When I was in Ecuador, I was able to reach a remote settlement, where the Indians live according to age-old tradition. Families functioned consistently for thousands of years, although after the first contact with the white man a few decades ago, the reality has slowly been changing. However, the method of building homes and the way of life have not changed at all. In long huts, in which several generations of the same family live together, people sleep on woven hammocks and cook on a red-hot fire. Young women take care of children and work on crops (they have learned agriculture from the missionaries). Men spend their time hunting and clearing the jungle, while an elderly woman remains in the hut to cook dinner for everyone.

I walked through Sarnath, a holy place for Buddhists in India. Among the crowd of pilgrims crossing the street, I noticed a couple of children sitting in the street. They were eating naan and one of them cried, unable to get its due portion. The kids looked desperately, but no one paid any attention. People passed them mindlessly, busy with their religious experiences.

While in Madagascar, I have been traveling the river for several days. I started rafting in one of the towns where I packed all the necessary things onto a boat, which would soon serve me for a home. Residents gathered along the coast, extremely interested in the ongoing preparations. They offered all kinds of help, advice and when it was time to start the expedition, warmly said goodbye to me.

An Argentinean town situated right on the border with Bolivia, a little Indian girl sat in the market square. Like other residents, she was dressed in traditional folk costume. She stared into the distance thoughtfully, while her mother was selling a beautiful, hand-made doll.