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Published: August 20th 2006
Feeling like a Gringo in Peru
MANCORA BEACH, PUIRA, NORTH PERU
GOING TO MANCORA AND COINCIDENCES IN LIMA The day I decided to leave Lima was the day my credit card stopped working. I had to take out money from Western Union and this forced me to stay an extra day longer in Lima that I had planned.
So instead of leaving Lima the day I was supposed to... I ended up spending the day organizing where to go next, instead of just turning up at the bus terminal and deciding from there. I was thinking I will go to Cusco and work my way up North to the jungles, but this would mean that I wouldn’t have time to check out Mancora which is a really cool beach 20 hours North of Lima that my friend suggested to me.
So I spent an hour in a travel agency which is the first time I’ve done this while traveling and the woman gave me some free advice on how to get to places and where to go in the time that I have left.
So after much umms and ahhs, I finally said ok… how
can I get to Mancora from here?
…
The following morning, I left the Loki hostel in Milaflores, Lima and went to the terminal. I was standing at the bus terminal in Lima, ready to leave with my mochilla, which is now only less than 10 kilos 😊 and was thinking about how the only word I know in French was “Merrd” and “fetchalavash”.
Fetchalavash isn’t even a word, these two funny Israelis I met in Buenos Aires used to imitate Monty Python and would repeat one of the lines that was, Fethclavash! Fetchalavash! And for some reason I was standing there with fetchalavash in my head over and over. This could be because I had a big night the night before and was feeling incredibly brain dead at this stage.
I was daydreaming about fetchalavash when I got a tap on the shoulder by a handsome young Frenchman with long curly brown hair a black cowboy hat, big blue eyes and sun freckles and along side him I tilted my head to look up to see his older brother. Gil also very handsome, looks like a cross between French Dave and Samwise Ganji and is
the size of Andre the giant.
Antonio, the younger brother (of only 19!) is one of the owners of the Kenova hostel that I was making my way to. Apparently, he left high school only five months ago and was only going for a three week vacation to Peru, once he got there he decided this is where he belonged and wrote a letter to his school saying so long.
This was a terribly insane coincidence. It was insane that I was thinking about French word when a French guy introduced himself and that this guy, was the guy whose hostel I was on my way to.
What more, is that earlier that day, I had indulged which is strange for me and opted for a full cama seat in the bus (which is a seat that reclines all the way back to make a bed and is only on the bottom level of the bus). When the three of us got onto the bus, we realized that we were all sitting next to each other, seats 4, 5 and 6 we had.
We sat down and watched the film, The Professional which is one of
my favorites, followed by another overplayed tacky film with Steven Segal. (By the way, they always play tacky films on the buses, usually something with Chuck Norris or Steven Segal or something like Rambo III).
We ate a good Chinese dinner on the bus and then I slept for a solid 18-hours straight and it was probably the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time, I didn’t wake up once during the night! Yay for me.
…
FIRST DAY IN MANCORA AT KENOVA HOSTEL We arrived in Mancora Beach and went together to Hostel Kenova that I mentioned before.
The hostel owners Antonio and Luis, own a small hostel on the main strip in Mancora Beach with a small bar out the front. They make food such as crepes and Cerbiche (which is a Peruvian dish of raw fish, chile, onions, lime and corn). There is a red hammock hanging in the bar because there’s no where else to put one and above it are some cool paintings of Asterix the cartoon. There are red torn leather couches in the back outside the rooms where we spent most of our time.
…
My
first impression of the Kenova Hostel was that it was filthy, the showers were cold and there are cigarette butts and empty beer bottles everywhere.
There’s no water, and when there is for the five minutes a day it is cold and smells like sewerage and spurts out in chunks from a garden hose in the wall. I have to light incense every time I use the bathroom to disguise the smell. There is piss and shit in the toilets that haven’t been flushed in days because there is usually no water, it’s stale but still smells just as strong… doesn’t mean you can eat it though.
The shower has a window the size of a letter box slit and makes you feel like you’re in a prison. There is pretty tattoo tribal style artwork on the walls, made by Santiago one of the artisan guys who I met, who works outside the hostel in the markets on the made strip with the other artisans. James Blunt and Cold play are playing very loudly outside my window as I am showering.
…
I mentioned Pei, this Malaysian girl who I met in Arequipa in my last
blog. Pei said to me that I should check out Mancora Beach, North of Peru and go to this hostel and stay with these two owners, which is where I am now. She didn’t tell me anything about it so I assumed it was a decent place. If she has described it as I just did, I wouldn’t have come here.
HOWEVER, now that I am here I don’t want to leave. What they lack in organization they compensate with atmosphere and the fact they make you feel like one of the family.
You can roll in the kitchen and smoke in the courtyard and in the bar, also it a two minute walk to the beach. The owners, Antonio and Luis do everything, from cleaning to cooking to rolling. Antonio makes the best crepes with this special chocolate sauce that he raves about and he prepares it so professionally too.
…
MANCORA BEACH I started the morning by finishing my first blog entry on Puno and Arequipa in Peru for four hours straight in an internet cafe on the main strip here.
I sat typing, looking outside every so often to rest my
Meet Antonio
French owner, Antonio is only 19 and owns Hostel Kenova in Mancora Beach, very cool guy, again only 19..eyes and was noticing new things about this town, slowly I was finally waking up and could see my surroundings for the first time since I arrived here.
Two noisy parrots were hanging and rattling around in a yellow cage at the entrance of the internet cafe, motorcycle taxi’s with attached carts that looked like a coach and buggy were whipping past the doors in front of me.
The main strip had artisans and small shops selling ornaments made from sea shells, mini surfboards, t-shirts, floaties, thin cotton pants and jewelry.
People in sarongs were eyeing the artisans market stalls across the road. The artisans were all Rasta’s with dreads, piercing and tattoos with heavy ornamental tiger teeth hanging from their necks, selling an assortment of hand made crafts and jewelry and making temporary tattoos, braids and dreads.
I walked over to the beach and took off my shoes, the sand was incredibly warm and I realized I haven’t felt warm sand in about six months since I left Sydney and it felt really strange and familiar to me.
I sat down at a nearby restaurant that was conveniently placed on the beach and ordered
fish and an Inca Cola. (Inca Cola is the Peruvians Coke a Cola, its yellow and tastes better though and it’s extremely popular here).
I picked up an ice cream and ate on the beach near the water. A man carrying beautiful handbags came up to me and sold me a gorgeous orange one with Indian designs on it. I bought it from him for 15 sols instead of 20 and he sat with me and we talked in Spanish for a good half an hour.
The beach itself is lines with umbrellas and chairs. Straw and bamboo huts are the restaurants with some palm trees scattered here and there. Kiosk stands on wheels selling ice creams and hamburgers and loads of people.
People are carrying beer bottles as they walk across the beach, men in Speedos kids in towels and hats and loads and loads of people talking in French. For some reason, Peru especially Mancora beach has become a popular tourist spot for French people.
It smells like coconuts and sunscreen which reminds me of a perfect day in Sydney. Bongos are heard somewhere close by, a man is sitting on the sand, painting
on a canvas with oils. Young boys on horses ride across the beach and the girls are screaming and laughing as they attempt to stand on each others shoulders making human pyramids. I noticed, that the beach here has actual rubbish bins, which I have scarcely seen anywhere in South America.
…
FIRST NIGHT IN MANCORA Afterwards, I walked over to the artisan markets again and stayed there for about six hours speaking to all the artisans in Spanish, sharing cigarettes and drinking a bottle of white rum. I made friends with all the artisans and they all offered to make me free tattoos, braids and give me free jewelry. We talked in Spanish for hours and hours, about Bolivia and Peru and the rest of South America, places with good and bad energy, different cultures and people, drugs and politics, our past, our families and finally music, I find that every conversation I get into ends with music.
A big black Columbian fellow made a terrible braid in my hair as we were sharing a cigarette. I then sat with a guy named Sonny from the Amazon for a few hours as he got me to
make some jewelry for him, I was helping him sell them and noticed that I really enjoy the markets and could work in one, one of these days when I decide to work again.
He then made me a flower from silver and beads and then started to hit on me quite severely, he was holding my hands and wouldn’t let go, was telling me that I was an angel and crap like that, I said buddy you’ve obviously never met an Aussie girl, we don’t like this cheesy com-on's now let go of my hand and get your hand off my leg!
He told me that tomorrow, he will help me juggle with three balls and teach me how to make a necklace and after, we will go to this private beach called Pocita beach where I had already visited earlier that day and eat fresh fish. It sounded really nice, but I didn’t want to be leading any strange Peruvian men on at this stage, so I said thank you but no.
Then he tells me at about 11pm tonight he and the artisans are having a get together at the beach, there will be
a bonfire as well as music, drums guitars and flutes. I said ok, sounds cool and agree to meet them later.
So I gathered up the two Aussies, Amy an American girl and Gil from the hostel and we all headed to the beach at around midnight.
…
We could hear some terribly loud and tone-deaf Spanish music that was playing across the road from the hostel.
As we walked out, we could see groups of hundreds crowded around this gate watching this Peruvian band play some seriously god awful music with surprisingly top notch speakers.
We watched for about two minutes and they were getting ready for their next song, they were testing the microphones, when suddenly one of the two singers slaps the other one in the face! The other one didn’t know what to do and raised his hand to hit back and realized where he was and tried to keep his composure and instead patted down his suit and leaned into the mic to start a new song, we decided this wasn’t for us and headed for the beach instead.
Kiosks and hamburger stands were still open and we picked
up some chicken sandwiches from a street vendor on the way, which was only 1 sol and turned out to be the best sandwich I have ever had.
…
We found the artisans at the South end of the Beach, the moon was high and very bright illuminating the entire sky and we sat around a warm bonfire. There were about 20 or so of us, and on one side sat the local and the other, us the gringos.
I recognized half of them were the artisans from the markets and the others were new strangers that I hadn’t yet met; they were mostly men, the men out numbered the women severely. They were wrapped in tribal blankets, head scarves or were topless with jeans or loin cloths.
We said hello and sat down and the Peruvians started to play the flute, the guitar, the small Spanish guitar, the djembe while two of them were singing and chanting very loudly and beautifully and dancing around the fire like tribal Indians.
They were throwing sand near the fire and were chanting to Pachamama, they were doing this so passionately I thought they were going to cry
or howl to the moon. We sat there, watching in awe and there was an endless bottle of rum and weed going around.
A Peruvian man was playing the flute; he was amazing and looked like the guy from Red Hot Chilli Peppers, long black hair streaming down his face with a dark topless body and a tiger tooth hanging from his nape.
There was one instance, when everyone was talking and laughing when the flute guy started to play the most beautiful and softest song, everyone stopped talking and watched him in awe, we were all silent and when he stopped we all applauded and the noise carried on as usual.
Someone handed me a small Spanish guitar which was quarter the size of a regular guitar with twice as many strings. I picked it up and the artisans were trying to teach me some notes, after I while I got the hang of it and played quite nicely, then I ruined it of course by striking some seriously off-tune cords which made my skin crawl so I quickly put it down.
One of the Peruvians at the fire, who I noticed at the artisan
market, the one who didn’t speak to me once was the centre of attention. Singing and dancing and carrying on. He had an extreme amount of energy and everyone stopped to listen to him when he spoke. Ah, he was the leader and his name was Gabriel.
His hair was black, long and tangled covering his whole face, his cheeks were high and eyebrows dark and square, his forehead stretched over his face, he looked like and behaved just like an animal. His tiger tooth was the largest, sharp like a dagger and hung from his neck too. I didn’t like him for some reason, he reminded me of this giant troll monster I saw in the Ewoks movie when I was a kid and decided early on to avoid him if I could help it.
At this stage an annoying Peruvian guy was sitting next to me and was practically breathing down my neck, talking to me so closely about going to some corner in the dark and taking some coke with him, I kept saying no and was getting more and more uncomfortable.
I needed to escape so I noticed this young Argentinean fellow who
was lying next to me on his back looking up at the stars and I turned to him and said, enjoying the sky?
The Peruvian guy kept creeping closer to me and I was obviously getting annoyed, so the Argentinean guy offered to swap sides with me so I was no longer sitting next to the perverted guy and now in between the Argentinean guy and his Argentinean travel buddy. The Argentineans have been traveling for months from Argentina by car, a real road trip through the most beautiful countries too.
We realized the angry troll Peruvian guy was on coke now, he was getting increasingly upset and started to attack people one by one. He then turned on me, oh fuck. He was yelling at me in Spanish and telling me that I should learn it and learn some respect for their cultures, he was speaking so fast and passionately, I obviously understood him but didn’t dare speak back to him in my broken and slow Spanish, what could I say to him anyway that would calm him down? I had no idea how to handle this wild animal.
He then stood up in the centre of
My painting in the bar of the Kenova Hostel
this is the painting i did, it's a mix btwn a character from a French cartoon called Corto Maltese and a Peruvian Indian chick the circle and beat his chest like a gorilla and began to tell us all (in Spanish) that he is a wild warrior, the king of this jungle, the lord and we should all learn respect from him. Everyone feared him, but this girl, who sat in front of him looking at him like he was an actual god.
Luckily, he was distracted by this girl from Ecuador and also on coke was whispering to him from across the fire. He was watching her closely and looked like he was going to pounce on her.
Then like a cat, she crawled to him, very seductively across the sand. She was so fucked up that she crawled over the flames and burnt her skirt and stomach. She didn’t even notice until I yelled out to her and even then, she didn’t look down, didn’t take her gaze from this stranger and proceeded towards him, still on her hands on knees and whispered in his ear. She got everyone’s attention. He grabbed her and they started to kiss insanely like animals. She then moved back and lay down in the middle of the circle and he stood over her on
his knees, flattened out some sand to make some sort of a nest and unzipped his fly....
...
Ok, so it looks like we’re going then! See you later, nice to meet you all, so long! Take care!
These two animals were about to have sex in front of every one, when they saw that we were all leaving. So they went to some corner and continued doing whatever they had planned.
I was waiting for the two Argentineans so we could all get the hell out of there before this turned even uglier. When this beautiful flute guy came up to me, I was standing all alone on the sand and decided to empty out my beer bottle here, so I wouldn’t have to carry it all the way to the hostel. I was off my face enough as it is, and didn’t feel like spilling beer all over myself as I tend to do.
So this Red Hot Chilli Pepper look-alike cornered me and (in Spanish) was asking me why I wasted the beer and that I should have given it to Pachamama. I didn’t understand most of what he was saying and he
was increasingly getting more and more upset with me, and moving closer and closer to me, his face almost touching my face, I thought I was in some danger, then he grabbed my hand and put sand in it and told me to offer it to Pachamama, I did this and he walked off without any expression or turning back to let me know if I was forgiven.
I walked back to my hostel with the two Argentineans, we were feeling very lucky to get out of there in one piece and agreed to leave back to Lima together by bus, Tuesday or Wednesday next week.
…
I got back to the hostel, every one was still awake, the music across the street was louder than ever, shops were still open, people were still out buying food and partying at the front of the hostel and it was already 4am at this stage.
I went to bed and wrote in my journal, I was wide awake but noticed myself nodding off when Antonio bangs on my door and says, “Deb! We’re having some joints now! Wake up and come outside!”
I get up without even
thinking, I’m in my pajamas and throw on a jumper. I go outside to where I think Antonio was but instead I find a Mexican guy and a German guy sitting on the couch, playing with eachother´s hair. I was so uncomfortable and wasn’t sure what I had just walked into, so I said, “Hmm, what’s that over there?” and left to find Antonio and some Belgium strangers in the bar rolling up some joints.
The music from across the road finally turned off so I got out my iPod and on his speakers we listened to John Butler Trio and smoked one joint after the other and the other and stayed up zoning in and out of conversations till 6am in the morning. I think I had about ten joints that evening, three more and it would have been a typical Friday the 13th for me.
I was scribbling on my cigarette packet and Antonio asked me if I know how to draw, I said yes and he asked me if I can make a painting on the walls of the bar. I said ok, and we agreed I’d do it some time before I leave.
Finally at 6am I crawl into my bed which is full of sand. Antonio and Luis have been promising me since I arrived early this morning that they will put new sheets on the bed for me.
First it was in an hour, then it was after lunch, then it was after crepes, then finally at 11pm after I had been walking around all day, getting distracted by strange men, I eventually worked up the nerve and asked him again for the fourth time for new sheets. Now that I am lying on what I suspect is my bed, finally at this odd hour, I realize that in fact the sheets haven't been changed.
The following day, I woke up at 2.30pm in the afternoon, Antonio made me some cerbiche fish for breakfast, which is the raw Peruvian fish with onions, chile and lime and corn, which was so good! He keeps surprising me, he’s only 19 and is such a good cook, how is this possible?
I spent the rest of the days there going to the beach and falling asleep on the sand and collecting shells and stuff with many a late night.
…
LEAVING MANCORA On my last day in Mancora, I was supposed to leave to go to Lima with the two Argentinean guys I had met at the beach earlier in the week and Amy, a very cool American chick.
I was reluctant to go because I was not ready and they were leaving in ten minutes and I still had not painted on the walls of the bar in the hostel as I had promised Antonio.
I didn’t know what to do, so I packed anyway and said my goodbyes to everyone, and then when I got to the car I realized there was only room for one person, they wanted me and Amy to squeeze in the back for what would have been a 20-hour drive. I said no way and bought a bus ticket to Lima for that night and this meant, that I could use the day for painting the bar as I had promised.
So Antonio and I went to the art store and picked up some paint and brushes, we bought black, blue, orange and white. I didn’t quite know what I was going to paint, but Antonio really wanted
Streets of Iquitos
In Iquitos they ue little motor taxis as cabs, they are basically motorcycles with a 2-seater in the back and a roof some pictures from this French cartoon he loved so much called Corto Maltese.
I found a picture on the internet that looked similar to the girl I am used to drawing and got started. I first drew a sketch on the wall and then with the black paint I made the outlines and once that dried filled in the rest, this picture took me about two hours or so. I was very proud of it and they all seemed to like it. I’m not used to being trusted to paint something so big that is so permanent on an actual wall where people can see it. But Antonio seemed pretty confident with me, so that helped.
Afterwards I still had a few more hours to waste and noticed that the bar itself was looking pretty vacant, so I decided to paint a silhouette of a jazz player playing the trumpet with drums in the background, I wasn’t sure on this one, but it turned out really well (thank goodness) and made the bar look better too. Antonio and Luis and some others really liked the paintings and in return he made me a beautiful lunch of rice and
Streets of Iquitos
The streets are filled with these little motor taxis seafood, wow it was good!
I finally left to get onto my bus to head to Lima, I really didn’t want to leave and I promised if I could I would return and paint some more for him.
Mancora is a really great place and it’s such a shame that there’s no real mention of it in the Lonely Planet book. There’s one paragraph, but nothing special.
IQUITOS, AMAZON BASIN, NORTH PERU
It's hot here, like a fever but thank goodness there is a slight breeze every so often.
The second I stepped off the plane I was hoarded by 20's and 30's of sweaty men in basketball caps and flannelette shirts sticking their hands in my face and shouting dos soles! Tres soles! Cinco soles! Taxi taxi taxi taxi!!
They were pulling my arms and mochilla in different directions and it made me feel physically sick, I had no air and they really invaded my personal space, I was so disoriented and my temper was rising very quickly I was about to pull my hair out and scream bloody murder when the security guard saw me, this tiny gringo being
streets of Iquitos
So it started to rain, not rain pour! and the motor taxis all put an opaque screen in front of their carts to block the wind and rain... so how do you expect to drive when youc an't see anyhing? I don't get latin rationals, seriously.. swallowed up by these relentless taxi pricks pulling me back and forth and fighting over me…
So in he comes, with a baton in one hand, he stands in front of me and belts the shit out of these guys, who for a second separate but the second he calms they come back stronger than ever, yelling and pulling again..
So I eventually got out of there in one piece and checked into the Hobo Hideout hostel on Avenida Putumayo, five minutes walk to the main Plaza De Armas.
For $15/soles a night I get a bed in a dorm with eight other beds, the rooms are very dark and the showers are cold. I expected this because it is a city within a jungle, this is the usual case in places like this, anywhere there is a beach and a jungle you can expect a cold shower.
The second I left my hostel, again! I was bombarded by hundreds of hands with tiny pamphlets in my face. I had enough, I felt like a celebrity being chased by the paparazzi.
I had only been in this town for less than two hours and I
Streets of Iquitos
Here's a sign aimed at tourists to not sexually assult the local children, I thought this was very strange because I never imagined anything like this to occur in South America.. was already ready to pack it in. I can’t take touristy places, being hoarded by men and strangers… I found myself in gringo central and was being treated as one and being treated like an object by men.
I walked into or rather; I was pulled into tourist agencies to enquire about the jungle trips, they saw that I was foreign and would only speak to me in English, so I explained that since I am in a Spanish speaking country I only want to speak Spanish.
I was feeling very reluctant to even stay there and I had only three hours sleep the night before because I had to be at the airport at 4am, so I was extremely tired and had no energy or patience. I told them what I wanted and the price that I wanted it for, they only wanted to sell me tours that were leaving the following morning, they were trying to rip me off and get me to sign up. Then I asked them, and what about Malaria? Is it a problem in this area? They said no, defiantly not, because the water level is so low it’s no problem, we
Yaguas and Borra Village
Yaguas and Borra are native people who live in the jungle in hutts that look like this provide mosquito nets, don’t worry it’s all inclusive for this price.
I remember speaking with my doctor back home in Sydney and she said no matter what they say, you need malaria tablets for the Amazon. I went there with the wrong brand that defiantly wasn’t suitable for the mosquitoes in the Amazon; it would be useless to take in fact. I decided after a few hours of window shopping for tours that it’s not meant to be, I will stay for an extra two days in this town and give it a real chance before I catch my flight back to Lima.
What worries me, is that a girl in the hostel was told by other travelers and tourist agencies that she doesn’t need malaria tablets- and when she was on the boat on the Amazon she was severely bitten, a couple said to her that the mosquitoes here, particularly so close to the water carry malaria and this couple spotted these very mosquitoes are the ones with malaria. This girl didn’t seem too stressed out about it, I don’t think she realizes that malaria can actually kill you. So I decided not to do the jungle
Yaguas and Borra village people
Here are the Yaguas and Borra village people dancing for me and I think I made the wise choice there.
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YAGUAS AND BORRAS COMMUNITY I asked some of the tourist agencies what else is there to do in this town besides the jungles and they mentioned that I could visit the Yaguas and Borras natives who live in the jungle near the river and I can get there by tour if I pay $120/Soles, I said no thanks, how can I do it myself?
So I caught a boat for $40/soles and visited the communities. It was so lame and set-up, a real tourist trap, I wanted to turn around and run, they said that it’s going to cost me $50/Soles; I figured this was ok because it’s better than $120/Soles!
So I’m sitting there and the men and woman start to dance for me, with long wooden sticks like didgeridoos and jewelry dangling and clicking, the woman are topless and their breasts are dancing all over the place, they have painted tribal artwork and tiger stripes on their faces in black and they put a feather hat on me and I feel like the biggest Nigel.. What kind of people would pay for this
Yaguas and Borra village people
Here are the Yaguas and Borra village people dancing for me shit? And then I think of all the Americans I saw at the cafes who are used to getting ripped off. I’ve been traveling for almost six months now around South America and this is the first time I’ve been treated like a gringo, I was so insulted.
They then picked me up and started to dance with me, can you imagine how I felt? I wanted to kick them down and beg them to stop the shit and be real for two minutes. After the ten minutes of dancing, they practically crawled all over me trying to sell me jewelry and after saying no gracias a hundred times they gave me two bracelets as presents made from porcupine thorns and beads from the jungle. I said thank you and ran back to the boat. On my way back to the boat a little five-year-old boy with huge rusty knife used for coconuts was following me whacking the trees that he passed. It was a very strange picture. The knife was almost as big as he was.
…
SERPENTINE PARQUE Back in the boat, the guy asked me if I’d like to see a five meter
Yaguas and Borra village people
me dancing with the village people.. Anaconda, I said sure because I’ve never seen one that big and we got back in to boat and drove to the Serpentine reserve. I was greeted by a topless guy who greeted me with handshake and told me that it will cost me $40/Soles for entry, I said no what about $20/Soles, he said $30/Soles and we agreed on $25/Soles. He took me to all the animals, again another tourist trap.
The animals here are domesticated and most of them seem happy. The first one I met was an adorable sloth names Juan. I picked him up and was carrying him like a baby, he was so sweet and looked like Agro from Agro's cartoon connection (a really cool show I grew up with when I was a kid), only Aussies will know of it.
The owner asked me if I wanted to keep Juan the sloth and I seriously thought about how I could get away with it on the plane. I will pretend it's my baby and if they say that's not a baby that's a sloth, I will get deeply offended and they will have to say ok AND give me business class seats,
Animals in Iquitos
Me with this gorgeous sloth called Jan for me and my baby sloth.. It could work!!
We also saw many other animals like ugly, thorny turtles that weighed almost 20 kilos, beautiful parrots and several five meter Anacondas.
I picked one up and put it over my shoulders, it kept wrapping itself around me, and it was very beautiful and weighed over 50 kilos so I was severely struggling.
The monkeys were very friendly and grabby just like the man who was showing me around. They put them selves in my arms like a baby and were so clever, the way they looked at me they were like tiny people.
Then we went over to the Puma, she was so beautiful but was pacing back and forth in her tiny cage overlooking the jungle. I felt so sorry for her and asked the guide why she was there, is she sick? No, she is just here for show. Ah, yes I definitely don't like this place.
...
IQUITOS Iquitos is a city that has about 5000 people living in it; it is in the centre of the Amazon Basin, surrounded by jungle and the Amazon River.
It's hot here
Animals in Iquitos
Here's me and a bunch'o'parrots and it rains almost every day at the same time, so if you want to plan your day you need to start early.
The motor taxis swarm the streets. All you can hear are their engines, they are everywhere.
When it rains, the motor taxis pull non- see though plastic sheet covers over the front of the front of the taxis so the water and wind doesn’t get though, the problem is, is that they also can’t see where they are going.
They look through a tiny slit on between the roof and the sheet or they drive with their heads sticking out the sides of the taxi, this is obviously extremely dangerous. It’s dangerous enough as it is when the weather is fine and these carts are speeding down the streets and ripping up the roads, but when it’s pouring and you have a hundred other motor taxis that are in a hurry and can’t see a thing, you can imagine how scared I was.
There are lanes for the taxis and cars, but they don’t get used, instead the cars and taxis squeeze between lanes, between each other and almost always smash into, tip over,
Juan the sloth
he looks like Agro doesn't he!? skid etc… Latin rationalities, no such thing.
…
Inside some shops and painted in big letters on the wall near the plaza are signs for tourists that scream out for us not to sexually assault the local children. I’m quite surprised at seeing this; I remember seeing it in a magazine about the Philippines, but I never imagined for anything like this to occur in South America.
There are very few restaurants, and when there are they are filled to the brim with Americans, there are so many Americans in Iquitos, mostly older couples and big groups. The bathrooms are clean but have no toilet seats anywhere but there is toilet paper which is a nice change.
Every few minute’s small children and older men will approach you as you are sitting and try to sell you jewelry, pens, fake cigarettes, fairly floss and even the occasional tarot card reader will approach you and ask you if you’d like your palms read. If you don’t want to buy anything they will just put their hands out for money anyway and little kids will tell you that you are hungry while you are eating, so you leave
ugly heavy turtle
weighs like 20 kilos or something, it's heavy AND ugly half of your meal for them and they sit down and eat it hurriedly in front of you.
I was in an interenet cafe one evening and one of the kids who I gave my meal to on several occassions approached me and looked through all my photographs on the internet, as he was leaving he gave me a little keychain as a thank you gift, I thought this was very sweet.
…
FLOATING MARKETS So after being ripped off since I came here I am now ready to leave, but decided to stay one extra day to check out the “floating markets” that I have heard so much about.
I went into an information office and enquired about them, the lady at the desk said there’s no such thing but there are some markets in Belen, so I caught a cab and headed there.
So it’s floating all right… on shit and piss, food scraps and garbage, basically there’s no such thing as the floating market here. I went there, it sucks and smells like rotting carcasses I thought I was going to be sick, this little kid on front of me was
ugly heavy turtle
I LOVE this sloth! they wanted to let me keep it and I seriously thought about how I could get away with it on the plane and I will pretend it's my baby and if they say that's not a baby that's a sloth I will get deeply offended and they will have to say ok AND give me business class seats, for me and my baby sloth.. it could work!! pissing as he was walking. I also saw a little girl selling and chopping coconuts all day, she had a stall of about 50 coconuts already chopped and peeled and it was only 10am.
Everyone grabs you and whistles and makes kissy noises; I’ve actually come to the stage where I’ve started to shout in curses at these people, I am constantly walking with my head to the ground with a big frown on my face.
(If anyone has had an enjoyable experience in Iquitos, please let it be said, because I am ripping this place apart in this blog).
SEE MY UPDATED PHOTOS AT:
http://au.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/debsi_photos/my_photos
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non-member comment
must have been a good experience