Preparation

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prep·a·ra·tion -noun
1. a proceeding, measure, or provision by which one prepares for something: preparations for a journey.
2. the state of being prepared.

Now that I am in Brasil, I'd like to reflect on my Peruvian experience. I arrive in Lima only to get terribly sun burnt from using SPF30 sunblock (the locals use SPF50-SPF80). I forget about the abundance of bacteria on lettuce and get terribly sick in Nasca. Because of the weather in Cusco I freeze (lack of layers) and get drenched (lack of rain gear-it was too big to fit in my backpack) so I was forced to by an alpaca sweater and rain coat. And at the border crossing of Peru/Brasil/Columbia I didn't have any information (maps, hotel info, etc.) due to the fact that I cut out the Columbia section of my guide book because I wasn't going there. Or so I thought. Not bad for the first month of my ten month travel. But oh, it gets better!

The night before I left for the jungle, I went to the docks in Tabatinga, Brasil inquiring about the boat bound for Tefé/Manaus. I talked to the capitan, found the best place to hang my hammock, confirmed the time-- basically prepared for the trip. All I had to do the next morning was buy a hammock, a few munchies, and get some cash. So easy.

So the next morning, I get up, shower and eat breakfast and head out to Leticia, Columbia because there are more shops and ado there. (I should explain that Leticia and Tabatinga, Brasil are only separated by a sign, if that. When there, you can pass between each city/country without any problems.) I make a quick internet stop, buy a beautiful red handmade hammock and even stop for a pastry since I have some extra time and extra money. Relaxed, I head to the boat on the Brasilian side.

I am greeted by Pedro (captain) and Manuel (first mate) and they offer to help hang my hammock. So I take it out of the bag, spread it out and low and behold, it's a hammock for sitting, not sleeping. Its much much smaller, and Pedro and Manuel get a good chuckle out of this. Needless to say, I am embarassed. I told the store owner that I needed a hammock for the boat to sleep in, but never unfolded it! Damn! So now I have to gat a taxi (motorcycle taxi that is) go back to Columbia and exchange the hammock for a larger one. I hop on the back of a moto taxi, hammock on tow, and try to explain my situation, without being able to explain where I got the hammock. All I can tell him is to go to Leticia. At the border however, we stop to get a helmut for me (Columbian law appearantly) and there are stands set up with helmuts exactly for this purpose. I keep telling the driver were to turn, not really remebering where I went, but he knows better to ignore me and takes me to where I really want to go. I recognize the store and jump off the taxi only to find that it is closed until 3pm for siesta. The boat leaves at 2pm, so I have the driver take me to another store that is just about to close. I try to trade my hammock for a large one, but the store won't do it because no one wants a small hammock! So I get another one, and leave the small one for the store owner since she has kids that can sleep in it and I have no desire to carry it around Brasil. She thanks me profusely and says she'll remember me. I am touched and feel a little bit better about my hammock mix up. I next have the driver stop at a bank so I can get money, but since Brasil ATMs don't accept foreign cards, I stop in Columbia. But they only dispense Pesos. I take out 40,000 since it seems like a lot of money, stop again at the border to change it (and drop off my helmut) and to my surprise it is only 40 reals, or $20. Fuck! Oh well, back to the docks. When I get to the security gate at the docks, the security guy asks if I got another hammock. Great, so now my story has spread around the docks! I feel like a dumb gringa. However, as I hang my hammock I find out that my travelling buddy, George from Sweeden, had hammock problems as well and had to rent one from the capitan. And all I can think is, "At least I am not the only one!"

So finally, after much delay, the boat leaves. George and I head up to the top deck for beers, and at one point I think that I hear a bell ring. Dinner, perhaps? But no one else moves so neither do I. It begins to get late, and we are convinced that they won't be feeding us tonight, so I did into my food supply of saltine crackers. Yum. Soon after, everyone clears the upper deck and goes down to their hammocks and cargo. It is time for the Policia Federal to check our luggage;this is a routine check of everyone and everything on the boat and takes about an hour (or more. I don't know since I don't have a watch.) So, being a female, I say hello to the nice policemen, bat my eyelashes a bit, and hand them my passport. "Americana." The older of the two confuses my nationality with George's, so I try to correct him and we all have a laugh. He he! So I hand my purse over, it is thoroughly inspected, and all I keep thinking is of my medicines (migraine, malarials and the like) and although they have presrciption labels, I don't feel like explaining why I have the same weight in drugs as I do clothes. But I keep smiling, playing the Americana role, and offer to open my pack. To my surprise, he just past down my overstuffed sack! Not bad considering everyone else got a full inspection! My buddy George (a musician and journalist) who happens to be traveling with a guitar, mini-recording studio, and laptop, had all of his bags unpacked and everything inspected (thankfully they repacked everything neatly). He even had a full cavity search done to his guitar and case!

With that ado over, we all went to sleep, swaying in our hammocks. I slept quite well, until I was awoken by a child singing/chanting and by another bell. "It's too early to be breakfast" I think, and fall back asleep. When I awake (probably around 7 am) to a beautiful sunrise, George and I start the search for coffee. After going to the bar on the top deck we are redirected to the lowest level, where we find itty bitty cups, and a Thermos filled with the sweetest and creamiest coffee that you can barely taste the grinds. "Well," I think, "I'll get some real coffee at breakfast. But when is breakfast?" About an hour later, Manuel asks if I would like some café. "Yes!" I exclaim, and George and I head over to the captains deck where Pedro and he have their own coffee supply. It has lots of cream and sugar as well, but they have normal sized cups so at least I don't feel like I am doing shots. Then he pulls out a piece of bread for both Geage and me. What an angel. So after chowing down, I ask "When is breakfast?" and again both he and Pedro get a kick out of that. Apparantly, breakfast was at 6am! Doh! So after talking with Pedro and Manuel for quite awhile and after getting a full decription of the GPS and sonar displays on deck, Manuel takes us to line up for lunch. George and I were the first ones in the dining cabin and we feasted like champs on rice, beans, spaghetti, and wonderfully roasted chicken. Now that we knew the system, I couldn't wait for dinner. If only I knew what time dinner would be served! After a much needed siesta (actually I hadn't been doing much, but the hammock was there, calling me) I awoke moments before the dinner bell rang. I ate another fulfilling mean of rice, beans, spaghetti, and meat, and then headed up to the bar with George to have beer and a cigar. The sun gave us another perfect light show, and after awhile I retire to my hammock to read before bed.

I sleep like a baby, and am slightly awoken by the breakfast bell. George gets me up and we head over for breakfast (are you getting the sense that I plan my day around meals?). After more sweetened (understatement) coffee and a roll, we head to the captains deck to talk with Manuel and Pedro. I take one last cat nap in my hammock since I am only going to Tefé, much closer than Manaus, and am startled by Manuel who tells me that my boat to Tefé has pulled up next to the ship. So I jump off of the ship into the motorized canoe and grab my luggage that Manuel hands down to me. I cruise the amazon in this little boat carrying me, my driver and my luggage, 20 minutes to Tefé. I look around the banks of the Amazon, with my aviator sunglasses on of course to shield my eyes from the breeze. The wind brings the freshest, wildest scents to my nose; I feel freer than I ever have in my entire life. And I think to myself, "How will I ever be able to work in an office again?"

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Photos

The Fénix
This is the ship that I cruised down the Amazon in.

Hammocks on the ship
This is where I slept for 2 days!

Leticia, Columbia
This is at the border looking toward Columbia.

Comments

[Joan M. Ferrara Millar]

We're still having snow!
Hi Stephanie, I'm glad to hear that you are having a wonderful time. We miss you too, but are certainly enjoying our virtual trip with you! It sounds as if things are busy for you now. I'm glad that you'll be going into the jungle to see all of the interesting animals that the rest of us have only seen in zoos... Anyway you may want (or don't) care that last Friday and Saturday we were out on the driveways shoveling the 8" of snow. It was the largest snowfall of the winter. I'm glad that spring has now officially arrived and that as soon as the mounds of snow melt, the flowers can do their thing! It's suppossed to be about 60 (imagine that--it would be "winter" to you) by the end of the week. Take care and don't let any alligators bite you! Love, Mom

[joanie]

awesome
sounds fantastic. people like you shouldn't ever work in offices. that's just the deal. you're adorable in your hammock. i love your blog.

[John Haser]

Preparation
Hey you forgot to mention about forgetting your passport when first trying to leave the USA. We are so glad that you are having an adventure. However, we truly miss you in our office. All of our love!!! P.s. Isabelle is doing much better.

[Cynthia]

Catching up...
on reading! Nice hammock ;)