The long road home
I look at my watch. It’s 1:30 in the afternoon. We’ve been on the cratered dirt road between Tarapoto and Pucallpa for 13 hours now, only 12 more to go.
I am amused as I remember being a small child and going on a trip to visit my cousins in Maine. When we drove for over an hour into the northern wilderness on a dirt road, I thought we were the next Lewis and Clark expedition. I had never seen so much dirt road in my life.
This afternoon I’m smushed between Ryan and Jackson in the backseat. They are both hot and sweaty, as if they have fevers, and they are very smelly. I sit in the middle because my legs are the shortest, and we hardly have any leg room anyway.
The road is very bumpy, and although we don’t say much, we are all more than a little grumpy.
Jenni and her mom, who is visting us for a month, share the front seat. Doctor is driving. Jenni has a new unnamed kitten who is crawling all over them and we have to keep stopping so the kitten can pee outside or drink its milk without spilling it all over the truck.
Jackson has this big old market bag that he holds on his lap, full of stuff—waterbottles, an airplane blanket, a jar of peanut butter, snacks, a magazine, a jacket. We’ve been making fun of him because we only have a book or two and our wallets with us, but he has to have this grandmother sized bag of all his security items.
When we stop at a police checkpoint a little lady runs up to the car window and I buy four chupetes for the backseat and the doctor. Jenni and her mom purchase chifles (deep fried platano chips), instead. The lady has either aguaje or coco chupetes. You already know how we feel about aguaje; all of us go for the coco instead.
Chupetes are popsicles of fresh fruit frozen in tall skinny plastic bags. To eat them you bite off one corner of the plastic and suck out the juice. The coco ones are made from fresh coconut shavings, milk, and honey. I buy four chupetes for a sol, which is about 30 cents in the US. The chupetes cheer us up.
I am amused as I remember being a small child and going on a trip to visit my cousins in Maine. When we drove for over an hour into the northern wilderness on a dirt road, I thought we were the next Lewis and Clark expedition. I had never seen so much dirt road in my life.
This afternoon I’m smushed between Ryan and Jackson in the backseat. They are both hot and sweaty, as if they have fevers, and they are very smelly. I sit in the middle because my legs are the shortest, and we hardly have any leg room anyway.
The road is very bumpy, and although we don’t say much, we are all more than a little grumpy.
Jenni and her mom, who is visting us for a month, share the front seat. Doctor is driving. Jenni has a new unnamed kitten who is crawling all over them and we have to keep stopping so the kitten can pee outside or drink its milk without spilling it all over the truck.
Jackson has this big old market bag that he holds on his lap, full of stuff—waterbottles, an airplane blanket, a jar of peanut butter, snacks, a magazine, a jacket. We’ve been making fun of him because we only have a book or two and our wallets with us, but he has to have this grandmother sized bag of all his security items.
When we stop at a police checkpoint a little lady runs up to the car window and I buy four chupetes for the backseat and the doctor. Jenni and her mom purchase chifles (deep fried platano chips), instead. The lady has either aguaje or coco chupetes. You already know how we feel about aguaje; all of us go for the coco instead.
Chupetes are popsicles of fresh fruit frozen in tall skinny plastic bags. To eat them you bite off one corner of the plastic and suck out the juice. The coco ones are made from fresh coconut shavings, milk, and honey. I buy four chupetes for a sol, which is about 30 cents in the US. The chupetes cheer us up.
posted by Ansley at 11:10 AM
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