Late morning on the final day aboard the Cabo Pantoja feels oddly like the last day of junior high in mid-May. For one thing, the sky is empty of clouds and the sun is out for the first time since we left Iquitos. There are only about fifteen passengers left on the top deck and, like the last day of school, there is an atmosphere of pleasant finality. Everyone is taking down hammocks, repacking bags, and getting ready to depart at one of the last few villages. With a good chunk of floor space opened up, kids are running around and [View Full Entry]

---

---

On the fourth day, the grey, marbled blanket of clouds is still there and stretches out over the Napo sky. The jungle scene is still there and drifts past our field of view. At times, the series of tree clusters and small coves seems to be an exact repeat of what we saw not two hours before. It reminds me of some 60's Saturday morning cartoon where the animators reuse the same strip of five buildings over and over in the background while characters zoom along in a car. I am Fred Flintstone in God's own low-budget creation. But that [View Full Entry]

---

---

Rosencrantz: "We're on a boat." Guildenstern: "I know." Rosencrantz: "Do you think Death could possibly be a boat?" Guildenstern: "No, no, no. Death is not. Death isn't. Take my meaning? Death is the ultimate negative. Not being. You can't not be on a boat." Rosencrantz: "I've frequently not been on boats." Guildenstern: "No, no. What you've been is not on boats." Rosencrantz: "I wish I was dead. I could jump over the side. That'll put a spoke in their wheel!" Guildenstern: "Unless they're counting on it." Rosencrantz: "I shall remain on board. That'll put a spoke in their wheel! [View Full Entry]

---

---

Out of the Jungle In the morning, we have a breakfast of scrambled eggs and bread. Luis and I each have a tall glass of limeade as per the shaman's instructions. Later, after a failed attempt to search for pink dolphins in the Amazon with the Italians, we gather up our things and board the speed boat back to Iquitos. No one talks much on the trip. Luis and I mostly just stare out at the passing jungle - lost in thought. "Dammit!" I say, breaking the silence at one point. "What?" asks Luis. "Got a mosquito bite on my pinky [View Full Entry]

---

---

Psychotropics in the Tropics One of the guides, Luis, Peter, and I get into one of the longer canoes - this one equipped with a small motor. We cruise up the narrow river away from the Amazon. Half an hour later, we tether to a small wooden dock and climb out. In front of us on the bank of the river is another small village. This one has a large clearing in the center - a sort of grassy village square where some children are kicking a soccer ball back and forth. Extending from either side of the clearing along [View Full Entry]

---

---

"Tienen linternas?" asks the girl. "Unh?" I reply, rubbing the dry mucus of sleep from my left eye. It's 8:30 in the morning. I don't speak proper Spanish until a full hour of morning consciousness has elapsed. A cup of coffee helps, too. "You have flashlights?" the girl repeats in English. This is Magaly - a girl we have seen working back and forth between here - the tour agency office - and the hotel. I think back to Colca Canyon where Ross, Anna, and I contemplated climbing the wall of a canyon without the assistance of artificial light in [View Full Entry]

---

---

With my chin in my right hand, and my elbow on the armrest, I lean out over the aisle and stare down the fuselage of the Airbus A318 - bored witless. I look over to my left at Luis. He is gazing blankly at the back of the seat in front of him and pinching at his lower lip with his thumb and forefinger. He looks at me with an expression of mild concern. "Will they have ceviche in Iquitos?" I laugh. Thank God for the Spanish love of seafood. In my experience, Madrileños are usually pretty reluctant to try [View Full Entry]

---

---

Goal #3 - Bragging Rights I spend most of the week on the patio with my laptop - typing away. I keep a steady stream of coffee running through my bloodstream to maintain focus. But sometimes I switch out the coffee for a liter of Inca Kola. Inca Kola is considered the national soft drink of Perú. It began in the mid-1930's when a Peruvian (José Lindley) born of English immigrant parents began experimenting with lemon verbena - a perennial shrub native to parts of South America. The beverage was instantly popular. For most of the rest of the century, Perú [View Full Entry]

---

---

Saturday After a 16-hour night bus ride from Cuzco, I arrive in the Peruvian capital of Lima at around 11am on a Saturday morning. I plan to be here for about a week. Most backpackers cringe at the thought of spending so much time in this city. The weather is dreary, the local beaches are crap, crime is rampant, and there aren't really a lot of sites to see. But I spent two weeks here several years ago, and happen to know that the city can be tremendous fun if you know the right people and where to go. Unfortunately, I'm [View Full Entry]

---

---

Uca Pacha - The Snake - The Underworld At the base of the group of mountains that guard the ancient city of Machu Picchu is the small town of Aguas Calientes. The most direct way to get there from the city of Cuzco is by train. The word "direct" implies simplicity, but this is hardly the case. The area around Machu Picchu is known as the Sacred Valley - a rugged and elusive part of the Andes. In fact, the region is so isolated that the Spanish conquistadores never found Machu Picchu. It was not discovered by the Western world until [View Full Entry]

---

---