I Predict a Riot..

There´s never a dull moment in Peru. Just when I thought I had gotten over the culture shock, (I´m not fazed by the sight of alpacas meandering in and out of traffic and children not knowing about hand washing seems normal, then I try and go to work this morning. I have killed my cold off and was raring to go. Myself and 2 American buddies were surprised when the first Combi passed us packed to the gills. So packed that they didn´t allow any more people on, which in Combi terms is equivalent to squeezing the contents of a double decker bus into a Mini. When the next two passed, similarly full we smelt a rat. Then they stopped coming at all. We debated briefly about getting a taxi but our query of "Ultimo parada for Santa Ana Combi?" drew a blank face from a taxi man so we elected to wait patiently. After half an hour out of the blue we found ourselves spectators to a student protest. Out of nowhere about 50-60 young kids marched on the streets banging a steel drum and shouting. A stray bus happened to be going past and they immediately set upon it kicking the doors and threw a brick in the back window until it turned around. Then they merrily set upon another one, smiling all the time as if they were going to a rock concert. My American friends wished they had cameras, ("Dude this is awsome!")I was glad they didn´t as three westerners stuck out enough in the area we live in. Local people stood curiously but unworried outside their shops watching the morning entertainment. There were no sign of the police, except for one guy who ran past twice holding what seemed to be a small rocket launcher, looking like Wiley Cyotoe realising the Road Runner had duped him again. We made our way to the Volunteer centre and found out that the protest was against the increasing cost of services and the combis were supposed to be on strike so we had the morning off. (The cost of a Combi ride is about 15 cents). As we walked back home, the main street was blocked off and I heard a voice through a loudspeaker getting louder and louder. Expecting to see a wall of police shouting instructions, I turned and instead an elderly man cycled slowly past me, a barrow of papayas and oranges in front, with a loudspeaker hoisted precariously high above the handlebars advertising his wares. Strange but true.