I heard a voice, my voice actually, suddenly coming loud from the back of the crowded "Combi" mini-van: "Don't you have any Peruvian music?! There's no melody, no meaning, NO HAY CORAZON -- no heart! Silence would be better!" A few passengers turned  toward me with understanding expressions and I continued, to the lady next to me --"There are a half dozen styles of beautiful traditional music in Peru, flute and charango, harp, violin ... wonderful traditions".

   The driver set a mechanical "scan" to work or flipped stations himself a dozen times or more -- no help. Back to the first of several spots of mind-dulling "rap" and other semi-music. Several strings of words spoken fast and without emotion alternating with short repetitive primitive melody cuts.  Some kind of a necessary "entertainment" or "relaxation" that "everybody" wants -- in his mind, I'm sure.

   The air became oppressive, hot, without much oxygen finally as the drive wore on through the second hour. No windows open. No wonder so many people sleep on these vans and buses. Suspended animation. I didn 't feel like making another issue.

   The driver pulled out suddenly to pass. I couldn't see anything of the traffic in front, past the people in the completely-full van. But a tiny flash came to my mind -- was that a bit of memoiry from an intuition or dream, something about a car wreck? It passed right away, there was only a flimsy suggestion, and right then the driver slammed on the brakes and pulled back behind whatever he had wanted to pass.Hmmm. Any connection?

   It occurred to me, my own part in the little non-happening. It had been awhile, but -- it could be -- my comments about the shit"music" had distracted the driver. How much affect did it still have on his mind and his concentration?

    As we got to Curahuasi and I had my pack on and two bundles in hand, and the driver finished handing baggage to the last passenger, I tried to communicate a simple observation to him. Something about what might it mean -- that there is not a single bit of traditional Peruvian music on all the radio stations -- in CUSCO of all places! The "NAVEL" of America! "CULTURE CENTER" of the Western Hemisphere!

   As I began to speak -- not angriily or anything, just a simple "what do you think it means" bit of a conversation -- he had turned away immediately and headed back to the driver's seat. He thought he knew what I was going to say? He "didn't have time"?

I followed immediately, determined to make my little comment. A semi-truck steamed past several feet to the side as he pointed it out to me with a stern warning, as if I liked to step in front of large speeding trucks. I continued as he shut the door and prepared to leave, speaking loud through the window, which was half-open now -- "There is no such thing as coincidence! Why do YOU think there is not a bit of your wonderful traditional music on a single radio station in CUSCO of all places?"