The Volvo truck drops me off at San Simon junction. From there I walk steadily intro an increasingly forested road. My backpack also gets used to the new tropical fauna.
A pick up gives me a ride as far as Timboy town, where I am invited lunch by this group of kind drunken locals who were regreting the death of a relative who had been striken by a bolt and also blaming one of them for marrying a girl with the only aim of inheriting her father's timber properties.
I then continued walking and stumbled upon Ñaurenda, a Guarani community, and stayed two days to learn a bit of their language, enjoy a traditional celebration and aso have the chance of making one of my educational events and photo slides.
Artisans at work. Women stay in the porches of their houses most of the day when they are not busy inside.
Traditional dances. Note the tipoi, long traditional dresses wore by women.
Cuchi or boiled pork. It was a special celebration during which the Guarani chose a nick for me. They explained me that these nicks represent their first impression of each person. So mine was "burya wata". What does it mean? - I asked. "Long trip" - they said!
Honoured by the Guarani nickname granted to me I set to walk again. It was the day of my 32th birthday. I had nothing to celebrate except a can of tuna fish and a crispy bread. IN the early morning the people from Ñaurenda had invited me breakfast. There I go, on my slow way to Monteagudo.
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