When entering Peru already almost we felt in house, and an air to triumph soaked to us, we were managing what for much people it was impossible, to unite Panama and Chile WITHOUT a WEIGHT.
The desert was again our route, the truck drivers demanded something of money to take us who we offered thanks to the dollars of Don Daniel. We traveled several sections on the load, moored bicis and the three we embraced ourselves not to fall to us. The wind cooled to us and we shivered. Since the shelter clothes we had changed it by food previously...

The house of the Cyclist

At midnight a truck I leave us in the Trujillos, with something of fear pedaleamos by the city in search of the "House of the Cyclist". A gentleman I approach to us and it guided to us house of I fight, avoiding that we were assaulted; I fight, Araceli and Angelita, after an enormous surprise, received that night to us. I fight mimo as much that my papis felt jealousy, we ed ***reflx mng ourselves much and we shared one week of I relax and desserts accompanied by a pair of American cyclists. The game was in company of I fight no longer so sad so that we were but near house.

I do not want that they pass more hunger

After moving away 100 km to us of Trujillo, a pair of trucks approached to us Lima, in the outskirts, sucks was I aim of being run over by an imprudent taxi.

A very special truck, I number 36 of our return, directed to us towards the south of Peru. After traveling with the driver more than 24 hours in the cabin, we had the pleasure to know the owner of the truck with which we shared hours more. I listen to our stories with much interest, and emocionadamente it said to him to my father with tears in the eyes: "I do not want that they happen but hunger with whichever money arrive at Chile"

My parents shamed by our precarious situation and been thankful by the generous supply responded to him that 100 suns we crossed the border (that we believed). We did not wait for a so generous aid but in this region where enemistades that still lasts between Peruvian and Chilean vanished before a so human gesture.

The smile returned to the face from my papis and I gladly shook my tail.
In Ica a signal of good luck I already illuminate to us.

Bus to Chile

We crossed ourselves the only Chilean bus that travels once to Lima per week, my father stopped it and briefly it told our history him, the incredulous driver, said to him that in 24 hours they would happen that way in his return to Chile. and it offered to us that if the full bus venia could not take to us of return by the 100 suns that so generously we had received.

Impatiently we waited for those 24 hours. A boy of the zone humbly supplied to us reason why little that we had left, we impelled by the generosity samples that we had received, almost #***aed-refl mng them without suspecting what but late we found out. The small one which it haggled over us by our possessions was son of a millionaire.