27 do Julho, Salvador de Bahia - Brazil
Salvador is called "Africa in exile" because it is the most African city in the Western Hemisphere. The African influence can be seen in the men and women who carry carefully balanced loads on their heads, it can be heard in the Bahian music with African rhythms, and it can be tasted in the food sold on the street that is the same as in Senegal and Nigeria. Now the capital of Bahia state, Salvador was the reigning capital of Brazil until 1763. The Pelourinho is the historic center of Salvador. It gets its name from the Portuguese word pillory, because it was once the site of a pillory where unscrupulous tradesmen were publicly punished and ridiculed. The Pelourinho was once and is today the center of Bohemian activity in the city.
Upon arrival in Salvador (after 2 excruciatingly long overnight bus rides) we stormed around the neighborhood on the outskirts of the Pelourinho in the pouring rain to find a place to call home for 5 days. Once we were settled in we went in search of breakfast, and at a restaurant around the corner from our hostel we met a very friendly ex-patriot named Brit. We were impressed with his command of the Portuguese language, and he told us a little secret that has helped a bit...Portuguese is very similar to Latin. For example, the word "man" in Latin is almost identical to the word "man" in Portuguese. With Billy´s exposure to Latin in high school, Jen has new confidence in his ability to speak Portuguese, and we are gradually learning new words and phrases from Brazilians and subtitles on TV.
Our new friend Brit talked about his reasons for leaving the US, which included ageism (he is in his 50s and said that he started to feel useless and unwanted in the States when he got upwards of age 40), lack of community, inability to strike up new friendships after college or your first few jobs, absence of loving familial relationships and public display of affection (here you see father and son walking together, son with his arm around his dad...and mothers and daughters are always holding hands), and the incessant obsessions with work, possessions, diets, and sports. We spent so many hours chatting with Brit about his life in Salvador that the next time we looked at the clock it was time for lunch.
So, Brit took us on a quick tour of the Pelourinho and then to his favorite haunt for lunch. Our tour included the notable churches and many plazas in the Pelourinho, and he pointed out where we should be careful of pickpockets and explained how to handle the situation if we were robbed (carry small amounts of cash, cooperate and don´t let it shake you up). He has been robbed 4 times in 4 years here, and swears that Rio is a much more dangerous city, but we have been warned to be careful as the Pelourinho is located near the city´s crack den. Many people that travel here say that they feel little hands in their pockets often, especially in crowds. Unfortunately, the next time we saw Brit in the street he told us that his house and car had been burglarized, so that makes it 5 times in 4 years. He lives in a bad part of the city, far from the center, where lawlessness seems to prevail, and as an ex-pat he is an easy target with little hope for protection by law enforcement agencies here.
Brit taught us the European finger wave, which is yet another popular Brazilian hand signal. We´ve seen it demonstrated by locals to ward off aggressive vendors on the street. The street vendors here have been known to tie a ribbon around a gringo´s wrist and call it a "presente." Then they follow the tourist around until money is handed over. There are many scams like these that we are becoming wise to.
Brit´s lunchtime hangout is a restaurant that serves small plastic cups full of sugar cane alcohol (called cachaça or pinga) that is infused with flavors like ginger, tamarind and cinnamon. We ate sausages and fried chicken while sipping on cachaça. As Brit imbibed more of the tasty Brazilian firewater, he began telling us jokes. He shared our political views and told jokes about the adversarial relationship between Brazil and Argentina. During a visit to Brazil, President Ronald Reagan stumbled during a speech in Brasilia saying that he was pleased to be in "Bolivia, eh... Bogotá... Brazil." Brazilians are still upset about this and they believe that many Americans regularly confuse Brazil and Argentina, and mistake Buenos Aires for the Brazilian capital. A popular joke in Brazil after 9/11 was that the then and current president, Lula, called the White House to claim Brazilian responsibility for the terrorist attacks on 9/11 in hopes that the US would retaliate against Argentina and mistakenly bomb Buenos Aires. Another joke was set during the times of Imperial Brazil, when Emporer Dom Pedro the Second attended the World's Columbian Exposition in Chicago, 1893. On display was a state-of-the-art steam locomotive. When Dom Pedro learned that the locomotive could travel at a speed of 20 revolutions per minute he said, "It can´t keep up with Argentina."
We arrived in Salvador on a Tuesday and when we hit the streets that night we were pleasantly surprised by the vibrance of the city. The Pelourinho is composed of churches and buildings erected in the 17th and 18th centuries. Some are dilapidated and decaying, while others have been restored by the Bahian government and UNESCO starting in the 1990s. The Pelourinho has been called the finest complex of colonial architecture in Latin America. Against the backdrop of this beautifully crumbling collection of plazas, churches and homes on the hill overlooking a grand natural bay is a thriving nightlife. On Tuesday night we wandered around and discovered a colorful cultural performance around every corner. There was a band playing outside in a plaza and locals and tourists perched on steps climbing up the hill to listen to live music for free. A few blocks further in another plaza, there was a capoeira circle formed around high-kicking dancers. In this same plaza Bahianas dressed in traditional 18th century costumes were selling every kind of food and drink imaginable from their street carts. We turned the corner and happened upon an all-female drumming group called Dida performing on the street before an ecstatic audience. In the main plaza, where the so-called Slave Church is located a mass was being held and sounds of song and worship wafted out of the open doors to compete with reggae beats coming from the open-air bar across the street. A guy selling hand-painted t-shirts got a thumbs up from us as we passed by and laughed at his artistic depictions of the White House (a toilet bowl) and GW Burro (the donkey in the White House). There was so much activity and it was such a delight for the senses. Salvador has a pulse like nowhere else we´ve been in South America.
The next night we went out on the town again for dinner and dancing. We met a Brazilian girl from Sao Paulo at our hostel who is a cook, and she recommended that we try a dish called moqueca at a nicer restaurant called Jardim das Delicias. We were happy to splurge on a good meal and split a dish of moqueca, which is buttery white fish cooked in sauce made from coconut milk, tomatoes, red and green peppers, fresh coriander, and palm oil, served with farofa (manioc flour that Brazilians add to everything), and a hot pepper sauce (another condiment that is added to every dish). Then we went to a free Forró concert to see the famous Brazilian dancing that we missed in the northeast (we could never stay awake late enough to catch a Forró show in the beach towns, where this type of music and dance is most popular today). Forró was conceived by the British when they were building railroads in Brazil. The British would throw balls and put up signs saying "For all" (meaning that everyone could come, not only the railway engineers). Brazilians pronounced "for all" as Forró, which soon became the name of a musical style meant for dancing. Forró originated in the northeast of Brazil and is played by the very poor. Luiz Gonzaga is the artist that made it popular in big Brazilian cities in the 1940s. We enjoyed watching couples fervidly dance in circles around the concert hall, but we didn´t give it a try ourselves.
Brazil is not a great place for anyone on a diet. A common way to eat here is comida por kilo, which is buffet style where you pay for lunch or dinner by the kilo. This combined with cafe de manha (filling Brazilian breakfasts) is a dangerous combination for anyone counting calories. We have also become fond of vitaminas, which are thick fruit drinks made with milk...like a milkshake, but more frothy. Brazilian black beans (feijao) and rice are standard sides that come with practically every meal, but the best of the Brazilian bean dishes is feijoada completa, which we ate in Sao Luis for lunch one Saturday. This specialty is made with several meat ingredients (jerked beef, smoked sausage, salt pork, smoked tongue), spices, herbs and veggies. It is very savory and delicious. Guarana soda is a popular carbonated fruit drink that is Brazil´s Coca-Cola, it tastes like ginger ale with a hint of cherry, and is refreshing and light. Acaraje is the best of the street food we´ve sampled. All of the street food has origins in West Africa, and this is a kidney bean dumpling fried in palm oil and topped with dried shrimp and coconut milk pate, green tomatoes, and hot sauce.
We plan to take advantage of our time here in Salvador, tonight we are going to see Candomble ceremony, and tomorrow we will go with our Argentine housemate to see a Bossa Nova show at the bar across the street from our hostel.
22 do Julho, Canoa Quebrada - Brazil
In Portuguese Canoa Quebrada means Broken Boat. As far as we could tell, all of the boats in this beach town were fully functioning, so we´re not sure how the name came about. We rented a one-room apartment on the beach for 5 nights at a cool $8 US a night and cooked our own meals to economize even more. A trip to the northeastern beaches in Brazil can be very reasonably priced compared to travel in the rest of the country...perhaps this is why we decided to extend our stay at the beaches. The weather was also an incentive, as it is warm and sunny even in "winter" in this part of the country. We had heard from other travelers that it was rainy and cold south of Salvador, so we savored our time in the northeast and spent days soaking up the sun during long walks on the beach, swimming in the warm Atlantic Ocean, hanging in hammocks and reading, and talking about our future plans and schemes.
One afternoon while we were walking along the beach we approached an old man who was struggling to push his jangada into the water. His old, thin frame was pushing with all its might and wasn´t making very much progress. Jangadas are small rafts particular to the northeastern region of Brazil that are used extensively for fishing. Some jangadas have colorful and distinctly shaped sails, and others without sails are scooted around the water with a long, thick paddle. The old man was about 70 years old and he was doing this labor intensive job alone (with a small grandson or great-grandson at the helm of the boat wearing sunglasses and pretending to supervise the operation), so we offered to assist him. He was a bit suspicious of us at first, especially because we couldn´t speak Portuguese, so I´m sure that he was not sure of our intentions. We pitched in and before we knew it another 2 volunteers came out of nowhere to help us. The fishermen in Canoa Quebrada store their jangadas on higher ground on the beach, far from the high tide line. They use a system similar to the Incan stone method of transport to push these heavy boats all the way to the ocean´s edge. Jen took over the job of moving the 2 long planks forward to create rails, Billy´s job was to move the heavy, thick log forward (which served as wheels for the boat to glide on), and the 2 other volunteers pushed the back of the boat while the old guy replaced his grandson at the helm of the operation. In no time the old man was paddling out to sea to catch fish. It felt good to help him out and make some friends in the process.
We were so excited to have a kitchen to ourselves that we decided to cook and bake something new each day. Baking a coconut cake (bolo de coco) with Portuguese instructions, metric measurements and a stove with Celsius settings didn´t prove to be easy, but we managed to gobble up the end product regardless of what the cake looked like.
Our apartamento didn´t come with basic cleaning supplies, so we experimented with what we had on hand. We wouldn´t advise doing dishes with laundry detergent on a regular basis, but if you are in a pinch, it does the job.
We must say that our most valuable possession on this trip has been our Swiss Army Knife. We would like to pay homage to the Swiss and their wonderful inventions. We have used it for everything...and we are not sure how we could live without it. Our latest discovery is that it opens cans of tuna fish with the greatest of ease.
We met a lovely Brazilian guy from Sao Paulo who loved telling us stories about the American travelers he has met in Brazil. By the way, we´ve met so many charming Brazilians that we would rank them as the 2nd friendliest people in South America (after Colombians). July is the vacation month for Brazilians, and the majority of the Brazilians we meet are from Sao Paulo. This guy Ernesto relayed stories about our countrymen that had us feeling like very savvy travelers by comparison. He heard extensively about one American guy from the Bronx who was bamboozled by the oldest trick in the Brazilian book. Ernesto was so impressed by this living and breathing New Yorker from the Bronx, which is a fabled place that he had only heard about and seen in movies. Ernesto said that the guy seemed a bit crazy, as was to be expected from an inhabitant of an infamous place like the Bronx. He wore a Brazilian flag bandana on his head and when asked about his life in the Bronx he said an average day revolved around selling and buying drugs. This American guy seemed very tough and street smart indeed, but Ernesto was shocked when he learned that this guy fell victim of "Bom Noite Cinderella." Apparently this is the most popular scam in Brazil...so much so that it even has a name that every Brazilian knows. An unsuspecting gringo meets a beautiful Brazilian woman who plies him with drinks that are laced with sedatives and he wakes up the next day with empty pockets. We got a guilty giggle at this poor guy´s expense and learned another lesson about Brazil´s potential pitfalls.
We enjoyed our time and our temporary home in Canoa Quebrada. We could stand in our kitchen and look out our front door to ogle at the turquoise ocean above our fence. Looking out at the horizon where the water meets the cloudless blue sky gave us a feeling of serenity. Some afternoons the gang of neighbor kids came to our front yard to climb the cashew tree and pick or shake down the nuts. The oldest member of the gang stood underneath the tree to point out the ripe cashews while the younger members of the clan scrambled up the tree´s skinny branches to claim the prize. The cashews in Brazil are tasty, and you can buy them everywhere...on the highways, on the city streets, and just about everywhere else someone is selling cashews.
After 8 wonderfully relaxing days on the beach, we were very tan and ready to move on to Salvador. We had seen enough of the famous incredibly small Brazilian bathing suits (on both men and women) and had heard enough loud music blasting out of cars parked on the beach to tide us over until we arrive in Rio.
18 do Julho - Jericoacoara, Brazil
Jericoacoara is a small beach town that is very remote. To get there we had to take an overnight bus to a small town, from there we had to catch another bus to a smaller town, from there we had to ride in the back of a pick-up truck for three hours to yet a smaller town, then take a 4X4 for 45 minutes to Jericoacoara. We have never before worked so hard to get to the beach. It was quite a pilgrimage to Jeri from the northern part of Brazil. The pick up ride was by far the most interesting leg of the journey to Jeri. We piled into the back of a truck with two guys from New Zealand that we met earlier in Sao Luis who happened to be on our bus, another American couple that was also on our bus, and 21 other people. Yes, we got 26 people and a lot of luggage into one pick up truck. It was no great surprise when the pick-up broke down on the way, and we had to pile into a flat bed truck, where we bumped down the road getting splinters and bruises for another two hours. All of this was after a night of very little sleep on an overnight bus journey, so we were happy to finally arrive at this famous and secluded Brazilian beach.
The town itself is very small, completely built on sand. The streets are sand, and nobody wears shoes or shirts, ever, as far as we could tell. The beach is listed as one of the 10 best beaches in the world, but when we arrived and put it to the test we weren´t sure that it measured up to its reputation. It was very unique, however, and positioned right next to a giant sand dune that is 200 feet tall. The town is situated on a peninsula, and the beach is somehow positioned so that the sun sets over the ocean, which should not happen over the Atlantic in the Americas.
We very quickly got into the swing of things. At sunset, the tradition in Jeri is to walk up to the top of the sand dune to watch the sun go down. Once the last light has vanished, the entire town gathered on the dune cheers and claps. Then, all the kids in the town run down the sheer face of the dune, which is very steep and very high. Then the teenagers descend while turning flips and showing off their tricky maneuvers down the dune (one guy did complete back flips from his feet the entire way down). At last the older people make fools of themselves trying to do something brave but most just fall and roll down the hill. It is very fun, and the entire town participates.
After watching the sunset and running down the dune, everyone heads to the beach in front of the town to watch Capoeira. Capoeira is a dance that was invented by the slaves in Brazil 400 years ago. It was originally used as a way to practice a kind of martial art which they would then use to defend themselves against the Portugese slave masters, but to mask their intent they transformed it into a kind of dance. It is a combination of dance, martial arts, and gymnastics. It is, in one word, incredible. The dancers were accompanied by music and singing, and every night we crowded around the Capoeiristas in a small circle to watch them spar.
The dance started slowly, with some little kids going out and practicing their flips and kicks. Then the adults would come out and dance in slow motion, then gradually speed up as the fading sun´s light dimmed. It really looks like a choreographed fight, with the dancers kicking right above the head of their opponents, and the opponents crouching into a defensive move while the other dancers jump over them while doing a flip. The speed at which this is done, and the amount of incredible flips, near misses with kicks and punches, and show of strength were truly mesmerizing. Some of the dancers did handstands with one arm while kicking their legs up and down with great power, some posed in the air, upside down with one arm on the ground, and their legs twisted in a 90 degree angle to their body. One guy was so fast and could do so many flips that you could not really track what he was doing. This was all happening at sundown, and the darker it became the faster and more intense the dance got. We just loved it, and would watch with tears in our eyes every night, it is just a moving experience. The whole crowd clapped and chanted along to the music, it was a truly great event every night. The funniest part is how very abruptly the music would end, the dance would stop, and everyone would just walk away. This incredible event ended just like that, no grand finale or anything, music over, crowd dispersed, that´s it until the next evening.
We never missed a sunset or Capoeira session the 5 days we were in Jeri. We generally spent the days walking along the dunes outside of town, looking for deserted beaches, which were very easy to find. We swam a lot in the warm water, and generally enjoyed ourselves. One day we took a dune buggy (a small, three seater) to the nearby national park and lake, but it was not as impressive as Lencois Marenhenses.
We made friends with the two guys from New Zealand who are cave guides on a two year trip around the world. They invited us over to their house for dinner, where they prepared the backpackers special--pasta, canned tuna fish, and ketchup. It tasted better than it sounds, and it was nice to be invited over for dinner by two younger guys. We have noticed that we are generally 10 years older than anyone else we meet doing the same kind of thing in South America. It makes us feel young again. We also stayed in a very nice Pousada where we hung our hammocks outside to relax in them and were spoiled by the very friendly owners of the place. Every morning we woke up to a breakfast of 5 different fresh fruits, cakes, juices, coffee, bread and eggs. Cafe de Manha in Brazil is a great way to start the day. Every night we ate dinner at the same restaurant. A local from Jeri converted her home into a restaurant and served either fish, steak, or chicken, along with beans and rice for 5 Reais ($2 US). It was a great deal and we found nothing else that could compete in value. In the evenings along the main street tons of street carts set up shop and sold drinks, mainly Brazilian tropical cocktails. Every night there was a small party in the street, and apparently after we went to bed the real parties began (as evidenced by our neighbor from Holland who kept us up until sunrise one night).
Jericoacoara was a bit like a vacation, but after the Amazon and all the traveling we did to get to the beach, we felt we deserved some downtime. We met a lot of people that have taken up residency in Jeri for 2 or 3 months, and we can understand why, as the town just has a great atmosphere. We were ready to leave after 4 nights because Jeri is just a little too slow for us, but worth it for a place to rest and enjoy the beach.
13 do Julho - Lencois Marenhenses, Brazil
There is a National Park about 4 hours by bus from Sao Luis which is all sand dunes and fresh water lakes that form between the dunes, so we decided to take the bus and see them before heading off further South. The town outside the dunes is called Barreirinhas, and is really just a small jumping off point for the dunes and the National Park. We arrived late at night because our bus stopped every 3 minutes to either pick someone up, or drop them off...a short trip turned into a long journey...as we are becoming accustomed to with Brazilian bus rides. We have been on a lot of slow buses, but this one takes the cake. We would pull into a bus station in a small town, let some people on and off, then pull out of the station to continue on, then two blocks later we would stop and pick up other passengers. Then we would go one more block, and drop of some passengers, then go three more blocks and pick up more. This was repeated time and time again, and was very annoying on a hot, crowded bus. Some things we much prefer in North America.
We got to town and then made our plans to go to the dunes the next morning and found a small Pousada to spend the night there. We took a kind of dune buggy that could hold about 16 people out to the dunes. We drove for about an hour over the smaller dunes and through some large puddles of water that overflowed into the buggy and got our feet wet. We took the ride very gingerly, and it was nice scenery and pretty fun just getting there.
Once we got to the National Park, we left the buggy and went by foot into the dunes. At first sight, they are spectacular. It looks kind of like a lunar landscape, with large rolling sand dunes as far as the eye can see. It was partly cloudy, so in the distance you sould see some dunes illuminated by the sun, and in other places they were under the shadow of the clouds, making an even more dramatic and spectacular view. We walked along the dunes until we got to a large freshwater lake. We were able to run down the dune about 150 feet and jump right into the lake. It was warm water, and very clear and clean. From a distance the different lakes either shine blue from reflecting the sky, or green from the algae that grows in the bottom. The different colors were in stark contrast to the perfectly white, fine sand that made up the dunes.
We both then walked about another 15 minutes away from the tour group and ran up and down the different dunes, taking pictures of us jumping off the edges and landing in the sand and rolling down the dunes sometimes face first. It was a lot of fun, and a very different experience for us. We have never been to a National Park anything like this one. Some of the dunes reached 450 feet high. It was a great place to explore and run around like children.
When it was time for us to head back to the town to catch our bus on to the next destination, we were in for quite a surprise. There were about 10 different buggies like ours that were full of tourists all going back at the same time. On our way to the dunes, we had to cross a river where the buggy drives onto a small barge, and another boat pushes the barge across the river and we get off there and keep going. Since only one buggy can go at a time, and there are about 10 buggies all leaving at exactly the same time, it is a race to be the first one to the river, or else you can end up waiting for almost an hour to get across. We started in about 5th place. We did not know any of this at the time, but were surprised at how once the last person got on the buggy, the dirver hit the gas and sped off completely unlike how he drove us to the dunes in the morning. We had to hold on as he jumped over dunes, splashed through huge lakes, and generally drove like a complete madman. We all let out a cheer everytime he passed another buggy though, some of it elation, some of it nervous energy. We got to the river crossing first, with white knuckles and a little out of breath, and managed to catch the first ferry across. It was like the Paris to Dakar Rally and we had just claimed a huge victory, the driver was quite happy with his efforts, shaking everyones hands.
We got back to town and were trying to arrange to get a bus to Sao Luis where we were to take a night bus to Jericoacoara. It was going to be close, so we were in a rush. When we got back to the tour agency where we left our bags, the owner, who spoke no English or Spanish, had arragned for us to get a ride from someone who was going that way, for the same fee as the bus. We were happy not have to get back on the bus of a million stops, and squeezed with all of our stuff into the back seat of a compact car. We got there in half the time it took us to go in the opposite direction, and listened to 80´s Classics and sang along with the dirver and other passenger. It is really too bad that we don´t speak Portugese, becuse in these situations in Spanish speaking countries we can learn about people and talk to them, here we basically can not talk beyond just getting basics taken care of, and even that can be hard sometimes. We made it in plenty of time to take a shower at the bus station, change clothes, eat dinner, and get ready for the night bus.
8 do Julho - Manaus, Belem, Sao Luis (BRAZIL)
We were quite anxious to see Brazil beyond the Amazon region after our boat cruise. When we set foot in Manaus, the capital of the Brazilian Amazonas State, at 5am we went directly to a travel agent and planned to wait patiently for the office to open to inquire about flights. We didn´t think that we could bear to get back on another cargo boat to complete the journey to the mouth of the Amazon River. We´d had a sleepless night and were looking to kill some time and muster some energy that morning, so we splurged on a buffet breakfast at a Best Western Hotel in Manaus. This was our first meal off of the cargo boat and it was our introduction to Brazil´s cafe de manha (breakfast). Generally every hotel provides a buffet breakfast for its guests, and this important meal-of-the-day includes things like cakes, juice, eggs, breads, fruits, ham, cheese, coffee, cereal, yogurt, milk, etc. (and is always included in the price of a room no matter how budget the hotel or hostel is). At home we would have thought of the Best Western as basic accomodation, but after being on a cargo ship for almost a week, the Best Western in Manaus seemed like a 5 star hotel to grubby traveler´s eyes. We ate a gigantic breakfast there while waiting for the travel agent´s office to open at 8am.
When we met with a travel agent we were able to book reasonable flights to Belem and we were relieved that we could travel the next leg of our trip by air. There was a small detail that we didn´t notice about our flight, which we discovered the following day at the airport. Our flight was scheduled for 3am that night instead of 3pm the next day, so when we showed up at the airport at 1pm the following day, we were informed that we had missed our flight by 12 hours. We were very disappointed to learn that we would have to pay extra to take a later flight and we would be stuck in Manaus for another couple of days. Our first hard lessons about Brazil taught us that everything is in military time, flights do leave at all hours of the night, and Portuguese is not an easy language (even if you think you know Spanish pretty well).
Yes, Brazilians talk funny. Oi bom dia means good morning in Portuguese, and it sounds nothing like it is written. Oi bom dia is about the only thing we can understand or say in Portuguese, so it makes sense that we might confuse an important detail like a flight time. We´re still not accustomed to speaking in Spanish and being responded to in Portuguese. We hope that conversing here will get easier after a few Caipirinhas (a strong Brazilian cocktail made with lime juice, sugar, and sugar cane alcohol)...we´ll give that a try and report back.
So, we missed our flight, but this turn of events seemed to be quite fortuitous for us in the end. Over the next few days in Manaus we happened to meet a fellow San Franciscan who had just traveled from Sao Luis to Belem by bus, and he had some very useful information about that leg of his trip. We were planning to travel that same route by bus going from Belem to Sao Luis (the opposite direction) in a few days. Sam recounted the story of his bus ride and begged us not to take an overnight bus, so that we could avoid a similar fate. He said that the road was full of potholes and slowed down almost to a stop very often, and at one of these occasions three men jumped on the bus with guns and robbed all the passengers at gunpoint. No one was hurt, but all valuables and cash were taken from the passengers. This was scary news, and we were glad to have met Sam to glean a piece of timely advice from him. The funny thing is that we thought Colombia would be the most dangerous place to travel, but we have heard more stories like these about Brazil than about any other South American country. It is a strange paradox, because Brazil is the most prosperous of all South American countries. Sao Paulo (the 3rd largest city in the world) is the financial capital of the entire continent. To give you a better idea of just how prosperous it is, a Brazilian economist that we met in Jericoacoara told us that Sao Paulo´s financial standing compares to that of California.
With a few days to kill in Manaus before our next flight, we did our best to avoid the heat of the days (Manaus is the hottest city in Brazil) and wandered around the historic center at night. We mentioned how strange it was to pull into the port of this city after seeing little more than huts along the Amazon for 5 days, but it was even more bizarre to see women strutting around in high heels, modern skyscrapers, and a sophisticated cultural and social environment here in the middle of the Amazon.
Our journey to Sao Luis began at 1am with a trip to the airport to catch our 3am flight. We arrived in Belem just in time to get on a 15 hour bus to Sao Luis. This was the longest day in the history of our travels so far. The road to Sao Luis was very poor (exactly as Sam had described), but we had no trouble with hijackers, and we were too tired to worry about it anyway. We were more concerned with the price of our bus ticket, which was astronomically high compared to what we have paid for bus travel in every other country here. We spent hours just staring out the window of the bus at the landscape outside, which was tropical jungle green dotted with bright colored houses with bicycles parked outside. When we finally arrived in Sao Luis, we were all too happy to get into bed and catch up on sleep after a marathon journey.
Sao Luis is a very quaint French colonial town that was once a center of the slave trade in Brazil, so it is rich in African culture. We will try to paint a picture of the town. Imagine a French colonial style building tiled and painted in bright colors. Beautiful porcelain tiles from around the world adorn the buildings here, which were once cleverly used as a building material to keep houses cooler inside. An Afro-Brazilian man rides by on a mule-drawn cart carrying palm fronds to the Reviver section of town (the colonial center that is half crumbling and half restored) where tonight there will be a public festa (party) for the dance festival called Bumba-Meu-Boi. There are music and dance performances every night beginning in mid-June through July in Sao Luis for this festival. We really enjoyed Sao Luis, even though we only had two days there.
In Sao Luis we met two guys from New Zealand and a girl from Denmark that we traveled with to Jericoacoara...these guys were heaps of laughs. They told us that New Zealand rugby players drink their shots the following way--they squirt a lime in their eye, snort the salt, then they down the liquor to kill the pain. Point taken...Kiwi rugby players are tougher than American football players. When we first met Grant (one of the cave guiding Kiwis) he told us that he once had to defend his reasons for traveling to an older American guy who presumed that he was a spoiled kid on a parent-sponsored trip around the world. Grant explained that he was `investing in himself` by traveling on a budget in foreign places...this is part of his education about the world. Later when we were making the 4 hour journey to Jericoacoara in the back of a pick-up truck with 26 other people, we asked him if this was all part of his investment plan.
A few initial observations about Brazilians...they have a very healthy obsession with cold beverages and loud music. Brazilians have shown us how to drink beer at an acceptable temperature, and we are convinced that the rest of the world will eventually catch on. Now when we talk about measurements of cold, we say Brazilian cold to define the freezing point. Brazilians love their hand signals. We have happily adopted the thumbs up signal to communicate that everything is good (ta bom) and the hand to mouth gesture to signify eating. We may not speak a word of Portuguese, but we are becoming adept at Brazilian sign language.
5 de Julio, Traveling the Amazon River between Colombia and Brazil
The Amazon is so wide in places that it looks more like a lake than a river, but when you are standing on the banks you can see the force with which the river flows and carries massive amounts of water and sediment from the runoff of the Andes in Peru all the way to the river's mouth on the Atlantic.
Some staggering statistics about the largest river system in the world - the Amazon basin contains 6 million square kilometers of river and jungle and spans 8 South American countries. The basin contains 17 percent of the world's fresh water. There are 45,000 miles of navigable rivers. Average riverflow at its mouth is 12 billion liters a minute (12 times that of the Mississippi). Oceangoing vessels can sail 3,500 kilometers inland up the Amazon mainstream to Iquitos, Peru. All this puts in perspective the size of the river, and what is even more amazing is the size of the jungle that surrounds it.
The Amazon was given its name by a Spanish explorer who floated down the Rio Napo to its confluence with the Amazon (near Iquitos). He left an Andean expedition to forage for supplies. As he floated down river to the mouth of the Amazon, his expedition was attacked by Indians, some of them female, like the Amazons of Greek mythology (as he would later report). And so the Amazon was named. We decided to follow Francisco de Orellana's footprints down river to see as much of this mythical and gargantuan river as possible.
Our journey started in Tabatinga, Brazil which is really just the Brazilian half of Leticia, Colombia. The city is really one, and there are no markers that define the international line except some people exchanging money on the Brazilian side. We got hammock space on a cargo boat that looks a bit like a river boat would in the States, but there are no seats or cabins, only open areas to hang hammocks for the passengers. We arrived 6 hours before departure as we were told to do to insure we would get good hammock space, not by the bathrooms or kitchen (these turned out to the same area). We put our hammocks up as we were some of the first people on the boat, and we decided it would be a nice trip to relax and enjoy views of the Amazon from our hammocks.
After about 3 hours, the boat was beginning to get really full. Our once spacious hammock spot and been totally diminished, and we were surrounded by families of 8 with crying kids, groups of loud drunk men, and hammocks everywhere. Our mood quickly changed about our fate on the boat. We finally pushed off and we were feeling that things would be OK, no more people and we had just enough space to keep us sane and to allow us to sleep comfortably. That feeling was swiftly replaced by fear as we made multiple stops, each one picking up more and more people. It got to the point where we had people putting their hammocks above and below us, and it was impossible to be in the hammock without having 4 or 5 different people touching you.
We decided to go up to the roof to get some sun and to escape the slave boat conditions that we were going to have to sleep in. On the roof there was a bar with people playing cards and dominoes, all of which were drinking beer at 7 AM everyday of the trip. We went back down to check on our stuff, and found another hamock had appeared right between the two of ours, literally giving us no room at all to breathe. This was the last straw for Jen. She started taking the hammock down when the owner came back and started tying it back up. This was not a good move on his part, because he got a giant tongue lashing in English by an irate American girl from San Francisco. Jen was yelling at him, red in the face, saying between English insults, "no hay espacio" which means there is no space. Eventually the guy took his hammock down and stormed off sullenly. This was a big hit with the group of Colombian guys from Cali that were our neighbors. They were laughing and imitating Jen "no hay espacio" waving their finger in the air and mimicking her untying his hammock. They loved it, and it gained their respect. From that point on we were initiated into what we called the Cali Cartel. It was, however, quite uncomfortable having to see the guy we kicked out for the rest for the trip.
The Cartel proved to be very useful and important for our journey. They carved out space for us and put us right between the four of them. Victor Hugo, Luis Alfonso, Gerardo and Maicol became our friends and protectors during the trip. The boat was full of thieves as well, and the other gringos all had something stolen from them (one girl had her shoes stolen when she was sleeping) while on the boat, but nobody messed with the Cali Cartel. We would stay up late talking to them, and listening to their stories of Cali and the drug wars there. One of them lived in a house bought by head of the real Cali Cartel 10 years ago. His mother was one of their cooks for parties, and she would be driven to his Finca with a hood over her head so she would not know where they were going. Once she was inside their secretive lairs everyone was very nice, and she noticed many famous soccer players and politicians in attendance. The head of the operation is one of the Roriguez brothers, was never caught, and now lives in the States.
Now that we had barely adequate hammock space, and people watching our stuff, we could spend more time on the top deck watching the huge river pass by, and the jungle that is unbelievably expansive and alive. We could see the little villages that occupy this mostly uninhabited part of the world, and we could see the poverty that we have come to know in Amazonia. It is one of the poorest places on earth, and many people don't have anything and still hunt for food and sleep in the jungle. Most of the passengers on the boat were from these small villages and were heading up to the big city of Manaus to visit family or friends.
Meals on the boat were also quite interesting. In the back of the area where the hammocks were, there were 4 bathrooms, a kitchen, and a table that seated 12 people. Meals were served when a bell rang, and people would eat in shifts of 12 at a time. This was a logistical nightmare as there were more than 200 people on the boat, and all this traffic was congregating where the few bathrooms were located. So, how it worked was 12 people would sit, food would be put out, and people would scoop as much on their plates as they could and gobble food down quickly before the next shift of people were to sit down. The kitchen only had 12 plates, so after someone was finished eating they would grab the plate and wash it in the brown river and put it back for the next group. It was very hectic, and we learned quickly how to be aggressive and make sure we got a spot and food before it was all gone. The meal schedule was also interesting, breakfast at 5 AM, lunch at 10:30, and diner at 4:30.
Although the trip was long (3 nights turned into 4) and we had no personal space, and the ship was dirty and full of drunks and thieves, we did get to meet some fantastic people. Besides the group from Cali, we had two adorable families hanging in hammocks nearby. Billy met a little girl who had a giant smile and wouldn't talk very much. This was OK with him because he doesn't know any Portugese, so they would communicate with hand signals and smiles and facial gestures. After a while of talking and playing, it seemed that her lack of speech was not normal shyness. Billy's fears were confirmed when another even younger girl came up and said, "Ella no habla, muta." She doesn't speak, she is mute. It was a treat to spend so much time with such a cute girl and to make her happy by taking the time to understand her gestures and looks. Everytime she tried to explain something with her hands, and anyone showed understanding of what she was trying to say, she would beam with a huge smile of accomplishment. Neither of us will ever forget her, there was something about her that was very touching. We also had a whole family of 7 children on the other side of us, and they were all talkative, tri-lingual (Spanish, Portugese and indigenous dialect) and very cute too. They would spend the days running around, teaching the smaller ones how to dance, and talking to us. The eldest was a 11 year old one-eyed boy who ruled the coup with an iron fist. If anyone got out of line, he would whack them on the head. He was also very charismatic and fun to talk to.
Overall we can not say that we would recommend this method of travel, or that we would do it again. After 1000 miles in such a cramped space all you want to do is get off the boat. However, the people we met made it a really special journey. When we took out the camera the last night it was actually sad to take the pictures of people we know we will never see again. They all loved the camera, even the Cartel, and we ended up taking tons of pictures as everyone wanted to be in a photo. We have seen so many beautiful things, and the jungle is one of them, especially its great expanse and sense of endlessness, but the people are always what makes the experiences truly memorable.
We arrived in Manaus, Brazil at 2 AM, 20 hours later than we were supposed to. We were in shock after seeing only tiny villages of three to four huts for 5 days when we arrived in a city of 2 million people, with highrise buildings and lights and a giant port. It might have been the strangest thing we have seen so far on this trip. A giant oasis in a completely remote and underdeveloped part of the world.
1 de Julio, Amazonas - Colombia
The small jungle town of Leticia is Colombia's foothold in Amazonas. It is like an urban island in the middle of the Amazon jungle. When we flew into Leticia we were able to see the jungle from above. The Colombian jungle stretched for hundreds of miles, as far as the eye could see. It is a huge expanse of green without clearing or development and with tributaries of the Amazon river winding through like a snake. The clouds above the jungle cast black shadows on the otherwise green homogenous uninterrupted space. As we descended and got closer to the ground we could start to make out details of the treetops. We spotted the mammoth Amazon river just before landing, and from that height it looked like a wide, brown, silvery column of water.
There is no road into Leticia, which means that the only way in or out is by airplane or boat. When our plans to go to Caracas to visit our friend David fell through, we learned that we could intead make our way to the northern coastal region of Brazil by boat on the Amazon starting in Leticia and floating down river to Belem. When we arrived in Leticia and gathered information about river boat schedules, we discovered that we had some extra time on our hands and an opportunity to go back into the jungle again. We found ourselves a guide (Daniel) who tailored a jungle trek to our desires. When he asked about our dreams of the Amazon we told him that we wished to stay overnight in the jungle, see a sloth, butterflies, flora and fauna, get to know the way of life of the indigenous Amazon tribes, and drink Ayahuasca with a shaman. We had 3 nights and 4 days before the next river boat was scheduled to leave for Manaus, so we created an itinerary around this timeline and set out for our journey into the jungle.
The day we left Leticia we spent most of our time on a boat with Domingo (our trusty boat driver) and Daniel traveling the Amazon and its tributaries to get as far away from civilization as possible. As we cruised up river away from Leticia our guide pointed out the borders of Colombia, Brazil, and Peru, which converge at the river's edges. He also pointed out the banks of the river where giant pieces of land were freshly displaced by the constant force of the moving water. Nearby islands had been formed anew as the mud from the banks collected in shallower spots. Daniel pointed out the brown color and opaque quality of the river, which is made up of a mixture of mud and water. He said that if you were to put a cup of river water into a glass and let it sit for awhile, the mud would settle to the bottom of the glass and separate into a layer of water sitting on top of a layer of mud. We were on a very comfortable boat, big enough to accommodate 10 people with a large shade tarp and cushions on bench seats.
Our first stop was at Monkey Island (Isla de los Mikos), aptly named for the population of squirrel monkeys that live in the trees there. We donned our knee high rubber boots, slathered ourselves with mosquito repellent and left the boat on the shore to follow Daniel into the jungle. There was no path, so we stayed close behind Daniel as he cut down obstacles with a machete. This is not as much fun as it may sound, because the dense jungle is a bit difficult to negotiate with sticky spider webs, low hanging vines, and thick green growth from the ground up to the canopy. Daniel's machete hardly carved out a trail in the thick vegetation, so if we didn't keep up with him we would quickly lose our way. We hiked to the middle of the island where we could hear squirrel monkeys overhead in the trees. We sat patiently with a banana in hand in hopes of attracting them, but unlike the Bolivian squirrel monkeys in the Pampas that jumped out of the trees onto our heads, these monkeys were too wild to come near us. We then walked to the other side of the island to see water lillies in a lake. On the way we encountered a private security guard who informed us that the island had recently been purchased by the owner of the largest hotel in Leticia. The island is now private property and access to it is restricted. We could see the disappointment and despair in Daniel's face when he later translated the news to us and said, "Poor monkeys."
We continued on somberly (this time on a worn path) and we spotted an owl in the middle of the trail. It must have been a baby that strayed from the nest because it shouldn't have been out in the open like that in broad daylight (they are blind in the light of day) and it didn't fly away when we approached. It raised its wings up in defense if we tried to move closer to it. We found ourselves mesmerized by its striking coloring and slow blinking eyes. We continued on again to a lake where water lillies grow and along the way Daniel pointed out many trees, plants and fruits and their medicinal uses. The sap from one tree is used to concoct a drug to treat impotence. The fallen, rotten, sour smelling fruit from another tree is used to treat the common cold (gripa). Daniel pointed out a cacao plant. The seed of the cacao plant is used in making chocolate, cocoa, and cocoa butter. We stopped at the lake to admire large systems of underwater roots that sprouted giant lily pads and delicate flowers of colors that change from purple to white as they bloom. We made our way back to the boat for lunch to later resume the journey up river to a small tributary of the Amazon where it would be easier to spot a sloth.
We were stopped at a Peruvian police checkpoint for some time while Daniel negotiated our entrance to this part of the river. Here where the two rivers met, we could see a drastic change in the color of the water. The tributary was a dark brown color, like black Colombian coffee, and the Amazon's color looked like creamy milk chocolate in comparison. We watched a man fishing with a net in a small wooden canoe. His silhouette was magical as he stood in his boat and cast his circular net into the water and then pulled it out of the river to capture any fish caught in it. This was a very serene image of life on the Amazon. A pink dolphin popped up for air at the convergence of these two rivers. Daniel explained how clever the dolphins are as they wait for unsuspecting fish to swim down river and into their bellies at these strategic places where two rivers meet. The theiving dolphins have devised an even craftier way of catching dinner. They nibble on big fish (like Dorado or Pirarucu, which can easily grow larger than a medium sized man) when they are caught in fishermen's nets and unable to escape. Fishermen often pull their catches out of the water to find that they are missing heads and tails or big chunks have been bitten out of their sides.
We drifted down this smaller, darker river and craned our necks for 2 hours looking for a sloth in the treetops lining the river. These 3 toed sloths are not easy to find because they look just like termite nests high up in the branches of trees. There are also not many of them left in the jungle near villages, because they are hunted for their meat. Daniel pointed out the 2 types of trees where they live and after hours of searching we finally spotted one. We stopped the boat to get a good look at him and we watched as he slowly climbed further up to the very top branches of the tree where he could eat the tender new leaves at the tips of the highest branches and sleep for the night. For us, it was very special to see one of these strange creatures in the wild. We didn´t have binoculars, so we couldn´t see details, but we could see him hanging there by both arms with his little head peeking out at us. As we continued down the river every once in awhile we´d see a group of 50 or so butterflies flitting around a particular spot on shore, creating a flurry of color and movement to contrast with the constant brown of the river and the solid green vegetation on the riverbanks.
As the sun was setting we drove the boat to a lagoon that was so calm it behaved like a mirror reflecting the brilliant colors in the sky. The surface of the water looked like liquid mercury. We were seeing double the beauty of this sunset in its reproduction. All around us was lit up like the colorful sky at sunset.
We went hunting for caiman after dark and saw plenty of eyes glowing in the beam of our high powered flashlight, but Daniel didn´t catch any of these alligator-like reptiles. Apparently, catching a baby caiman is a measure of an Amazon guide´s skill and a trick that they like to pull out of their hats for the tourists. I was more impressed with the fireflies twinkling in the dark trees and the distant flashes of lightning. The beam of light from Daniel´s floodlight was attracting bugs, which attracted jumping fish that would accidentally land inside our boat and flop around in the dark. The very serious search for caiman turned into a wet fish fiesta in no time.
The first night in the jungle we stayed in a village called Bella Vista with the Ticuna Indians just over the Colombian border in Peru. We hung our hammocks in Don Jose´s home, which was made of wood and built on stilts. Unfortunately, this wasn´t the encounter with indigenous tribes that we had hoped for, as this village seemed to be fairly corrupted by contact with modern civilization. At one point we noticed a huge crowd a people gathered outside of a neighboring home and peering in the open door. Upon investigation we found that everyone was gathered around to watch TV. Some of the people in the village had acquired televisions and stereos and generators to power them. We´ve come to the conclusion that TV has displaced religion as the opiate of the masses, even in places where one would least expect this to be possible. The village was thick with spiders and creepy-crawlies. We could see large black insects skittering underneath the house between the floorboards. The proximity of the pit toilet to the water well was disconcerting as well. Our first night´s disappointing accomodation made the next two nights all the more extraordinary.
In the morning we walked around the village to say hello, wave and smile at the kids playing in the dirt streets. The jungle seemed to sprout up like a manicured lawn kept at bay at the edge of the village. In the river at midday there were kids playing or swimming, women doing dishes or laundry and men in boats spearing fish. Everyone else was either bathing or just cooling off in the water. It was clear to us that much of Ticuna life revolves around the river.
We spent the day on the boat parked in the shade of giant trees while fishing for piranhas. We put meat on a hook at the end of a fishing line and within seconds of dunking our hooks we would have a bite on the line. Most of the time the fish were clever enough to take small bites of the meat without swallowing the hook, but a few times we actually pulled fish out of the water. We didn´t catch any piranhas, but when Domingo did, he was eager to pull back their fish lips and show us their sharp triangular teeth. Our little fishing experiment revealed that under the surface of the murky brown waters, the Amazon is teeming with life.
As the sun was setting we went to another village called La Libertad to see the Jaguas tribe and to meet two members with whom we would be walking into the jungle that night: Amador (one of the village elders) and his grandson (whose name we don´t know, so we´ll call him Nieto). We were introduced to Amador´s family and one of Amador´s other grandchildren was ill, so the family asked us for medicine. We gave them what we had in our first aid kit, but this wasn´t the last time that we were asked for medicine in Amazonia. It seemed that many people didn´t have access to the most basic necessities. We gave the family several fish that we caught earlier in the day and they taught us a new phrase in Spanish, ¨Nos da alegria.¨ (It gives us happiness.) La Libertad was smaller and much more pleasant than Bella Vista. A self-appointed guide and village representative showed us around and introduced us to the village mascot (a giant arco iris snake, or land anaconda, which they insisted Billy drape around his shoulders).
After dark we put our jungle boots on, covered our bodies with mosquito repellent, and trekked into the jungle with Amador and Nieto who planned to spend the night hunting with the two bullets that Daniel brought them. Jen was a little nervous about walking into the jungle at night and staying until morning with no more than a hammock slung between two trees and a mosquito net between us and the insects and animals. Afterall, this is the home of tarantulas, anacondas, jaguars... tigers and bears, oh my! Amador had a rifle for hunting and we weren´t sure if we should be comforted or unsettled by this factor. As we made our way into the jungle Jen wanted to back out at the last minute, she couldn´t believe that she had willingly volunteered for this hair-raising adventure.
We had only our headlamps to guide us, but luckily we had a small path to follow that had been created by the village´s hunters who make trips into the jungle whenever they have bullets. Even so, Jen was worried that one of us might accidentally misstep and land in a tarantula hole or twist an ankle. Daniel told us that in 20 years as a guide the scariest thing that had happened to him was when a tourist dislocated her ankle while walking in the jungle at night far away from the nearest village. He had to create a makeshift camp for the night and find help from men in the village the next morning to carry her to the shaman´s house, who (according to Daniel´s story) put her ankle back in place with a painful procedure that allowed her to walk on it again the next day.
As these nightmarish thoughts were going through Jen´s head, she was startled when our caravan came to a sudden halt. Amador was at the head of our line and Daniel was bringing up the rear. Amador spotted a spider hole on the trail and began digging into the hole to track down the tarantula inside. It wasn´t long before he found it and picked it up to show us his catch, furry and wriggling in Amador´s grip. It was a little smaller than the size of a fist. Amador flipped it over to show us its underside, so we could see its fangs. From what we were told tarantulas only sting and inject venom when they are threatened, but they are otherwise friendly. Daniel provoked it with a stick to show us how the indigenous people make poisonous blow darts with tarantula venom. We watched the deadly spider sink its teeth into the piece of wood and saturate it with venom. At this point Jen was getting edgy while thinking about all the spider holes we would later be sleeping above. We returned the tarantula to its home and continued on and Jen started to relax. She realized that she was being a wimp when she looked down at Nieto´s feet and saw that he was wearing nothing more than a pair of Chuck Taylors. If a little boy in sneakers could do this, then she certainly could rise to the challenge.
Truth be told, it is more pleasant to walk in the jungle at night once you conquer fears. It´s much cooler at night and the sounds are more interesting, because much of the life in the jungle thrives at night. For someone as skiddish as Jen is, it is even better to be in the jungle at night because she could see only as much of the creepy stuff as her flashlight revealed. It was only the sight of glowing sets of spider eyes in the darkness that was bothersome. Otherwise the jungle was enchantingly transformed into a sort of playground for us as we discovered strange things in this new world around us like children. We saw glow-in-the-dark mushrooms and dried leaves that somehow glowed as they decomposed on the jungle floor. We pointed out a silvery and luminescent insect that was hanging from the underside of a leaf. We were moving quickly through the jungle, so mosquitos were not a problem. Jen was calm with the exception of the instances when a hanging vine or leaf brushed her cheek or neck, which again was unnerving. We hiked into the forest for about 3 hours and crossed many streams on precariously placed logs.
When we finally reached a spot from which Amador could hunt, he made a clearing between several trees and laid down palm fronds so that we could hang our hammocks here. It´s funny how quickly a hammock becomes a home. Amador and Nieto set off for the hunt to beat the light of the rising moon. Daniel started a fire and we made coffee, and then we retired to our hammocks to sleep. Of course, at this point Jen had to go to the bathroom, so we disappeared into the brush with a bottle of repellent. Despite our efforts, Jen ended up with 2 dozen mosquito bites where the sun don´t shine. It was a penis envy moment. The mosquitos were thick here and the smoke from our fire was our only protection. To escape them, we crawled into our hammocks and tucked ourselves away in the surrounding nets. We noticed a tiny frog on the outside of Billy´s net, it was the size of a pinky nail...we thought that this was a good omen, because frogs were symbols of fertility in Pre-Colombian times. Once Jen killed all the spiders, mosquitos, grasshoppers, etc. inside her net, we were both laying back and staring up at the canopy above. The shadows of the treetops were so dark compared to the night sky. We realized that we had never seen the color black in nature until that moment. The sound of wind rustling leaves in the canopy (sounds like light rain) lulled us to sleep. We wished we had a recording device to capture all the bewitching noises during the night. There was a bird´s call that sounded like a human voice in conversation. The sounds of insects jumping, birds chirping, and mosquitos buzzing were almost deafening. Billy´s mosquito net had a huge hole in it, so the mosquitos were especially loud in his ears and he didn´t sleep very well. We heard a gunshot far from our camp in the middle of the night and felt conflicted about whether we should be rooting for the triumph of man or animal. We fell back to sleep watching the fire´s embers fade and woke up in the morning to a blazing campfire.
Amador was victorious in the battle between man and nature and when we awoke he was weaving a basket out of palm leaves in which to carry home his family´s dinner. He killed a rodent-like creature that was furry and brown with white spots and long sharp claws. It was probably 25 pounds and about 2 feet long. He said that he saw a monkey, but he couldn´t bring himself to shoot at it. Nieto cut a piece of bark from a tree to fashion into a strap for the basket, and he proudly carried the basket home by fastening the strap to his head. The kill was about half the size of this 10 year old kid, and we wanted to help him as he struggled to balance the weight of the animal on his back.
Walking the same path back to the village during the day was fantastic, because we could actually see our surroundings in the daylight and we weren´t concerned with those nasty nocturnal tarantulas. There were hundreds of mushrooms growing like wildflowers in all shapes, sizes and colors. The trees were colossal and some had thorns or massive roots. Daniel and Amador had a deep understanding of the jungle and as they passed on some of their knowledge, it seemed as if each natural element was carefully placed in the jungle to serve a specific function, allowing the ecosystem to operate in harmony. The thorny tree with raised roots in the shape of a teepee provided a safe shelter for smaller animals escaping the clutches of a jaguar. The towering trees had thick rope-like vines that hung down to the ground, which villagers use to climb to the top of the trees for a better view of the jungle. Huge red ants carried pieces of green leaves as they marched in a line across our path. Butterflies filled the air, the most impressive of which was bright blue and the size of a small child´s head. Daylight illuminated humongous spiderwebs. We drank sweet fresh water from a vine Amador cut down.
When we made it out of the jungle and back to the river we were dying to jump in to cool off, but couldn´t help wondering if we´d encounter a piranha, an electric eel, a stingray or a Candiru fish (according to legend these fish are capable of forcing their way into the body's passageways following a trail of urine and once inside they eat away the mucous membranes and tissues until hemorrhage would kill the fish or the host). We asked the village kids if it was safe to swim and they looked at us as if we were crazy. The next thing we know we had abandoned any thoughts of man-eating underwater monsters and engaged in a joyous water fight with a dozen naked kids in the river. We had officially been baptised and could happily call ourselves Amazonians. At night we would drink Ayahuasca from a shaman´s cup and experience yet another ceremonial ritual to complete our initiation to the Amazon.
We hopped back on the boat after playing with the kids in the river, and headed back towards Brazil to meet the shaman. We went to the main village, and were introduced to our shaman, William. He guided us another hour or so further into the jungle where his Maloca is located. A Maloca is a communal house that is far away from the village where the shaman retreats for spiritual exploration and conducts Ayahuasca ceremonies. It was round and looked exactly the way an Amazonian shaman´s Maloca should look. The inside of the Maloca was dimly lit by a candle on a staff in the center of the room, where the shaman´s wooden chair sat. There were a semi circle of tree stumps surrounding his seat that functioned as stools for us to sit on. It looked like the perfect ceremonial setting, like something out of a movie.
Ayahuasca has been used for thousands of years in Amazonia as a way for the people to communicate with the spirits of their deceased elders, to cleanse the body and mind, and to gain insight into their lives through introspection. The drink itself is made by boiling the root of the Ayahuasca vine together with leaves from another plant (called Yaje) for 8 hours. The active ingredient in the Ayahuasca vine that produces hallucinations does not work when consumed alone, the stomach produces an antibody that destroys it, but yaje deactivates that antibody, and somehow this was figured out many years ago and so this ceremonial potion was born. Drinking Ayahuasca is a deeply important part of Amazonian life, and William is known throughout many villages for helping spiritual seekers through the journey.
We were a bit nervous about the whole thing, being in the middle of the Amazon and drinking this strange substance, but William was very affable and comforting, and had a great sense of humor. When he decided it was time, we went into a separate little house built behind the Maloca to start the ceremony. We sat in a triangle on the floor, the three of us tied white bandanas around our heads, and William blessed the Ayahuasca, poured a cup and drank it. He then repeated the same ritual of blessing, chanting and whistling, and offered the cup to each of us. Ayahuasca has a really strong and bitter flavor, like nothing either of us have tasted before, or ever want to consume again. It tastes like battery acid. After we drank Ayahuasca, we were told to sit by the open window where it would be easier to stand and throw up when the time came. William then blew out the only candle that provided light, so we sat in total darkness, and could only hear the noises of the jungle outside. After about 15 minutes Billy threw up out the window and felt shaky and strange. William then started chanting to the spirits, which was very melodic and calming. We sat there listening to his chanting for hours. The experience is a deeply personal one, and we were told not to touch eachother, and to focus on what we wanted to get out of this ceremony. People not only communicate with the dead, but they try to use these ceremonies to seek answers and to think about how to improve their lives. Some people turn to Ayahuasca for medical help with ailments like diabetes.
After about an hour, we were both feeling very strange, and William was chanting away, when a large bug landed on Jen´s arm, and he screamed and jumped. Two minutes later the same thing happened to Billy. William thought this was hilarious, as he did not believe there was really an "insecto grande" in the jungle that could be jumping in through the window under which we sat. He laughed and was sure that we were hallucinating. I can assure you, it was real. It was strange for us not to be able to ask eachother how the other felt, or hold hands for reassurance, but it was a deeply unique and personal experience for each of us separately.
After another hour we decided to go outside. Walking was not easy, as we felt drunk. The world was spinning and the stars and lightning flashes in the sky appeared much brighter than normal, yet calming. Jen still had not thrown up, but after she walked outside for a minute, she quickly ran back to the window to expell the impurities in her stomach (that is what they call the process, in this way it is a cleansing experience for the body). William would ask us every once in awhile if we were drunk enough (estan borracho?), and we said yes, we did not need any more Ayahuasca, thank you.
After about 4 hours we all became tired and retired back to the larger house to sleep. Jen fell right asleep, but Billy did not sleep a wink all night. There were so many thoughts that would flow through the mind so quickly that sleeping was very difficult to do. The next morning at 6 AM we both rose from our hammocks and regained our normal legs. It had been an incredible experience, and William was the perfect person to guide us through the amazing journey. Although we did not see any ghosts or spirits, we did each have unique and memorable visions, and both have decided to make our lives as shamans in San Francisco (just kidding Mom and Dad).
William drinks Ayahuasca 3 times a week with people, and as we were getting ready to leave, a new crew of locals were coming in to prepare for their ceremony that night. As we said good bye to William, he told us to watch out for the insectos grandes, and then laughed shaking his head. We are still not sure if he really thinks there were no bugs, or if he just wanted to make us think there was nothing there in order to calm us down. Either way, we had an experience of a lifetime deep in the Amazon with a very mystical shaman.
27 de Junio - Bogota, Colombia
Bogota is up in the mountains, and it is quite a bit cooler than the other parts of Colombia that we have visited. We were not expecting cool nights and jackets again, but quickly learned that the capital is different from most of the rest of the country. We arrived by bus late at night because our bus broke down half way between Armenia and Bogota. We wanted to stay in La Candelaria, the old historical section of town, and the bus driver told us that we had passed it and should get out before we reach the bus terminal on the other side of town. He called us a cab from his cell phone, and then dropped us on the side of the road, the cab was waiting and we got right in. We were so tired from the long day and the bus breakdown mishap that we left two bags of gifts including Colombian coffee, cigars, shirts, and other little things in the taxi and were never able to recover these items. That was heartbreaking, but it was nothing too expensive or important. We had heard bad things about Bogota at night, but from our view it looked just like any American city, with people bustling either on their way home or heading out for the night.
We arrived just in time to catch the end of the Colombian league soccer championship, with Medellin Nacional beating Santa Fe de Bogota 2-1. Nacional is the favorite team of the country, and even in Bogota there were plenty of green jerseys worn about the streets, and people driving up and down honking their horns flying the Nacional flag from the back of motorcycles. It was odd to us, because the celebration for Medellin in Bogota would be like people celebrating in Chicago if the Yankees won the World Series, it just would not happen at home. It did, however, make for an exciting arrival in Bogota with a special welcoming committee.
We spent most of the days walking around old town, and going to museums. The Museo de Oro was our first stop, and probably the best museum we have been to in South America. It houses relics of Gold from the rich history of Colombia, a history in gold. Incredible pieces from head dresses, masks, idols, chest plates, scepters, and tons of other religous and cultural pieces adorned the 3 story collection. It was really impressive to see that much gold, only the King Tut exhibit boasts as much gold as this museum. Colombia was once very rich in gold, until the Spanish found it and took most of it. Luckily many pieces were lost for years, and avoided being stolen and melted down by the Spanish. Many of the most incredible pieces have been found in the last 10 years, which we thought was quite amazing. We also visited another Botero museum, which was equally as impressive. It contained all Botero´s work, as well as his personal collection. Not only was he a great artist himself, he had an incredible collection of Rembrant, Monet, Manet, Klimt, Henry Moore, Klee, Picasso, Van Gough and many more famous artists. Another really nice thing was that the museums were either free or only $1 admission. They want the public to have as much access as possible.
Bogota has a pretty rough and tumble reputation, and we saw some signs of it on the streets. There was more pan handling than any other place we have been, and some of it quite aggressive (although nothing like San Francisco). We also noticed that there are thousands of police everywhere on the streets. They are not heavily armed, in fact most don´t even carry guns, but they travel in groups of 4-6, and it is not uncommon to see upwards of 30 police officers within 100 feet of eachother in a square or main thoroughfare.
Since we are heading to the jungle, we thought we should take advantage of our last night in a city for awhile, so we went out to the north part of the city where the lively Zona Rosa section entertains the city all night long. This is an area of about 4 square blocks dedicated to cafes, restaurants, bars, and clubs. We carefully selected a Thai/Japanese place for dinner, then went to a bar for a drink, then went to a salsa club to end the night. The area was completely packed with young party goers, and was a lot of fun. Since we usually don´t go out very late we were dead tired by midnight, but felt like we gave it the old college try.
Just like all the other cities we have been to in South America, Bogota has an old, more run down historical section, and a newer, hip section of town. The old town area was also safer than we had read about and anticipated, and was generally pleasant and lively. People love to dance and sing in Colombia, and we could see that everywhere. In line at the grocery store, out on the street, even in a quiet restaurant a couple was dancing salsa after they pushed their table aside. Everything has a beat and the city moves to that beat. We were pleasantly surprised by the city, but would prefer to live in Medellin, if given the choice, due to the weather.
