11. The watering trough

When I came to live in Curitiba, there were still three or four municipal troughs. One of them disappeared a few years ago victim of progress and heavy trucks. How much longer will the others resist?

Around the one that livens up Praça da Ordem there is, all day, a ceaseless come and go. From the streets that lead to the little provincial square, light carts of milkmen, bakers, or carroceiros¹ appear in the hurried trot of their horses.

In the morning, it’s also the meeting point of nearby farmers who come to sell their vegetables and fruit in the city. Their carts advance peacefully as it suits country animals. The peasant women, of Polish or Italian descent, chastely hide their legs under a blanket or an old sac.

Around ten in the morning, there is line at the watering trough. The animals abandon with regret this place of delight of which they will dream until the next day.

In the corner of the square, there is a stall of golden bananas to remind us that we are, after all, under the tropics.

1. Wagoners. ​

​