The traffic is normal.  The smoke, not so much.

Me: Hey there Mr. policía.  Good afternoon.  Sorry to interupt whatever it is you're doing on your cell phone, but I was wondering if you could tell me where is the smoke coming from?
He looks up: Oh that?  They're probably just burning trash.
Looks back down at his cell.
Me:  Really?  Looks worrisome.
Another officer overhears, hops on his motorcycle and zooms off to check it out.
Mr. Cellphone turns to assure me that they'll have a look....and then after a double-take, he begins:  Well hello there!  Good afternoon.  How are you?  Where from?  Living around here?  What do you do?....
Oh great.  Is this really worth sticking around for just to find out where the smoke is coming from?  Probably not.  But heck I don't have anywhere to be for a while.
He continues for another 10 minutes:  Now you have to be careful living around here.  Very dangerous.  Many delinquents.  Are you married?  Well why not?  Think you will marry a Peruvian?...
His partner receives an urgent walkie talkie message from inside the police truck and interrupts our delightful conversation.  The man's eyes grew:  Fire?  Fire!
He mumbles something like "Excuse, must go now" while doing a 360º spin until he finds the entrance to his vehicle and shoots off with the sirens blaring.
Dangerous neighborhood?  I wonder why?

As we were walking back to the Bethesda clinic Thursday after lunch, there was a young mom waiting for us patiently on the curb in front of our temporarily closed doors.  I had never seen her before.  She was guarding her right wrist.
"What happened?" I asked, taking a closer look at how red, swollen and deformed it was.
"I fell, 16 days ago, in the market."
"Still hurt?"
"Very much."  She jumped when I manipulated it.
"Why didn't you go to the hospital?" (You know, to ONE of the TWO small hospitals in this county of over a MILLION people?)
"I did.  They told me to make an appointment.  There weren't any openings until three weeks later."
"The x-rays didn't show any fractures?"  Her eyes grew big.
"I can't get an order for x-rays until my appointment, which isn't for another week.  You do x-rays here?"  I wish we did.  Maybe next year we'll have those capabilities.  I was kind of appalled that this poor girl suffered so long with such an easily treatable injury just because it wasn't considered an emergency to whoever triaged her at the hospital.  Don't bones ossify?  Now she'll probably have to re-break the bones in order to have them set correctly.  
I asked our Peruvian doctor, "Is this really the way things are done in Peru?"
Embarrassed nod.
"Is it because she's uninsured?"
"Actually if you have insurance, it takes even longer to be seen."
"Really?  Now what would you do if it were your wife?"
"I'd have to call a colleague."
Backwards.  We did write her an order, free of charge, to go get x-rays taken.  Stuff like this continually reminds me to pray for our mission hospital to be complete.  If you or anyone you know is interested in giving to our campaign fund to help us finish the hospital, Peruvians like this woman can have a place to go and receive the help they need.