Moyobamba, Peru is known as the city of orchids, but to me it will forever remain the city of lost dogs. The homeless dog population here is staggering, and on the rainy morning of September 22nd this was especially apparent, as my hired motokar rattled past a forlorn mutt at nearly every other doorstep, halfheartedly awaiting invitation into the warm, away from the cold and the wet.

I spent nearly two weeks here in the capital of the San Marin region, enjoying the humid Amazonian springtime, conducting an after-school art workshop and painting a mural in the nearby town of Yantaló. Yantaló is a small town about 30 minutes out of Moyobamba [15 by motorcycle, if you're willing to make due without a helmet and your driver is good], flanked by idyllic rice fields, lush, gorgeous jungle, blankets of fluffy clouds [the elevation is roughly 3,000 feet] and the solitary mountain I didn’t have a chance to climb, El Morro.

I’ve heard Yantaló called a village, but having visited I’d now say that’s not true, at least not anymore. Though the roads are largely unpaved and shoes are optional, though bony cows can be seen idling nonchalantly every few blocks and herds of assorted poultry roam like kings surveying their territory, there is no denying that Yantaló is steadily evolving into a town. Its police station, school, government-owned medical office, two restaurants and small market will soon be joined by a brand new green hospital, a women’s community center, and, hopefully, an after-school program for kids. All this thanks to the efforts of the Yantaló Peru Foundation, a tireless, inspiring organization I’ll talk about in my next article, that’s been striving to improve the local quality of life since 2005.

Life here is simple, but not easy. The cocks crow morning well before sunrise and Yantaló awakens to a day that for many of its residents predominantly consists of farming and gathering wood. Some folks ride into Moyobamba for work since, for now, there are almost no salaried jobs available. Here, too, hungry dogs wander in and out of homes and businesses in search of home and hearth. Water, clean and otherwise, remains a commodity. Still, the people are remarkably kind – even to a gringa with azure hair, kids go to school, new construction sites are beginning to spring up across the land and, as of a few months ago, a brand new asphalt road stretches from Yantaló to Moyobamba, making that 30-minute ride feel like no time at all.

This was my first trip here, and my sense of satisfaction with the work completed is trumped by how very much more there is to be done. On our last day in Moyo, as the locals call it, my friends and I duck into a market to stock up on Peruvian candy and into a bakery, to pick up a croissant-wrapped sausage for a beautiful, sad-eyed dog that’s been trailing us for at least eight blocks. From here it’s a bumpy three-hour car ride to Tarapoto, a short flight to Lima, another to Miami and, finally, back to the concrete jungle of Los Angeles, where we’ll spend the next year planning our return to Yantaló.

Words and photos by Zoetica Ebb