Ancash, Peru 1987

The most out of the way place we went to was to a village called Colcabamba. It was in a valley in the mountainous Ancash region. To get there we had to hitch of lift on the back of a pickup truck full of drunk men. (Pissed on pisco.See third extra) The truck dropped us off at the head of a mule track which led down to the village. We knew from our guide book that there was a lady who accomodated travellers. There was no running water apart from a stream and no electricity. We ate by candle light while the tearful lady told us how much she missed her husband who had recently passed away. We slept on straw filled mattresses, but felt deprived of nothing.
  
On the first morning I went for a little hike along the side of the valley. I saw these two children on a higher path. I don’t think they knew what to make of me. (See first extra). They came down and without the benifit of a common language we somehow had an amazing conversation. (They were Quechua speaking, not Spanish speaking.) The lad wanted to take a photo of me, so I said: “Make sure you get me all in.” (Second extra.) Somehow it never occurred to me to send these photos back to the village. Now I feel like a bit of a heel for not giving a bit more back.