Amazon adventures

To see Amazon photos, click on this link

A 36 hour bus ride took us out of Lima, north along the coast and finally through the jungle to the end of the road where the river meets and you only have the option of travelling by ferry along the Amazon river or staying in the port town of Yurimaguas. The ferry left the next day and we stayed in a dodgy looking, but cheap hotel that reminded me a little of a hospital ward. Down at the port we slipped and slid over the slushy mud that had formed from the previous rain, which eventually took us to the ferry we were to board. We left that afternoon, slowly propelling ourselves into the famous river that is known for being the river that carries the greatest volume of water. We swung on our hammocks where we were to sleep and watched the sunset over the murky water that characterizes these rivers. Luscious jungle on either side interrupted only by a village now and then, where kids run to the shoreline to salute as the ferry passes by. Time was spent being creative, making jewellery out of macramé and reading books. We met some nice folk who coincidentally knew someone who we had gone to the meditation course with us – a small world we live in! We exchanged new macramé techniques for string and ate chocolate cake with peanut butter while smoking a little at the back of the boat. Sunsets were incredible as were sunrises which we got up for as breakfast was being served and a terrible noise could be heard of people moving and talking, not allowing you to sleep. Meal times were mostly disappointing consisting of rice and little else along with bread and margarine and a soup like consistency of porridge with very little porridge to be seen. We did taste juanes, a yucca mash with bits of fish swimming within it, wrapped in a bijao leaf and resembling a tamale, as well as camu camu, a bean like fruit which contains 40 times more vitamin c than the kiwi fruit, grilled on the barbecue and tastes rather good. Remarkably, pink dolphins were spotted at a distance as well as grey ones; I was ignorant to the fact that fresh water dolphins exist. My one-year of travel was celebrated on the boat, a fine way to bring in another period of travelling. Talks were had about joint plans for the future: Argentina with Agus after the ranch... and a new commitment was made between us.

We arrived in Iquitos, the world’s largest city that is unreachable by road, after two days of travel. A little exhausted from not sleeping properly in a shared hammock, we dived into the city and were met by a million motor taxis, roaring their engines in all directions. Quickly, we made it out of the hoard of activity and headed to a couch surfers house called David who is like a puppy dog, full of energy and excitement but also very inviting and friendly, just like his wife Rebeca. He was very sincere and open with us, telling us intimate details such as that his wife is 20 years older than he is, the disapproval of his parents and how they met and fell in love. Another storyteller lover, David told us some legends and beliefs of jungle communities in the Amazon, such as that of the pink dolphin (bufon) that impregnates pretty young girls. He told us of his cousin who apparently had this happen to her, as it’s happened to many girls in the Amazon. A famous doctor in Iquitos collects specimens of the fetuses of these aborted babies, which are apparently half human and half dolphin!

Iquitos is a city full of mysticism, traditional beliefs, shamans and motor taxis of course! A visit to the immense and chaotic Belen market will present you with a variety of exotic fruits such as poma rosa/mammee apple (a red fruit with white flesh) or aguaje (small red fruit with orange flesh), jungle fish such as the famous paiche (one of the world’s largest freshwater fish), an egg drink called ponche made out of eggs and condensed milk, tacacho made out of mashed or roasted bananas. Further along is the pasaje paquito, a passage of stalls selling traditional herbs, plants and medicines, beads and where you can find such things as san pedro and ayahuasca (a psychoactive shamanic ‘medicine’ which is prepared using two plants native to the Amazon) or any other herbal concoction to suit your needs. Impressive! Heading towards the river, you come across barbers, which are set up on the street with nothing more than a chair, scissors and a mirror set up in the outside light. Along the river in Belen, are the famous floating houses built on rafts that make up Belen shantytown. During the rainy season, people use canoes to go from one house to the other and during the dry season, many of these houses sit in the mud. It makes for a pretty spectacle watching the daily activity of people selling their goods on the river, traversing to each house in canoes. Bars, shops, churches and schools also are amongst the floating community consisting of approximately 7000 people.

On one day we met up with Alexandra, the pregnant girl in my room from meditation, who lives in Iquitos with her Shaman partner Wagner. We visited the Shamanic centre that the family owns (Capitari, centro de investigation) which has the reputable shaman, Don lucho or Luis (Wagner’s father) performing ayahuasca ceremonies and ayahuasca diets. Situated within the jungle, a quick 30 minute boat ride away and a 30 minute walk over a muddy, slippery path into the jungle, allowing you to arrive covered with mud up to your knees. People come from all over to try ayahuasca, believing in its effervescent healing properties or simply, for a hallucinogenic experience.

Wanting to get out to the real jungle, we went with David (our couch surfer) and his new and very small tour company, to a small community of 22 families called San Antonio. We glided over the Amazon river to smaller run offs that we traversed, encircled by thick jungle on either side that we could almost touch. Exactly how I imagined a jungle adventure! We spent two days walking through the jungle, spotting scattering tarantulas and their intricate webs, large termite mounds, listening to the amazing knowledge of plants that our guide holds, pointing out each plant and tree and describing what it’s used for: medicinal properties, food, construction material, etc. We adventured through as tarzans and janes and drank water from a vine while climbing up another. These vines were thick and long, launching themselves up trees and then swinging down and helping other vines to climb up. We also went on a night walk and although couldn’t see much, we heard the amazing sounds that the jungle has to offer: a variety of birds, monkeys, frogs, crickets and a rare moth that apparently has a selling price of $100. The darkness enveloped our sight and the only thing that could be seen was a half glowing leaf. The mystery that is bought about by the night made me remember the books I loved when I was little, telling of magic communities that come alive only at night, situated in the dense forest or jungle. We also went for another canoe ride but this time making our own path through the vegetation, ducking and bending down to avoid the trees and shrubs growing out of the river and reaching out at us. While watching the local final soccer championship in a community called Gen Gen, I was attacked by a white bearded monkey while I was taking its photo. I fell in the mud and made a fine spectacle for the people watching nearby! Over the soccer field, while the game played on, majestic macaws flew over of brilliant vivacious colours of blues, yellows and greens, a magnificent sight to watch.

Our boat trip to Brazil was a quick two nights where once again, we met someone hammocking next to us who was from the same community as one of the girls from the meditation course and with whom we chatted about the philosophy behind the meditation and how to live in the present moment. Another coincidence in this small world that we live in. Arriving at the three-frontier border between Peru, Brazil and Colombia, we crossed to the other side of the river and arrived in Brazil.

The ferry from the border of Brazil took us up the Amazon river over a three day journey and dropped us off in Manaus, the capital of the Amazons in Brazil. The ferry, much more luxurious than the Peruvian ones we had taken (but also much more expensive), had a sundeck and bar and served a buffet which didn’t have any vegetarian options but seemed much more substantial than what we obtained in Peru. Luckily we made friends with one of the kitchen staff (Lucia) who spoke very fast Portuguese as I looked blankly at her and smiled politely, making out a few words here and there from the similarity it shares with Spanish. She shared some of her food with me (she’s also a vegetarian) including soya and a big fish steak that would have been enough for two or three meals.

The Brazilians are much more generously proportioned than most other Latin American nations. This is obviously partly due to the fact that they eat bigger portions and a lot more meat here. They are generous with the amount of cheese that they place in your empanada and give you a big serving of eggs on your rice and yucca as well as a lot of chocolates in your famous Brazilian Garotos chocolate box. The girls wear a lot less clothes here, showing off their beautiful tanned skin and curves, with their hair gracefully slithering over their backs. Everything is much more ordered here than, for example Peru. Police in appearance, seem to perform their job properly, searching us to the full extent before boarding the ferry to the point where he was opening my condoms and lifting an inquiring eyelid at my Cuban cigars or my little bottles of homeopathy. The traffic glides with greater symmetry (or at least in Manaus) and drivers have a respect of pedestrians with no incidences of acceleration while crossing the road. The music here is full of life and vivacity; strong voices, bold and very rhythmic. To match the music is a big drinking culture of beer. The beer here is light which encourages people to drink as much as possible as it flows like water especially with the heat of the day.

Manaus was a stepping-stone to continue north up to Venezuela and making our way back up to Costa Rica. We took a short bus trip out of the city on one morning and waited on the side of the road for a ride. Cars passed us by and signalled to us that they weren’t going very far but none stopped until 3pm in the afternoon. A Brazilian/Italian/German (Luis), chatted to us in his broken Spanish mixed with Portuguese, telling us about the indigenous jungle community near the lead mine where he works, which still practices its traditional customs and traditions and has been known to be a little aggressive at foreigners (understandably), and that there’s a pulp mill (Jari project), which was bought over from Japan, built in the form of a ship, which holds tree plantations the size of Germany and Belgium combined. This is the sad state of affairs in the Amazon which we also observed in Peru, seeing vast amounts of deforestation either caused by companies or locals trying to make a buck or two, chopping trees to make charcoal. He took us to a petrol station, located five minutes out of the indigenous reserve. It was five pm by this point; the sun was setting and transmitting glorious light over the sight.

We had little hope that we would get a ride at this point but the gods were working in our favour that day and sent us an angel disguised as a truck driver (Juan Carlos), who was going up to the border (a short 18 hours away!) and then continuing to the North Coast of Venezuela, exactly where we were heading! Not believing our luck I smiled internally at how things work out. We crossed the reserve with great caution. The road being broken up by plummeting potholes and regions of skimming mud that at times, trap your tires into their dreaded depths. Weaving from one side of the road to the other, trying to miss the holes in the ground, we listened to tales of onza sightings on the road (a feline) and spotted a snake and several alligators crossing the road in the pitch black. The jungle looked amazingly thick and wild, the type that spits you out in pieces after entering. In comparison, the Iquitos jungle we visited now appeared tame; training wheels until your ready for the real thing. Rain poured down in gallons at various intervals during the night, adding to the difficulty of the task of driving and spotting the potholes. The rattling of the truck due to the situation of the road and the lack of suspension, made it hard to sleep in the sleeper, fitted with a full sized mattress. But I managed to rock myself to sleep and woke up to the light of day, Juan Carlos having slept just one or two hours throughout the night and still being in fairly good shape. He has 28 years of experience being a truck driver, crossing the Amazon jungle and visiting many countries on his jobs, learning Spanish as he negotiated with the border crossing guards. Originally from Brazilia, he moved to Manaus and found himself an Amazonian in exchange for his previous wife.

A couple of hours before arriving to the border, we acquired a flat tire on the front wheel and had to stop to change it. It was a complicated process that took a good hour and involved taking out a lot of tools, a lot of strength to get the tire off and a lot of grease. The job complete, I was alarmed to see Juan Carlos throw the old hydraulic jack across the road and into the wetlands, contaminating the water in an instant with grease, oil and grime. I asked him why he would do something like that and he responded simply that it was now useless. Agustin interrupted and quietly told me that it wasn’t the time to be saying anything after a frustrating hour of defying tires, strong sun and with little sleep the night before. A very sad sight all the same and something that many do in these parts without a thought.

Arriving at the border at midday, we were told by Juan Carlos that we had to part ways as crossing the border for trucks involves a lot of paper work and a few days of waiting for approval. Surprised, we jumped out of the truck and with little enthusiasm, went through the process of getting our passports checked and stamped from the countries we were leaving and arriving to. Having no luck with rides after an afternoon of standing in the sun once again, we camped near the bus station in a family’s front garden and rose at first light to try our luck again. Ready to catch a bus out of Santa Elena, I was surprised that someone stopped to offer us a lift 300 kilometres up the road. Little was said until halfway through the trip when Antonio started to chat to us, maybe as he became more trusting of us. We exchanged banalities on how much money things cost, the military and the excessive checkpoints along the roads (we were stopped four times and asked for our passports, checking the contents of the truck in a small 200 kilometre radius). He dropped us off in a village called El dorado where once again, the sun hit down on us like fire. Two young social workers who work for the government gave us a lift to Turemne, a town where we could catch a bus from. They chatted to us about the positives of the fairly new socialist government in place in Venezuela. They were 100% behind Chavez and believed in the reforms that the government is currently undertaking. They explained that their work comprised of helping communities to organise themselves, to take control of their situation and address their needs according to how they see fit. They claimed that the government has provided the country with free education, free health and is encouraging the population to be actively involved in politics and managing the country. They admitted that this was just the start and that time is the essence of change. They also admitted that there is a lot of resistance including within the government, where there are many who are quite comfortable in their positions and don’t want to loose any of their control or benefits to the communities. They recited to us the new socialist ethics declared by Simon Bolivar which are at the basis of the Venezuelan national project, both seeming very passionate and dedicated to their work. At Turemne we were about to buy our bus tickets when I proposed to wait half an hour for no particular reason, and within this time, we got a ride to Tupata with Gregorio who likes to sing in English and has a talent for languages. With a big smile and an inquisitive eye, he dropped us off at Tupata bus terminal where we made it just in time for the bus to Maracay. A passenger on the bus informed us that the bus that we were to catch from Turemne had broken down which meant that all the passengers had to wait 24 hours till the next bus. I had followed my instincts on this one!

The next week was spent in Fabiola's apartment (an amazing couch surfer who has healed herself through meditation and now organises empowerment workshops for women), with a little break at the beach for a spot of fighting, a touch of getting robbed while camping and a bit of baywatch action by Agus when a drunk man got himself in a tussle and had to be saved from drowning. We shared many laughs, stories and meals (including pizza made by Agus in celebration for my one year of travelling!) and Fabiola told us about the changes that she had noticed since Chavez took power. She mentioned that sometimes there are some food basics lacking in the shops such as milk or butter, that there is less freedom such as not being able to have more than a certain sum in US dollars and that people seem to be unhappier than before.

With one camera down and one hero lifesaver made, we left Maracay as the rainy season was commencing and dodged the rain as rides took pity of us from time-to-time. Difficultly, we searched for a ride at a petrol station, asking everyone we came across and obtaining various responses, few being positive. Manuel was one who was. He took us from Velencia to Savaneta and chatted to us, like most people are willing to do in Venezuela, about the political situation here. There seems to be two clearly marked camps; those who are in support of Chavez and those who are opposed. Manuel, like many whom we had met, is against for various reasons. On the up side, petrol costs 4 cents per litre in Venezuela, cheaper than water, it's given away, encouraging people to drive everywhere - not such a good thing considering environmental issues.

People carry deep rooted fears of the stranger here, the media constantly talking about the gangs that are apparently growing more and more out of control and this idea has submerged people's heads. One truck driver gave us a lift after I came looking for a ride during the early night at a street eatery outside a petrol station. The girls serving convinced him (or forced him) to take us. He told us that in his three years of working as a truckie, he had never given a ride to anyone for fear that they might attack him. That night, we spent what was a very long night on the road, next to a police check, waiting for the bus that never came which was apparently going to the border. We eventually made our own way there and left Venezuela 10 days after arriving, having seen very little but with the craving of wanting to see more from the country of belleza, much nature and gorgeous people!

Santa Marta was one of two stops we made in Colombia this second trip around, mainly for the Caribbean beaches available here. It is the oldest city in Colombia constructed by the Spanish and has a relaxed tropical atmosphere about the place. I had forgotten how friendly the Colombians are, full of life and energy, they make cities especially on the coast, vibrant and entertaining. We met an artesano who lives off selling macrame jewelery, living a nomadic lifestyle, travelling from one country to the next, he taught me a new knot, showed us his intricate necklaces and bracelets which he had made and entertained us with his stories of life as a gypsy.

A few days later, catching the plane from Cartagena (Colombia) to Panama, we were told that we wouldn't be allowed entry into Panama if we didn't have a ticket out of the country. We didn't and frustrated and angry, we were forced to buy a ticket online with five minutes to spare before check-in closed. In Panama, we mainly got to know some of the couch surfing group there who were very welcoming as usual, and big partiers. After many months of not going out, we went out two nights in a row and I was reminded how it felt. Meanwhile, a huge fiesta was happening in Sydney that same weekend for Mun's 40th Birthday, saddening my heart that I wasn't able to be there for it.

We had another adventure heading to Costa Rica catching many rides in the pouring rain and a late night sleep at a small town's petrol station where we slept for a maximum of 2 hours. In the early morning we hitched with a kind bus driver and managed to make it all the way to the small community of Mastatal where there's very little transport (but got lucky and got a ride with the school teacher). Now we enter a new chapter in our journey: Rancho Mastatl, working as a volunteer for 3 months at this ranch located in the Costa Rican jungle...!