My Amazon!

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A life-long dream realized. I finally make it to the Amazon Rainforest and the mighty Amazon river. From the earlist days of watching Creature from the Black Lagoon where scientists were convinced that the earliest form of life appeared to reading in National Geographic magazine about this mysterious place that has gone largely unexplored for many years, I could experience it all from my base in Peru, by traveling to Iquitos by plane, just North of Lima.

I love the idea of being able to enter the plane from the tarmack - is it called a tarmack? It's kind of a throwback to when traveling was an adventure, really classy, like the flight attendants of Peruvian Air. Wow.

Anyway, it's only an hour and a half-long flight and seems to go quite quickly. I was met at the airport with a sign bearing my name and so I boarded a van along with a group of other men from the same family who seemed to be arranging their holiday rather frantically.

There was just enough light that I could see the city of Iquitos as we drove in. The motortaxis that passed us were decorated with bamboo in ornate patterns and, along with the rustic, cement buildings and tons of palm trees, reminded me of a 1950s Hawai'i for some reason. It was just as I had expected.

About twenty minutes later we stopped at the Hotel Roosevelt to drop off the other guys in the van. It wasn't the most luxurious of places and seemed, in fact, in a little bit of disarray. Considering the amount of money I had paid for my "excursion" I was glad this hotel wasn't mine. Or so I thought. As they unloaded the suitcases, I happened to notice that mine was amongst them. I quickly scrambled out of the van to tell them of their error, that this wasn't my hotel. But before I could say anything, the driver told me it was, indeed, my hotel. Not a good start to my trip.

Even though the hotel wasn't exactly what I hoped it would be, I decided to make the best of it and venture out into the city. Rest assured though, I wasn't worried about getting lost. I was going to employ my sure-fire method for staying safe and in control of the situation, only walk in a straight line so as to only have to turn around to head back to base camp. Of course, there is the worry then of getting too bold and experimenting with new turns, which, I should have known, I would do. But it was great. I found the Plaza de Armas, the large, central square where much of the action takes place. That night the center teemed with activity, tourists, expatriates, locals and some other people whose intentions I could not quite figure out.

I had to wait until the next morning to actually see the city as it grew dark very quickly. But it held much fascination for me with the ornate balustrade which ran much of the length of the river. I wondered how much longer the balustrade went along and who built it and what their intention was. I can't imagine it went on for too long as the city proper didn't seem that big. But I do believe it's the largest city in the world that can be reached by land transport . . . to get there it's air or boat only. Exciting.

The morning found people getting ready for morning activities as I strolled along the river, watching the houses on stilts from afar and taking photos of the rustic buildings that fronted the river. A small line of souvenir shops housed eager sales people selling bamboo pencils and colorful t-shirts. I would have loved to continue walking, but I was due to meet my guia, who would then take me to Sinchicuy Lodge, my home for the next two days.

Francisco met me inside the lobby of the Roosevelt, grabbed my bag and we headed to the van and then on to our boat from a steep hill leading to a dock. I had one of those smiles that you can't surpress, I was on the Amazon and it seemed to go on forever. The boat was a wooden-canoe type ship about thirty feet long, covered with a flat roof with plenty of seating inside. Francisco sat in front of me, Luis, the cook and bartender in front, and the captain sat up highin front, steering the ship. It was by far the largest river I had seen, the expanse seeming more like an ocean than a river. Using my best Spanish, I quizzed Francisco all about the Amazon and did my best to understand his "repuestas!" Still glowing from being on the river, I was surprised when the boat came to a stop in the middle of the river, which seemed to have no shoreline on either side of us. Francisco told me something, and all I could figure out was that I was going to have to get out and push. Looking back, it's easy to see that he was joking, but when you're out in the middle of this river, . . .with who knows what lurking beneath the waters, and three strangers who all speak Spanish tell you have to go in, well, my heart stopped just a little.

Sinchicuy was a great lodge to be based from; the excursions, the food, the memories, things I will never forget and always be grateful for. Truly the stuff of dreams. I met tribe members from the Yaguas tribe who lived a boat ride away from my lodge. I used a blowpipe without killing, anyone, danced a traditional Yaguas dance, had my face painted (which lasted all of about two seconds considering how sweat poured from my face like a waterfall) and to cap off my stay, a bout of buying locally made souvenirs from the Yaguas vendors.

**a quick sidenote. Francisco, my guide, was pretty outgoing, some might even say a little too much, but I can hang with the best of them and try to appreciate all personality types. But there was something about Francisco, or Pancho as he was called by his friends, that made him truly an amazing person, and that was how he treated the people we came in contact with. His face lit up whenever children came around and he teased them, or comforted them, and was certainly a friend to each one. He told me how much he loves kids . . . equally, his love of the elderly people he knew was also endearing. As we left the Yaguas village, two elderly tribesmen sat on a log bench and bid us farewell. Pancho stopped to talk with them (in a language I didn't understand) and as he talked, he just kind patted the face of the man he was talking to. Sometimes I wish more people had an appreciation and love for the wisened people of our community!

That day I also saw juice being extracted from a sugar cane by a very fit young lady. She set up camp somewhere along the path in the jungle where Pancho led me. She grabbed a huge cane, put it between a large wooden pole and wooden post and milked the heck out of that cane, letting the juice flow into a large metal bowl she placed underneath the contraption. Afterwards we drank the juice with a little lemon added to cut the sweetness, and then we tried some of it that had fermented. Fun in the jungle!

We continued to walk along the jungle and stopped at a family's home, constructed from five or six walls, on stilts, chickens running about the dirt floor, people sleeping or working, seemingly unaware and unconcerned about the time. Pancho called out to a eleven year old girl playing in her room and I had the chance to ask her about school, and kind of joke around with her. Everyone in the jungle seems so welcoming and eager to share a smile.

Our journey forward continued and as we walked, we could hear the distant rumbling of thunder, which seemed appropriate, considering our next stop would be at the home of a local shaman, doctor of the jungle.

I was surprised at his appearance. He walked into the grass hut which contained medicines and an altar located in front of a bookcase filled with statues of saints, plastic bottles of liquids with things floating inside, and candles and other mysterious artifacts. He wore a white t-shirt and shorts, and the everpopular large rainboots that so many people seemed to wear in the jungle. He did not wear the robes or sandals or grass skirts that I think so many think of when they picture a shaman.

I tried to be as reverential as possible during the meeting. He began by patting a sort of good-luck concotion of water, onions and some other stuff I wasn't to sure of all over himself. I got some of the good luck potion too, and I have to say, I think it paid off. He also shook dry leaves bundled together in a circular motion as a way to sort of "de-stress." I liked it. The rain soon thundered down around us, as the shaman continued to tell me all of the remedies he used, the spirituality associated with them, and some of the medicinal spirits that helped others who were ailing. I got to try some too, something called "Siete Raices" which means seven races, and I would found out later, is quite a popular drink in Peru. The afternoon is one I won't soon forget and the mysticism and power of the shaman might have something to it after all.

We walked back home, the day's events drawing to a close. I snapped more photos of Amazonian homes, where you could often see the waterline from when the Amazon river was super high. Kids played with bottlecaps, some people lounged in hammocks, laundry dried outside on lines, smells from cooking were carried by the wind, and all the while, I marvelled at the richness of everything around me.

When we got back to Sinchicuy Lodge, I went to my room for an extremely cold shower; the kind where you have to kind of dab yourself with the cold water first to avoid too much shock and then eventually could enter. I hung out in my room for a while when the bartender/cook, Luis, came and told me about dinner, which would be at seven. But by six, the jungle was black. There wasn't a lightbulb to be found, only lanterns, which did little to illuminate, well, not much. But dinner was wonderful and provided enough sustainance for the next day's events.

On Sunday, we took a trip to a nature preserve set up to help rescue and preserve some of the animals that might not survive on their own, or just needed a place to hang. The most abundant creatures seemed to be the monkeys. But not the scary type that rip off your face, they were more the kind that play and perform in Moroccan bazaars. They were amazing and had a lot more personality than one would expect. They were very comfortable eating from your hand, jumping on your head, and stealing whatever you might leave lying around. On the preserve, there were also exotic birds, weird looking turtles, and even a slow-moving anaconda about ten or eleven feet long. Francisco asked if I wanted to put it around my neck for a picture, but I was okay just looking at it from a distance. I did touch it though, the back of it anyway.

There were tons of tourists, including a really excited Russian family that seemed too picture-taking crazy because of all the flora and fauna. I'm sure I'm probably in at least fifty of the dad's pictures. Anyway, we boarded our tiny motorized canoe for the second trip down the Amazon. We were fortunate to actually spot a dolphin that seemed to be hunting in the general vicinity of our boating excursion. I think Pancho thought he was able to communicate with it as he continued to whistle and sing to it so it would come back and hang out with us. It wasn't long before the Russian dad began clicking his camera at something else. The boat captain began laughing and I looked around to see a ship not too far from us, named, inappropriately, I hope, the Titanic.

So, after the last outing, I had time for another cold shower, shopping in a village store for new socks with Luis and then canoeing in front of our lodge for the night's dinner. If you know me, you probably don't think I'm much of a fisherman, and you'd be right. We were in the world's tiniest canoe, where if I turned around quickly, we'd be taking in tons of water. I was surprised at our catches for the day. Francisco caught tons of piranhas, which, incidentally, often ended up right by my face, my back, or generally just too close to me. He caught about nine or ten of these fierce looking fish. I caught a sardine. Anyway, one of the things we got to eat that night was piranha soup, with the head still intact. Francisco prepared the soup from a recipe from his childhood and it was a nice gesture. He said he loved it, so, I let him finish mine.

The rest of the night I hung out talking with Luis at the restaurant, wandering down to the pier and enjoying the night, trying to make the best of my last night in the Amazon. Everything was perfect. Listening to the jungle sounds around me in perfect contentment. I know it won't be my last time there.

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Comments

[Connie]

Haha
Doug... this is a great picture of you!