo hombre se posicionaba el mismo como abatido se paseaba de arriba para abajo dentro de esta área, delante de la iglesia. Oh, Yo ya lo había visto antes aquí, esta no era mi primera vez, pero era la primera vez que hice una reacción tardía de él. Yo visito Huancayo, el lugar más hermoso de los Andes, y de todo el valle del Mantaro: eso y la Montaña blanca, el cuál es parte de los tres: los Andes, Huancayo y el valle Mantaro. Tengo un hogar allí, uno pequeño para visitar, y aunque lo hago sin planearlo y no tan a menudo como quisiera, me adormece siempre, me hace sentir calma, trae mi pulso abajo, y me da el aire fresco. Entonces, aquí estoy en la plaza de Armas, y el viejo mendigo-woops, dije viejo otra vez, discúlpeme, cuando él logró acercarse a mí, su piel era lisa, ojos profundos, cara pareciendo sólida, quizás 48-años de edad, o 54-años de edad, no tan viejo como yo, seguro, yo soy, de 58 años de edad y él parece más sano que yo. Él tiene hombros anchos caídos, para hacerlo parecer más decrépito, y sus dientes-él trató de no sonreír mucho-no eran demasiado opacos, por eso, él intentó hablar con sus labios caídos, cerrados, diciendo tan pocas palabras como él tuvo que hacerlo: sus dientes eran mejores que los de una persona hoy en día, a uno desnutrido, como él trataba de representar. Él era robusto, más sano que un cerdo gordo de Guinea [Cuy]. Mientras lo miré, me recordó de los drogadictos, como a pocas personas que yo conozco, quienes no consiguen nada mas en la vida para hacer sino, la comida de otros.

El sol ha salido hoy; esto esta cálido con una brisa, y él me pregunta si puedo darle una moneda o dos. He hecho eso en el pasado, darle una moneda o dos, algunas veces he hecho eso, así, a este punto de nuestras vidas, el ha conseguido muchas monedas de mí pienso. Por lo tanto, él me da una sonrisa, e, inclina su cabeza, y pasea cerca y pide a otros, él, que parece pobre caballero. Alma pobre, diablos, él es un tomador, drogadicto, y vago perezoso, como esos bichos que he mencionado antes, este es justo, aquel que ha encontrado su hogar, su clientela, su comida gratis.

Entonces lo veo viniendo hacia mi otra vez, por esta tarde asoleada brillante, tarde temprana, las fuentes del agua están alcanzando hasta el cielo hoy día-muy hermoso, y mucha gente visitando la iglesia. Él se me acerca y mientras que lo hace, yo me acuerdo lo que mi cuñado me contó hace pocos días:…” él está en el banco, lo vi personalmente, hizo un depósito (parecía uno muy saludable), mis amigos lo vieron también, depositando su dinero… él está en allí cada día…” Ah, Entonces el tiene una cuenta bancaria. En Perú, si, tú no tienes $500-dólares en él, Tu tienes que pagar para guardarlo, y pagar todos esos pequeños honorarios, Entonces asumo que él tiene una cuenta un poco gorda, o quizás una gorda, cuenta gorda.

Ahora consigo pensar mientras él se me acerca, pensando en Lima, pensando en la cadena grande de almacenes de tiendas en Lima- la gran ilustración usted podría decir, no uno sino muchos, pero apenas hablaré de uno, Metro, en Miraflores: cada vez que entro allí, compro algunas cosas, lo cuál es casi cada día, ellos quieren guardarse mi vuelto; OH, es una suma pequeña lo sé, todo eso no mucho, y ellos siempre dicen-o acostumbran decir, acostumbran a preguntar: “… usted desea su cambio” y pienso: ¿por qué no desearía? – cuando digo sí, ellos dicen “… usted tiene cambio para estos s/.001 o 004 centavos de un centavo de soles (y ellos son demasiado perezosos para ponerlo esto en su caja registradora, ¿o esto es a propósito? Y piensan que nadie lo nota y así, ellos son los listos); Sin embargo, desean guardar esto, bajo la línea. La última vez ellos justo se guardaron mi cambio, e incluso no me preguntaron si yo deseaba contribuir. ¿S/.003 o era 001? Solo se lo guardaron como si fuera de ellos: están haciendo una costumbre de esto, ya ni siquiera piden. Ahora, nunca dije una palabra las primeras 20 veces, pero se esta haciendo viejo, muy viejo de hecho, por el memento, al memento yo tengo 70-años de edad, en el 002, si continúo yendo allí diario, habré contribuido 876 soles, o $265 (podría utilizar esto para comprar una TV a colores). Ahora ellos son un almacén concurrido, quizás una de esas cajeras toma en 100-clientes a la hora, si no más, y en el 002 [el promedio significativo], son dos soles a la hora, y tenemos 24-horas en un día, entonces conseguimos 48-soles para una fila de negocio en un almacén (y recuerden que ellos tienen muchos almacenes), y conseguimos cerca de 8-filas en un almacén, ahora nosotros conseguimos aproximadamente.

400-soles en un día de un almacén (y recuerde que tenemos muchos almacenes en Lima, Perú), y en un año conseguimos, s/.146.000. [Soles] ahora si vivo hasta los 70 años de edad, y ellos todavía están en el negocio, es decir, s/.1752000. $531.000 dólares (sobre medio millón de dólares)) de soles en s/.3.30)); ahora yo oí a alguien decir que le dan a la caridad, el dinero que toman de sus clientes ellos dan estas donaciones forzadas a la caridad, pero yo no lo he visto, y en Perú, ver es para creer, he aprendido eso; y este dinero no se da libremente, esto es dado fuera de presión mientras tu estas esperando en fila, queriendo conseguirlo a través. Ningún arma implicados aquí, solo psicología.

De todos modos, estamos de vuelta en el área de la plaza, y el mendigo está viniendo hacia mí, y según lo esperado, él pide dinero, pero esta vez no soy tan crédulo, y le digo:

¿”cómo esta tu cuenta bancaria?” él finge no entenderme, entonces mi esposa habla en Español Peruano, alto y claro para mí (ella es peruana por supuesto). Él ahora está caminando rápidamente. Y me repito, “Dinero, ¡dólares!” él entiende eso, pero ha tomado su paso. Él casi corre hacia la policía que está parado en la acera en su camino, casi cayendo sobre él, y les ruega para que me pare de seguirlo: qué ha sucedido al concepto de petición del dinero, él no desea hablar más. La policía ríe: quizás él está consiguiendo lo que se merece, como la mayoría de la gente, tarde o temprano. No estoy seguro cómo él se me escapa, quizás yo estaba riendo demasiado fuerte, y él se movió rápidamente por la esquina de mi ojo. Los días siguientes no lo vi, y entonces tuve que regresar de nuevo a Lima, y los Estados Unidos, pero estoy de regreso en Lima, y en mi camino a Huancayo muy pronto, ¿Me pregunto si encontraré al mendigo rico allí?

Beads, Beads, and as I Live and Bead – A Little about Organization and Storage

English: bead

Spanish: cuenta

French: perle

Italian: perla

Dutch: De kraal

Portuguese: conta

Chinese: “OZì

Russian: ,,q,,…,,?,,y,,~,,{,,p

Today I thought I would write something about beads. I mean, after all, that is what I live and breathe, BEADS, BEADS and…
organization and storage.

I even see beads in my sleep… if you call those 8 hours of interrupted unrest, sleep?!?

If wealth were measured in beads, I would be pretty dang wealthy indeed!

Being in the business of selling beads and jewelry making supplies, we needed some sort of organizational system. Our little home based business settled on purchasing quantities of part binds. I believe at last count we have just over 40 of these 24 drawer organizers. Each drawer has been divided to house two different products. Thus far, this system of ours has worked out pretty well. Now keep in mind, my shop/office is only 10′ x 12′ so if you are thinking, how can they possibly have that many organizers in one room… you’re right… not possible! We ran out of room eons ago, so anticipating that I would continue to expand upon our line, my husband, Dave aka Beadshipper, Shipper Extraordinaire, started moving all of our semi precious beads to another room….

Unfortunately that room happens to be our bedroom…. which brings me back to my previous statement of seeing beads in my sleep! *HA* And you thought I was making a funny! NOT! We now have 24 of these wonders of storage covering one wall of our bedroom. So, when my other half isn’t sitting in the shop/office at his desk playing his favorite online computer game, I can find him in the bedroom, with the television packing orders while watching some sort of sci fi movie.

Now these 24 drawer wonders are great for semi precious beads, strands, and jewelry findings, but, there is no way I could possibly fill one of these drawers with swarovksi crystals , or swarovski pearls, or sterling silver beads and findings! I may be wealthy in terms of beads, but I’m not THAT kind of wealthy! *HA* Sterling is expensive! So… we opted to purchase a few of the 60 drawer cabinets for just those special bobbles!

Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE BEADS, but seeing all those drawers in my bedroom has me a bit uneasy. When I leave the shop/office in the wee hours of the morning, I don’t expect to walk into an extension of my office to sleep which is probably why I don’t… sleep! But now you understand that when I say I live and breathe BEADS…. I really DO!!

Only recently I have added Copper Beads and findings to our line and since we are out of cabinets as is the local Target…. we have resorted to some other interesting storage containers….larger open bins. However, when it comes to organization… they SUCK… but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

We have a nice assortment of shapes and sizes…. much like our semi precious beads line…. Some of these hold our jewelry tools, others hold bead books, still others house the permeable scent line, and an assortment of others hold the variety of beading Cord, Wire and String.
Now all of these different storage devices are working out well enough but I couldn’t possibly see putting my BDSLR Artisan Jewelry in containers like these.

So once again I went in search of and found the jewelry carrying case pictured below.
I decided upon 5 of these jewelry wonders! Jewelry Carrying Cases. Each 16″L x 9″W x 13″H case holds 12 trays 1″H which I might add, do not come with the case. Each tray holds an insert. I wasn’t sure what particular insert to purchase for the trays so I settled for 4 different types, all of which, of course, have their special designated purpose!
My choices included the 7 Slot, 8 Slot, 10 Slot and 18 Slot inserts.

I like the 7 Slot for Bead Necklaces. The 8 Slot holds 2 and 3 piece sets nicely. The 10 Slot is perfect for bracelets and the 18 Slot…. yep… earrings of course! Without these cases, trays and inserts, BDSLR Artisan Jewelry would be a complete disorganized disaster! Just another organizational PLUS! And they are great for craft fairs! With these in hand and my array of displays, I’m ready for just about anything not to mention ready to go anywhere within a moments notice!

Now if I had my druthers, I would own at least 3 of what I like to call the monster storage units. This awesome monster is fabulous but extremely expensive! It is sold by a company called Simplastics and has 240 drawers! WOOO HOOO!

The cabinet is 48″W x 24″D x 78″H. Mind you, I don’t really need the depth, but the fact that it has 240 drawers!!! WOW! And it even comes in an assortment of colors: black, blue, yellow, red, green, ivory, as it should, considering that one of these monsters costs $1,983 and change, not including shipping and handling!!!! TRIPLE WOW!!! And considering that it weighs 507 pounds… Let’s not even go there! *HA*
This would be perfect for storing my assortment of Beads and Jewelry Making Supplies.

If you really really want to…and please, I do not want you to feel as though I am forcing you… so, voluntarily feel free to spend your money on my products!!! The way I see it, If I can sell enough, I will be able to purchase one of the much dreamed of monster cabinets which will allow me to remove the numerous haunting bead cabinets from my bedroom and in turn give me that much needed nights sleep! So… I implore, beseech, entreat, petition, plead, solicit, even PRAY you to… SPEND SPEND SPEND your MONEY MONEY MONEY on my BEADS BEADS BEADS and other quality jewelry making supplies because we all know, you can’t use one without the other!

Well… that about covers it for today~ Thank you. Until the next time…. HAPPY BEADING!

Donna aka Beadseller 🙂

The Mystery of Stone Ship ((in English and Spanish)(from the Satipo Jungles, Peru))

(A Legend out of the Jungles of Satipo)

English Version

(Advance) It’s a very old rock structure, brown, with a sandy like texture to it, about the size of a 17th Century Ship, it resides in the middle of the Perene Rio, in the Central Jungles of Peru, called Satipo. Deep within the jungle nearby this rock structure, lived a tribe of natives, the ‘Ashaninka,’ derived from the earlier natives called the ‘Arawak’ …I have visited an Ashaninka tribe myself; they are a warm hearted peaceful people, very creative in the arts. And so now for the Legend…:

Throughout the bloody and frightfully sixteen-hundreds, the so called Colonists (Colonos), with their slave ships, sought out the Ashaninka natives, for slaves, sold them to the highest bidder, in the Lima, and Huancayo markets, and in other parts of Peru, along with other cities of South America. The Colonists jammed an absolutely peaceful people into the guts of the ship; it was absolutely body to body. The officers were very cold and dehumanizing. The aftermath of these years took a toll; the Colonists had rapped the land like fire in dry grass-of its masses, putting them into slavery. These natives: insulted, frightened, none of them to return to their tribes. And the Colonists kept their recurrent surge up, keeping the slave-flesh, in the hole of the ship, with stale, deadly breath and putrid surroundings, many died on the journey to the markets, thrown over the stern of the ship for the fish and vultures to eat, once dead.

On a given day, something took place, that would mold into a legend, something, every Colonist would ponder on thereafter, and ship captains would forever take into account, when they’d sailed down the Rio Perene by what would be named-forevermore the ‘The Rock of Stone Ship.’

It was an atrociously hot day. The rain had stopped; the captain had anchored his ship in the middle of the river, scouts lowered a small vessel into the waters, turned the boat towards an orchard like opening of the jungle, they were to search for tribal members, and return to the ship with the information, where they were now, how many of them were useful as slaves. In the meantime the Captain and his crew remained waiting onboard.

In those days, the chief of the Ashaninka kept a look out for the ships. They knew what the Colonists were contemplating, and of course the ship was taller than anything in sight and filled a good portion of the center of the river, and it was of course a symbolical threat once seen. And on this hot summer’s day, it was seen by the chief, and his bodyguards.

The path the chief and his bodyguards were on came out on to the top of a hill; there they prayed that none of their kind would be kidnapped into slavery this day.

The scouts from the ship looked about spent quite a lot of their time trying to find stragglers, or the tribe itself, but they saw nothing, nothing but massive trees which shaded them from the hot sun, and would condemn them as they rested and fell to sleep, and when they awoke and went back to inform their captain of their fruitless search, they noticed suddenly the ship was gone. Refusing to believe the ship and its crew, and its captain could have left so anonymously, they moved about, but the only thing they found was a rock island mound in the middle of the river, that wasn’t there before, it resided where the ship had been anchored.

It was a brown structure, likened to the ship itself in design and some details, as if it was melted down from wood to soft stone, somewhat circular dimensions, the rock island being the same size of the ship, which was now covered with large ants, running about.

The Chief, now looking down from the top of the hill, could see the newly formed mound, and the three scouts standing on it, in disarray, he said nothing, just bowed his head.

Written 7-17-2009, in part, at the hotel in Satipo, while visiting the rivers and falls and natives of this Central, Peruvian Jungle

Spanish Version

El Misterio del Barco de Piedra

(Una Legenda de las Selvas de Satipo)

(Avance) Es una construcción de roca muy antigua de color marrón, con una textura arenosa, similar al tamaño de un barco del siglo diecisiete, éste reside en el medio del río Perene, en la Selva Central de Peru, en la ciudad llamada Satipo. Profundo dentro de la selva, cerca de esta construcción de piedra, vive una tribu de nativos llamada ‘Los Ashaninka’, descendientes de los primeros nativos llamados ‘Los Arawak’…Yo he visitado una tribu Ashaninka, ellos son personas pacíficas muy cordiales y muy creativos en las artes. Y ahora la leyenda…:

Durante los sangrientos y terribles años 1600s, los llamados colonos con sus barcos de esclavos, buscaban a los nativos Ashaninkas para esclavizarlos y venderlos al mejor postor en los mercados de Lima y Huancayo, y en otras partes de Perú, así como también en otras ciudades de Sudamérica. Los colonos, fríos e inhumanos, atascaban a esta gente pacífica en el interior de los barcos, era completamente cuerpo con cuerpo. Las repercusiones de estos años trajeron un número de víctimas, los colonos habían vejado esta tierra, como el fuego en pasto seco, de sus masas, poniéndolos en la esclavitud. Estos nativos insultados, asustados, ninguno de ellos retornaron a sus tribus. Los colonos mantenían su recurrente aumento, manteniendo la carne esclava en el hueco del barco, con viciado aliento mortal y alrededores putrefactos, muchos morían en el camino al mercado, siendo luego tirados sobre la popa del barco para que, una vez muertos, los peces y los buitres se los comieran.

Pero un día dado, algo tomó lugar que se moldearía en una leyenda, algo en que cada colono reflexionaría, y algo, en la que los capitanes de barco lo tomarían siempre en cuenta cuando navegaban por el río Perene, por los alrededores de lo sería llamado-siempre “La Roca del Barco de Piedra”

Era un atroz día caluroso, la lluvia había cesado y el capitán del barco había anclado en el medio del río, así los exploradores habían descendido a pequeños botes en el agua y se dirigían hacia una abertura de la selva, similar a una huerta, ellos iban a buscar a los miembros de las tribus y volverían al barco con la información de dónde se encontraban ahora, cuántos de ellos servirían como esclavos. Mientras tanto el capitán y su tripulación permanecían esperando en el barco.

En aquellos días, el Jefe de los Ashaninkas mantenía guardia sobre los barcos. Ellos, los Ashaninkas, sabían lo que los colonos estaban contemplando; y por supuesto, el barco era más alto que todo lo que se veía a la vista y ocupaba una gran porción en el medio del río, y era por supuesto, una amenaza simbólica una vez visto. Y en este día caluroso de verano, éste fue visto por el Jefe y sus guardaespaldas.

El camino que el Jefe de los Ashaninkas y sus guardaespaldas seguían llegaba a la cúspide de un cerro; allí ellos rezaron para que ninguno de su clase fuera secuestrado en la esclavitud ese día.

Los exploradores del barco miraron alrededor, emplearon bastante de su tiempo tratando de encontrar rezagados, o a la tribu misma, pero no encontraron nada, nada, sólo los árboles masivos que los protegían del sol caluroso y que los condenarían mientras ellos descansaban y se quedaban dormidos. Cuando ellos despertaron y regresaron a informarle a su capitán de su búsqueda infructuosa, ellos notaron repentinamente que el barco no estaba. Negándose a creer que el barco, su tripulación y su capitán podrían haber partido tan secretamente, ellos caminaron alrededor, pero la única cosa que ellos encontraron fue una isla de roca en el medio del río, que no estaba allí antes, ésta estaba donde el capitán había anclado el barco.

Era una construcción marrón, similar al mismo barco en diseño y algunos detalles, como si éste hubiera sido fundido de madera a piedra suave, de dimensiones un tanto circulares, la isla o montículo de roca era del mismo tamaño que el barco y ahora había sido cubierta con hormigas grandes corriendo por todos lados.

El Jefe de la Tribu, ahora mirando hacia abajo desde la cima del cerro podía ver al recientemente montículo formado y a los tres exploradores parados sobre éste en desconcierto; él no dijo nada, sólo inclinó su cabeza.

Escrito en parte el 17 de Julio del 2009, en un hotel en Satipo, mientras visitaba las cataratas y a los nativos de la Selva Central, en Perú.