Piura and Rafael

Oh…Piura! Not the prettiest town in Peru. We arrived there around 9 am; we changed some dollars for soles, grabbed some lunch with the two Brazilian guys (Pedro and Marcelo) and shortly, they were on their way.

Rafael and I were going to catch a night bus to Lima, which was 14 hours away. So we went on to buy our bus tickets, when, Rafael learns that the money he received back from a street money-exchange agent was totally fake.

Mmmm, what to do now? I had literary met him a few hours earlier, but this guy was now completely stranded in some random town in the north of Peru with zero money.

His initial plan was to sleep in Tumbes, the town right at the border, and then continue straight to Cuzco, some 40 hours away. But he changed his plans, partly because of me, and that meant I wouldn’t travel all alone for the next day. So I felt party (a very tiny part) responsible. I couldn’t just leave him there. So, I acted like any Colombian in that situation would’ve done. I offered an almost stranger to buy his bus ticket, hoping that he’d be kind enough to return the money.

I quickly learn Rafael is not the planning type and things were not quite going his way these days.

When we got to Lima we walked and bused around for a while, with our heavy packs and without having showered in two days. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t comfortable and it seemed fruitless, because none of his strategies to get money and a place to stay seemed to work.

I was eventually fed up with it and decided to go get myself a hostel and told him to come find me when things were figured out. He gave me his passport as a guarantee that he’d be back with my money that same day.

Again, things didn’t really go his way and I heard nothing from him that day. I had his passport so it gave me some sort of security, but then I remembered he has dual nationality and he could’ve just given up one of his passport for 60 Soles. But would he do that? I didn’t think so. But, where was he then? I had no clue.

As I stood on the balcony of the hostel, writing and wondering if I’d ever see him again, I hear Rafael yell my name form down the street. He had slept in the lobby of an apartment building, still had no money, but now seemed to have a plan.

We decided to part ways again – I wanted to sightsee, he needed to rest – so I returned his passport because he needed two forms of I.D in order to withdraw money form Western Union. Now the only guarantee I had was his good intentions and my gut feeling. I figured I’d go for it. After all this guy had been through in the past couple of days, if he was going to bail, then he was going to bail. But I would trust my instincts and put some faith in humanity.

He promised to be back that night.

Once again, he didn’t show. The next day in the afternoon, I was close to losing all hope. This guy had no cell phone, doesn’t use Facebook or email and all I knew was his name and that he was from Ecuador, heading to Cuzco. That was it. It would’ve been easy for him to bail and just take advantage of the free ride. But I kept hoping he wouldn’t. Not for the money really, but because I didn’t want to feel like a fool for trusting.

Like it has happened several times during this trip, I questioned my idealistic view on life, my almost-naïve perspective and expectations. But I was not worried; whatever was going to happen would happen. I was mentally prepared to lose, but always hoping for he best.

It was dusk and I was not thinking much about the whole ordeal anymore. I’d almost given up. Although obstinately because Rafael seemed like a pretty cool guy and, as always, I expected better from him, as I usually do from people.

Out of nowhere he surprises me form behind in the middle of the streets of Barranco(). He’s showered, rested, had just dropped off the money at my hostel, and was finally on his way to Cuzco, three days later. He thanked me profusely and I couldn’t be more content with the outcome. I not only had my money back, I now considered him a good friend, even better, I had seen goodness in him. The type of goodness I look for in people. And in the end he didn’t let me down.

I was happy to see him and happier to know that there are still people like him in the world. It was good to know that we can still trust. In a world where many are trying to take advantage of you and people’s word seems to have lost value, there is still hope.

That is one of the things I love the most about South America. We have every reason not to trust. Robberies and scams happen all the time, poverty fueled crime is prevalent in our cities. But despite this, we still trust. There is always someone willing to give you a hand. I have been helped along the way during my trip and I have encountered people with nothing (almost literal), but good intentions.

Despite the safety concerns some people have about South America, which are not invalid, this continent is still filled with good-hearted people. I was happy I trusted, and I’d do it again.