Traveling has always been a way for me to live new experiences, seek adventure, and ultimately discover cultures vastly different from my own. At the same time—and hopefully by the end of each journey—I aim to contribute however possible to help people and their surroundings flourish for the better.

This story is not only dear to my heart but also represents a profound learning experience—an eye-opening encounter with an unusual, almost orthodox way of life taking place simultaneously to mine back home. Illustrated by my photographs, it reflects a genuine human connection with one of the communities in Pacaya Samiria village, located on the banks of the main Amazon tributary, the Ucayali River.

It all began with an unexpected decision to fly to Iquitos from Cusco. That very day was unique. My soulmate Kalinka and I were welcomed by our friends Anna and Alberto, whom we met while staying on Taquile Island. Had anyone told me beforehand that, in just one day, we would use completely different modes of transport—plane, minivan, motorbike, and finally a four-hour ride on a traditional Amazonian boat—I wouldn't have believed we’d have the energy to handle such a long, exhausting journey! Yet the excitement of discovering the unknown, especially in the Amazon, pumps your adrenaline enough to push the limits of what seems impossible.

Arriving at the Buenos Aires community (Pacaya Samiria village) felt like a well-deserved victory. There’s no better way to celebrate than sitting around the dinner table with loved ones and the host family who kindly prepared a meal upon our arrival. While enjoying the simple, naturally organic dinner lit by a few candles, we shared deep conversations that brought us close to the family from the very first night. I can't thank enough my dear friend Kalinka, who made communicating with the locals smooth and joyful.

I still remember how our talks were occasionally interrupted—or accompanied—by the rich, strange, and diverse sounds of the forest’s wildlife. It felt like the first message that we were about to spend our first night deep within the Amazon jungle.

Eventually, sleep quietly settled in, confirming the exhausting day we had endured. We laid out sheets on the wooden floor, set up mosquito nets, and called it a night.

In contrast to the nighttime sounds of nature, the early morning brought a lively and social atmosphere. Waking up to the laughter and voices of many children made us eager to take down the mosquito nets and join their activities. But before anything else, we needed to go to the river to brush our teeth and wash our faces.

That day, we were set to embark on a long excursion along the Ucayali, deep inside the rainforest. Luckily, we had a couple of free hours before the trip. I wandered through the village to learn more about the surroundings and the community’s way of life. The first striking impression was that most houses were open—literally no walls enclosing the interiors. Given the hot and humid climate locals endure year-round, it made sense. Still, somehow it gave the impression that the whole village was one big family, further bonding the community together.

Although my initial intention was to explore the Amazonian wildlife, the few hours spent in the village already captivated me. Now, I was keen on spending more time with the locals.

Eventually, I had to join my friends on the boat to begin our journey deeper into the Amazon jungle. That first day left me speechless, amazed by the mesmerizing biodiversity of such a wild place! Yet my mind was also eagerly looking forward to returning to the Buenos Aires community. During the trip, I found myself thinking about all the children playing freely in the vast green fields. Several questions began popping into my head: Do they go to school? If so, where? What are their chances of accessing higher education from such a remote place?

When our boat finally touched the village shore, marking the end of the first day, the children greeted us with smiles and excitement—they were eager to satisfy their curiosity by playing with the “gadgets” we carried, including my camera, which proved perfect for gaining their trust.

In a place where children’s games are made from tree branches, stones, and any plastic container they find, our cameras, phones, iPads, and Kalinka’s ukulele were magical and fascinating toys in their eyes.

I was thrilled to have the chance to stay with local families, share their customary food, relax in the same hammocks, sleep on the same floors, and experience their everyday challenges.

This was the ideal setting for me to seek answers to the questions swirling in my mind. Just a few conversations that evening revealed the existence of an abandoned school located only a few meters from the house we stayed in.

The school, meant to be the only gateway for the children of Buenos Aires to explore the world, was tragically neglected. The educators entrusted to care for the school—who should see it as their second home and the pathway for children’s brighter futures—lacked the courage or awareness of the impact of their sacrifices. Instead, they chose to cheat and deceive their government by not showing up at school, using excuses like harsh forest conditions, the long distance to the village, and lack of logistics.

Our guide confirmed that these teachers only came once a week to sign attendance papers as if they had been there the entire time—betraying the energetic, knowledge-hungry children.

Kalinka and I visited one of the classrooms on our last day. To our surprise, the children were waiting, excited to show us their space—a proudly transformed area that serves as a covered playground when it rains heavily.

The day eventually came to say goodbye to the family and freeze one last moment with the children, hoping that one day, their school will be restored, vibrant, and running.

My time with the Buenos Aires community was contemplative. Swinging slowly in the hammock, I reflected on the breathtaking view that surrounded us—an endless sea of trees, wild forest, nature’s sounds, children’s laughter, and the resilient diligence of the locals—a life improbable and unimaginable, yet deeply enriching, far removed from the material world I had left behind.

Snapshots of Hope: Amazonian Children and a School on Pause

The Isolated floating town of Belen