Tabatinga. It´s amazing what you can get used to here in Latin America. At first, the sight of entire families on the back of a motorbike (overwhelmingly the most popular form of transport here) is somewhat unnerving. Dad is usually driving with a toddler between his legs - sometimes holding on, sometimes not. Mum generally sits behind with either a younger sibling, baby or bun in the oven. The parents wear helmets, they have to by law. The kids, however, drive along unsecured with no protection for their heads. The streets are wet and often muddy creating a treacherous surface. After a while, as with all things, this sight becomes normal to my eyes. I see no accidents. Only every now and then do I contrast this with the sometimes excessive levels of health and safety that have permeated British society. I reckon there´s a happy medium somewhere between the two.
I can tell I´m in another country from the different mix of people on the streets. Here there are far more Haitians, presumably fleeing troubled times on their island. From the documentaries I´ve seen there are still serious problems there following the 2010 earthquake. It makes me ponder what it would be like to be forced into a nomadic life. Constantly on the move trying to find food, shelter, work, community, safety. I count my blessings.
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