Everyday the route has the same pattern. We walk first through the shopping street to collect the carton of the shops.
Teresa, who is small and has a very charming face, walks into the shops and begs for used carton. One hour later the big sandbag, connected to Fidels cart, is already half-filled.
Around seven oclock the people start slowly to put their garbage on the street. We walk into the residential streets of the neighbourhood.
"I dont open every bag I see," says Fidel. "I have my apartment buildings, my contacts with the door-keepers. They put the garbage on the street when we are waiting in front of their doors."
And every day I join Fidel and Teresa there is that penetrating smell of trash. Stoically, in the meanwhile staring at Fidel, I put my hand in a bag and try to find carton. I feel moist materials but I dont find a piece of paper. "You do it wrong," says Fidel laughing at me. "Use your eyes, you have to look first through the bag!"