A Jungle Wandering

Nowadays all the travel stories are about adventure and life or death situations. What ever happened to those vacations that were to leave you feeling serene and relaxed, not put your heart in your throat and leave you breathless? Our search for adventure has blanketed our memory of tranquility. Everybody is in search of an adrenaline rush. Here is a travel adventure story of another type. I call it an adventure story, because for me it was an adventure of another kind.
A girl of the mountains, I tend to prefer sports and travels that include an alpine setting. I suddenly found myself in another world, one that I had never imagined. Let me back up for a moment. Over a year and a half ago, my life was at a standstill. I lived in the greatest town in the world, but it always seemed to bring me bad luck and unfortunate situations. So on a whim, I packed my bags, left my animals and apartment in the care of a guy I had only known for 6 months and headed to Macae, Brazil to become a preschool English teacher. Never having led a class myself, and not knowing any other language, besides English, it began as a frustrating, scary adventure. I traveled a lot the first year, letting my co-worker do all the talking. Agreeing to a second year, I found myself wanting to go to a different place than my travel partner, so I went solo on our July, two-week break. The Amazon was on my “must see” list, so that is where I will start this story.
My second big trip in Brazil went without incident this time. Although I traveled alone, I met only kindness along my journey. Starting out was a bit nerve wracking. I arrived in Manaus at 3am and was whisked off to a hotel by my one contact via e-mail. Two hours later, I was awakened and taken to the boat port to begin my journey. Strongly encouraged to try a hearty guarana shake, I loaded up with shake in hand on a boat with a biologist, photographer, publicist and non-English speaking guide (later to find out they all spoke English but preferred Spanish). We viewed Encontros dos Rios, where the Amazon meets the Rio Negro and the dark and light waters do not mix, creating a visible line in the water. Arriving on the other side of the river I am left perplexed as to where I am to go and with whom, I load onto a van with the same folks I rode the boat with and hoped for the best. An hour or so later we arrive at a small town and bridge where I am told I will travel alone now on a boat to an unknown destination. I load my pack, trusting this toothless boatman with my belongings and my life.
Along our way, we pick up various family members of the boatman and drop them off. I began to get a sense of life on the river. It is their lifeline and only form of transportation. Finally the boatman pulled up to Hotel Mamori, which looked more like a large house on stilts. A fantastic lunch was waiting for me. The “eco-lodge,” has rustic rooms that contain two beds with nets and a fan, all arranged in a circular fashion around the stairwell with views of the river and surrounding forest. My first 5 days were a planned tour by AmazonRiders, one night in the rustic Hotel Mamori, two nights camping in the forest and a one night stay with a local family. After gorging on a lunch of traditional rice, beans, chicken and fruit, I found refuge in front of the fan in my room from the mosquitoes and heat. Laying still, as to not encourage the sweat glands to expel more wetness, I eventually drifted off to sleep.
The first day, I went piranha fishing with an English couple from South Africa, Tonya and Bob, and their English-speaking guide Alfred. We headed out under a blue sky, but with thunderheads threatening our outing in the distance. We watched a sloth take her time grazing in a tree, no reason to be in a hurry here. Sloths, or preguisa, take their sweet time and stay in a tree until there is nothing left to consume. Birds, birds everywhere! This place is a haven for birdwatchers. Looking around, the trees spring from the water, resembling something you would only see in a movie. We continue to mosey along until we enter a small channel and find an even smaller nitch among the trees. Tonya was the first to hook a squirming piranha on her bamboo stick, then Alfred the guide. Finally, I got mine and then Bob redeemed himself with a tiny one, luck was not on the side of the poor boatman. As we fished, an occasional crashing sound would turn your gaze upward to see clumsy toucans attempting a landing. Their heavy bills throw off their balance and obscure their vision, so landing becomes very comical to a foreigner’s eye. Heading back up the river to Mamori, we watched herons and egrets as they observed the dark looming clouds that threatened to break open. The sunset lit the sky a blaze with colors as it ran from a torrential downpour.
Today the senses were overwhelmed with sounds and smells, like walking into a florist shop. We returned in time to see Brazil beat their rivals, Argentina, in the PanAmerican Games. No matter how remote you may think you are in the jungle, there is always a dish and TV. After dinner and the rain, we went out hunting jacare, alligators. Sweeping a flashlight over the riverbanks looking for glowing eyes, my guide paddled slowly in and seized a small alligator from the dark waters. How he ever saw it, I do not know. Holding the creature by its mouth, they let us get a close look. The startled look in his eyes made him seem less menacing, but his razor sharp teeth reminded me that he was no friend of mine.
Day 2 was a bit slow going, waking early to see the sunrise that chose to hide behind clouds; I listened as the forest began to come alive. The still air begins in whispers from frogs, birds and bugs. Then the chorus slowly begins to chime in until it is singing vigorously with its heart and soul. The sky begins to offer light to the fog entrenched trees down river and we head back for breakfast. Later we return to the boat to wind our way through the igapo, this time discussing the various trees and their medicinal uses. Watching toucans crash into trees, certainly not the most graceful flyers. Quietly Dio pulls out a bow and spear and silently releases it into a large fish, which we will feast on the next day. Our quiet meander leads us back to the hotel in time for lunch and nap before heading into the jungle to set up camp. Camp consists of two hammocks with mosquito netting and a clearing for a fire. Dinner is chicken cooked on sticks and rice cooked in a witch’s pot. Mango cairpirhnas allow the tongue to flow a little more freely as I stumble through my Portuguese and we trade stories to pass the time. Finally, the mosquitoes chase into our hammocks.
Day 3 starts early with tearing down camp and heading to the trail for a 2-3 hours wandering through the jungle. Here I saw holler monkeys feeding, a gigantic spider, acai trees, ate a bug, smelled the forest and sweated in the stiffling heat. Luckily, we both were in need of a dip in the river. Staying close to the boat we jumped in to cool off, nothing had ever felt so good. In the stillness of the water, we were greeted by a pod of pink dolphins. After they had moved on we headed on to lunch and then to our second camp spot. This night I took Dio up on his offer for a star viewing boat ride. Free from mosquitoes, the river greeted us with a calm breeze and brilliant sky.
Day 4 we wake lazily, had breakfast, and packed up. Heading to the home of Dio's brother we paused to see a great pod of grey and pink dolphins as they fed. The grey dolphins jumped into the air as the pink dolphins plunged noisily into the water, unable to jump as their cousins do. We arrived at a rustic home with a TV blasting the Pan America games and two little girls entertaining each other while their parents were out. Finally, the rest of the family showed up and we all ate lunch. The girls started out shy until their sister Daisy showed up to break the ice. Bebe (2), Daisy (4) and Ana Paula (9) took turns taking pictures with my camera and dancing forro with me. I find great friends in them. Soon I was running barefoot in the mud, manure yard that surrounded their house as the pigs, cows and chickens roamed about. We all bathed in the river together, went to bathroom in the far off bushes and huddled together in the dark shelter during a torrential storm. With a candle lit in front of the small Jesus statue, we all sat in darkness waiting for the storm to pass. The three little girls huddled together with me on one side. The earth trembles with thunder and lightning threatens the tin roof. Slowly the rumble softens to a pitter-patter and we can hear our own breath again. The birds' songs return and the work of the family resumes, except for Daisy who is fast asleep on my jacket. After patiently waiting for the power to return, the mother starts dinner of the fire. After dinner and the return of power, the family settles down to watch the Pan Am games and the popular Brazil novela (soap opera). The next morning Dio and I have to return to the hotel for lunch and my farewell.
Many asked for lots of pictures. There are many, but many times, I chose to enjoy the quiet solitude of the forest and to look at it through open eyes instead of a camera lens. This journey was not just a physical journey through an amazing landscape, but also a spiritual journey that challenged me and helped me look deeper into myself. Many of what I experienced in these five short days will remain with me forever.

Part 2
The long awaited Part 2 of my trip. Returning to work, my mind was spinning, trying to return to normalcy, getting out of the wanderers mindset. Thanks to the reminder of my Portuguese teacher, here is the second part of my trip in the Amazon.
Returning to Manaus after a few days of peace and quiet, I wander the city streets filled with nostalgia of the forest and wondrous natural aromas that arose from the air. Slowly I tried to mentally prepare myself for the public boat, which I had read so much about. Questionable food, bathrooms reeking of seasickness, and scarcely space to move. Thanks to AmazonRiders, my tour guides, they purchased the boat ticket and even set my hammock up in a "prime spot." Oh yes, four nights in a hammock, for a brasiliero maybe not a problem, but a soft americana who likes to sleep on the hard floor, quite a change. Hours before departing I am led to the boat and find my hammock smack dab in the middle of a hundred others. I watch as others load, scoping out my boat mates for the next several days. Suddenly a man drives right up to the boat on a motorcycle, curious eyes popped out of every nook and cranny, hoping for a glimpse of this tall, handsome stranger loading a motorcycle onto the boat. Boxes of bananas, mattresses, and fish are one thing, but a motorcycle, not an everyday sighting.
Finally, the boat got moving and everyone settled into the long tables along the side of the boat for dinner. Like an assembly line, plates, silverware and food are slid down the table. As soon as one person finishes, another jumps in for his/her turn. Later we find out that the men sit on one side and the women on the other side. Oops! The typical meal, not too bad, rice, beans, meat & farofihna. The first night I made fast friends with a boy named William, he guided me on pictures to take of the sunset, hammocks and such.
Being the only single, white female traveler, I am afraid I drew a little attention. At first, I indulged in reading and journal writing, watching the people as they watched forro DVDs blast from the 4 enormous speakers on the top deck. A large group from the UK of young chaps were drinking beer and playing games. The tall handsome stranger wandered around chatting with various people. I was exhausted and hit the hammock early. Unfortunately, my neighbor decided to invite one of the crew into her hammock and I ended up with a bum hanging over me and constant bumping from my hammock neighbor. When an elbow pierced my knee and I yelped in pain, he finally got the hint and left. 2 AM I found myself wandering to the top deck, expecting to find a party, instead it was dead silent and absolutely blissful. A nice yoga session under the starts was all I needed to put me to sleep.
Day 2 brought us lots of sunshine. The silly gringos all basked in the sun, hoping to become just a little more like the brasilieros, but instead, most of use just turned a nice shade of red. Others just shook their heads at us and continued with their dominoes or card games. The young chaps from the UK graciously invited me into their group, the tall handsome stranger joined us and as the sun went down, and we drank beers together and chatted about our various Amazon adventures.
Day 3 found us docked in a town for several hours; the tall handsome stranger whisked me off on a powerful horse (mototaxi) to a wonderful breakfast filled with fruit and sugarless coffee! The bread and sugared coffee on the boat was a bit much for me. The stranger ended up being quite an interesting fellow, riding his motorcycle from Argentina to AK and now back again. Back on the boat, we have another day of sun and great conversations. A short yoga introduction catches us all in tree pose as the sun slides behind the glassy waters. The river widens and we see more freightliners as we near the mouth. Visible brown/black lines show where tributaries enter, but do not quite mix with the majestic Amazon.
Day 4 is our last full day and probably the best. We enter into small channels where the boat slows so that it does not disturb the fragile shores. The poor natives that live along the shores paddle out to the boat with children whining, hoping for a small plastic bag to be thrown over, filled with clothes or food. Some children, it seems, have been trained to flap their arms and squeal out sounds of hunger. The poverty is evident, but so are the satellite dishes that gleam in the sun behind begging canoeists. It was the children who sat quietly, staring with round almond eyes, which tore at my heartstrings. Returning to mind the passion, I had as a child for the homeless that lined the streets of Seattle. I ache with compassion for these people that know nothing beyond their daily existence and the river that sustains their lives. I cannot seem to tear myself away from watching the condition in which these people live. The incredulous desire to educate these people. The center of their life is a box that speaks and displays pretty pictures. Lost is the value of books and learning. Living in falling down wooden shacks, but not without a glaring circular object that they have come to worship.
The complexity of the river becomes evident as we weave through narrower channels that slowly begin to open, welcoming other channels that have carved out islands along the river. We pass by a large logging operation. The evidence of what you see on the news. We do not see the deforested areas, but the water levels and changes in vegetation tell the story.
Many are tired of the boat and getting cranky and ornery. I am quite content watching the scenery and talking now and then to the stranger. I do not look forward to spending 4 days in a city again.
The night passes quickly and I arise to watch the sunrise over the mouth of the Amazon River. The breadth of the shores has opened up and it feels as if we are on the ocean. People slowly awake as they are tossed about and wonder why the sudden change. The sun shines magnificent colors across the dark water and cloud streaked sky. Now everyone is awake, hammocks begin coming down, and those anxious stand at the front, awaiting the first glimpse of the port city, Belem. The city is comes into sight and is larger than most of us imagined. Skyscrapers spanning the horizon. Arrival turns into a time to say good-bye to all the good friends we have made.
It feels good to be on land again, knowing a nice clean bathroom and good food are not far off. I am to follow the UK group to a cheap hostel nearby. Weary of being part of a large group of gringos looking lost and confused, my fears are warranted when I sight a questionable character come our way. Learning from experience, I guard my treasures and watch as he tears a necklace from the one and only Brazilian in our group. Not the smartest thief I suppose, but luckily, nobody was hurt. The Fortaleza Hotel had showers, a bed, and a cranky owner. In one day, I wandered the streets and found everything I needed to find. The UK crew had all come down with a nasty stomach bug and I was ready to be out of their.
Craving solitude again, I headed off with Alex of California to Ilha do Marajo, the largest river island in the world. The Amazon to the south and Atlantic to the east, sparsely populated, it sounded like what I needed. Another 2 hours on a wild boat ride, 40 minutes on a bus, and a short ferry ride finally got us to Soure. Heeding the suggestion of the Lonely Planet guide we headed to the larger city on the island, where a cute old man found us as we stepped off the ferry and led us to his house for a modest R30. We took it just for the sake of having a place, drank cachaca, wandered around the mini town party and headed to bed, Alex in the hammock and me in the bed, finally, a comfortable place to sleep. The next morning I decided to try the smaller town, which proved to be much better. A room right on the beach for the same price. Laying on the beach in complete relaxation, I said good-bye to Alex and basked in the glory of being away from English speakers. Alone at last, I wander around, stopping to watch children jumping off a stranger creature in the water, pulling its horns to load onto its back, a closer look and I see that it is a water buffalo. The island is famous for them; the police ride them instead of horse at times. Gentle and sweet, they put up with the abuse with a toss of the head and roll of the eyes. A horrendous rainstorm comes in and I find myself trapped in my room finding towels instead of buckets to catch the water sneaking in from the ceiling. The town has its annual festival while I am there. I wander the food stands as the band sets up, testing out everything and forgetting the names of all the delectable local flavors. The last day of vacation greets me with a couple more hours of beach and sun. I am sad to leave the solitude of this great landform without having explored it more. A few hours more and I will be on a plane and back to the hustle and bustle of the oil city once again. In Belem, I treat myself to a nicer room with a nice hot private shower and TV and sushi down the street. Choosing the hotel for its breakfast, then realizing, I will not even get to eat it, oops. Barely making it to the plane on time, I find that I am not the only one. Once on the plane I begin to face the reality that I return to. The trip will remain ingrained in my mind. A starting point for further explorations.

Spending a lot of time in a boat, I was aching for a little movement. However, I would not trade my experience for anything. Upon entering the igapo, swamp, the smell filled my head. I have entered into never, never land where life springs from the water releasing a whirlwind of fragrances. The wondrous scents are a combination of flowers and the many medicinal tree barks.