Proud Colombian Amazon and Horse Waiting to Lead Bullfighters into the Ring

Colombia. Cali. Waiting to lead bullfighters into the ring, this amazon left the mark of her lips on her horse’s face.

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Colombie. Cali. Une  amazone attend le moment de prendre place à la tête du cortège de toréadors qui entrera à l’arène. Elle a marqué de ses lèvres la joue du cheval qu'elle montera.

If You Can't Move A Sheep, Carry It.

Bolivia. Near Potosi. Quechua Indians carrying sheep to market.

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A Bolivian Andean Slope is no Match for a Man in Love

A Fleeting Moment

     In 1971, I spent seven months traveling around Latin America, from Mexico

to Argentina and Brazil. At some point, pressed among a crowd of Indians at

the back of a dilapidated bus, my itinerary was taking me from Ayacucho to

Cuzco, in the Peruvian Andes. Holes and stones in the unpaved road shook

the bus in a cloud of dust, and a pot flew off the roof.  The driver stopped, and

a passenger ran to pick up the pot.

      Less than a minute earlier, I caught sight of a little girl sitting by herself along

the road, and could have cried with frustration for being unable to photograph her.

The flying pot was a miracle. The bus’s central aisle was crowded with people sitting

on bundles, but I scrambled over them toward the door, just as the passenger was

returning with the pot.

     “Where are you going?” the driver shouted."

     “To urinate,” I lied, almost unconsciously.

And I ran with a Leica in hand.

     “This is not the moment!” the driver yelled.

     “But what the devil are you doing? Come back!

     “…All right. Stay here and wait for tomorrow’s bus.”

And having said that, he pulled off.

     My luggage and most of my film was on that bus, but I refused to worry

about them just then. I shot three quick pictures, gave the little girl a bag of avocado

pears I carried in my camera bag, and ran back. The bus was far already,

but not going very fast, and I was a runner. Even so, my heart was in my

mouth by the time I got back on board.

     The driver shrank in his seat, but the Indians applauded. For a moment I stared at the driver wondering what to tell him. But I kept my mouth shut and went back to my seat.  It had occurred to me that for a small tip this man would have given me all the time I needed. That lesson would serve me well on future occasions

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Children of South America

I just uploaded 200 pictures of South American children into six galleries. The first three galleries have the best pictures.
Whether the kids are dirty or clean, you will wish that you could hug them. They will melt your heart. To view them, go to http://pa.photoshelter.com/c/victorenglebert, click on galleries, then on Collections, and finally on Children of South America.
Because the Peru and Colombia galleries have more than 50 pictures, the rest of them are hiding on a second page. Just click on the button at the bottom of the page to see it.
Anyway, hereafter are some sample pictures to titillate your interest.

Other website: http://Victorenglebert.com

Cursed in Peru

South America is my favorite continent. Venezuela, Colombia, Ecuador, Peru, Bolivia, Chile, Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, I have visited them all, and all of them repeatedly. In many ways they are as different from each other as they are, in other ways, similar. Grandiose and varied landscapes, warm-hearted people, fascinating cultures, archaeology, they have them all, each in their own way.

Except for Colombia and Ecuador, Peru is the one I know best. I have travelled to Peru so many times since 1971 that I could not say how many if my life depended on it. I was there last in June 2007, when covering the pre-Inca Chachapoya culture for Archaeology magazine (Archaeology January-February 2008).

The number, variety, and grandeur of Peru’s archaeological sites have no match on the continent. And with Argentina, it also has the best food. I have eaten well there even in the most remote villages. So I was rather surprised the morning that an old lady in black served me dirty milk in a big grubby bowl.

I had spent the night on her farm while traveling horseback across parts of the Andes Mountains with a Morochuco cattle herder to guide me cross-country. He had lost his way, and when we had asked the old lady for help, she had told us to wait until the next morning, when her nephew would guide us out of there. It was late anyway.

The woman had served my friend a much smaller bowl of dirty milk, and as hot milk nauseates me, and my friend Jose could never get enough of it, I had suggested that we exchange bowls. That had enraged the woman, who had thrown us out and cursed me.

“Uneducated Gringo!” she shouted as Jose and I rode away, “May you get lost, suffer scorching thirst, and meet bandits.” Curiously, all her wishes came through within a few days.

To read the story, please go to my website (www.victorenglebert.com), and read the article titled (how else?) Cursed.