Now for something completely different

Time to get back to my travel journal. The reason I've been putting off this entry is because it is so LONG. Considering my ability to write long pieces about nothing -- a saving grace in my days as a newspaper columnist -- is it any surprise that I write at *great length* when I actually have something to recount? But there's some good stuff hidden in here -- once you get past the descriptions of my injuries and ailments. (This is the last of the Amazon. The next journal will be from the Andes, where things get pretty funky in my book.)

14 August, Iquitos, Peru

The last two days, I've not been feeling well enough to write in my journal, particularly by the dim light of kerosene, which was the situation at the lodge. Last night when we returned to Iquitos, I was shaving my legs in the shower when an area of my back I injured while boarding the boat started to spasm fiercely. I could barely move. On top of it, I've been suffering from Altahualpa's Revenge (or Incan Revenge) since Thursday -- something I ate at the lodge has been giving me stomach cramps on & off and the shits. It's not as unpleasant as other illnesses I've gotten while traveling. There's been no fever or body aches, and the shits are controllaable, but the stomach cramps come on unexpectedly and make me feel nauseated. I've started taking some antibiotics, but I don't know if the problem is bacterial or not. I went to the pharmacy last night and was able to get some muscle relaxers, some stomach meds and some corticosterioid cream for our many bug bikes.

So, to catch up...

Friday, we went fishing for the second time. It was the last day for the Dutch couple, so perhaps their sense of urgency attracted the fish. Two other American women joined us on the fishing trip, and one of them -- a Peace Corps worker in Piura -- caught SEVEN fish in less than two hours. It was blistering hot on the river -- late morning, and we were without shade -- but I guess the pirhanas like it hot!

They're cunning little bastards -- over and over again, they managed to eat the bait clean off the hook without getting hooked themselves. In the end, though, we all caught at least one pirhana, and there were several pikes in the catch as well. The one I caught was among the biggest in the group, and I was really pleased to snag one. I even touched the nasty little thing while it was still on the hook.

They are vicious. One of the ones hauled in was too small for eating, so Cleever cut it up into bait on the spot. Even after he had cut off the head, the thing was till trying to bite. Cleever stuck the end of his knife into its mouth, and it chomped down on it. Cleever flung it into the water. Good riddance. You don't want those things flopping around in the bottom of the boat. I read somewhere that Amazonian fishermen are often missing the end of a toe or two because of the pirhanas in the boat.

At lunch that day, we ate the pirhanas, and I finally had my dream come true: to be a *woman* eating a *man*-eating fish. A funny joke in my book. The fish meat was very tasty, but you really had to work hard to eat it. They are small fish -- the one I caught was maybe 8 inches long -- and they are very bony. But, like I said, the meat is very tasty, so it was worth it. Besides it being the very first fish I've ever caught, it was a pirhana to boot. Quite a novelty in all regards.

After lunch that day, Kate and I had a fairly unremarkable hike in the jungle with Ucil. He mostly pointed out medicinal plants and a few weird things like the tree whose sap is used to make poison darts and the tree whose hollow trunk is filled with fire ants and has historically been used to punish people. Adulterers, for example, would be tied to the tree for five minutes and suffer the misery of many fire ant bites. Yikes!

I forgot to mention: on the way back from our fishing trip, four of us stopped at the village of San Juan and bought a few pieces of jewelry. We also saw the village pokey, which is a small brick box -- about 4'x4'x4', wherein are locked up villagers who do something bad. The awful thing looked like an oven, and I expect people could easily die from the heat in there despite the little, four-inch-square window.

A little girl had a pet anaconda, and -- as usual -- even though we didn't really want to, we took a her picture with it and gave her a 1 sole coin in return.

Friday night, I could not sleep because my stomach bothered me too much -- and also the bug bites I had were really itching.

Saturday morning, despite feeling unwell, Kate and I went for a 90-minute or so canoe trip upriver. There really was no current either way, so it was hard going the whole way. Ucil sat in the bow, and I sat in the stern. Kate would only paddle on one side of the boat, and it was hard for me to switch sides because of that. Every time I paddled on the same side as her, I spent a lot of energy correcting the dugout's path. As noted before -- I think -- the paddles are made of a dense wood that makes them very heavy and contributes to fatigue. I also had the job of bailing the dugout when too much water leaked in. I had to do so five or six times. God knows we didn't want to sink in the spot where we'd just been fishing pirhanas the day before!

When it came time to depart for Iquitos, there were eight of us, including the two Americans and two Spanish couples.

Oh -- how can I forget! -- the last night we stayed at the lodge, two large tour groups showed up. Huge in that they totalled 20 people, which is several more than had been at the entire lodge on previous nights of our stay. One group arrived after dark, and it was clear to me that most of the people were tired, dazed & confused. They'd come that day all the way from Cusco, a very long journey that had been capped by the four-hour trip upriver.

Most of the tour group members went on a night excursion, looking for caimans, but a few were rightfully too tired to join in. One women who stayed at the lodge had a terrible accident when she opened a strange door in the dining room and stepped outside - onto NOTHING. My first day at the lodge, I had opened the door to see if there were steps down to the group and was suprised to see NOTHING -- a screen door that just opened 8 feet or so above the ground. Because it was so dark -- and because the decks were only dimly lit by kerosene -- this woman saw no reason not to just walk out the door. And she dropped straight to the ground.

Fortunately, her injuries were minor, but she was very upset. I gave her a Xanax and some items from my first aid kit. The lodge staff did not seem particularly ready to deal with the situation. I had to tell them to give her some ice. Her husband, though, was going around popping photos, as if he was collecting evidence for a lawsuit. He asked me if I'd actually seen her fall, and I said it was only out of the corner of my eye. Then I told him, I don't think you'll get very far with a complaint. He wisely responded, "I suppose you're right."

Kate and I have talked about this situation a few times, mainly its cultural aspects. The lodge staff seemed to think the woman was foolish to walk somewhere without looking first where she was going. There is *some* logic to that, but given the fact that it was so dark that you couldn't necessarily see the decks at night, it's not so strange that she would *assume* something would be there. Further, screen doors usually lead to *something,* and form the American perspective -- and the Spanish and Irish and German and god-only-knows-who-else was there perspective - it's quite dangerous to have a door that opens easily and leads to nothing but thin air.

Anyway, that incident aside, the lodge was a pleasing experience. It made the jungle -- with its bugs and heat and humidity and porcupine trees and anacondas and tarantulas -- as easy to bear as possible while not separating ourselves from the natural experience too much.

Saturday, when it came time to leave, though, there wasn't a boat available to haul all eight of us back to the mouth of the Yanuyacu. The staff must have perceived some urgency in our group to leave. Perhaps the Spaniards had an afternoon flight leaving Iquitos. So they set about returning us as best they could manage. To wit, they took their two largest dugouts and hooked them together in that same tow-rope situation from the day we broke down on the Amazon and proceeded to take us down river on the slow boats to China. If it was bad enough for our 15 HP motor to haul the dugout the day were were adrift, hauling the same number of people PLUS all our luggage was something of a farce.

Maria, the Peace Corps worker, was beside herself in outrage, just disgusted by the situation and blaming the tour groups for taking our boat. Fifteen minutes into what would've been at least two hours, Cleever came up river with a boat full of tour group people. You could tell Maria wanted to hijack it somehow. The boat drivers gestured at each other a little, but we continued down river another 15 minutes or so. Then, I looked back up river, and there was Cleever speeding downriver with the empty boat made of metal (unlike the leaky dugouts we were in). He looked like a scene from Hawaii 5-0 or Miami Vice, maybe.

He pulled alongside and there, in the middle of the river, we moved from the topsy-turvy dugouts into the larger boat -- luggage and all. Very amusing, I thought. Just go with the flow around here. Where the Yanuyacu flows into the Amazon, another boat was waiting, and we again had to make a transfer of all persons and luggage in the middle of the river. The woman traveling with the Peace Corps girl told Kate she was amazed at how calmly Kate and I accepted the situation. I guess we've just learned to recognize situations that are out of our control and to just make the best of it.

Alas, as evidenced by today's events, sometimes things that are firmly within your control go in directions you don't want, and you must still try to make the best of it.

This morning at breakfast, one of the hotel staff asked us what we planned to do today. We said we were going to visit Pilpintuwasi Butterfly Farm outside of town. Nice place, he said.

He suggested we use a mototaxi driver friend of his as a guide to get there and to visit to tribal villages along the way. His friend, named Ricardo, was very sweet. Even though we weren't interested in going to the tribal villages, we decided: Oh, why the hell not?

For future reference, I have an answer to that question. It's short: Stick with your gut.

We took Ricardo's mototaxi down to Nanay boat launch, where he arranged for a boat to take us to all three of these sites, ending with Pilpintuawasi.

The first stop was at the Bora village, where Ricardo sounded some drums half way up past the shore. When we arrived, the chief greeted us in traditional dress and ushered us into a large building with a thached roof -- the tribal community center, I guess.

The chief seemed a little drunk, as has been the case with many other river tribal people we've met so far, but he launched into a lecture in Spanish and in Bora language about piercing the ears, nose and lips, something about the tribe's history, its fiestas, its dances in honor of turtles, monkeys and anacondas. Meanwhile, the women were coming into the hall and donning costumes and face paint quickly.

Soon, they started dancing and singing. The sound was nice, but the performance was lackluster -- very canned, and they seemed bored. Also, they put on this show only for me and Kate. At one point, they pulled Kate and me up to dance with them. I could barely -- OK, I *couldn't* -- contain my laughter, especially after they put a headdress on Kate and I saw a woeful look on her face. Then, they put a headdress on me, too. The whole thing felt a bit humiliating somehow. We were both uncomfortable, but also laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.

After they were done dancing, the women swarmed us with their beaded trinkets -- bracelets, necklaces, a purse or two. The quality was alright, so I bought one bracelet and declined any further offerings. Kate doesn't handle such situations as easily as me, though, so even though she had no intention or desire to buy *any* bracelets, she walked away with FIVE at a cost of about 12 soles ($2). Then, we had to pay the chief 40 soles for the performance.

All the way back to the boat, Kate expressed her unhappiness with the situation -- just the most ticky-tacky, unenthusiastic, tired tourist performance ever.

Hard to believe our second stop could be worse, but we should've taken a clue from the fact that Ricardo called it the "Casa de Serpiente" -- and mentioned the presence of animals, mimmicking the slow movements of the sloth and telling us we could wear a big anaconda on our neck. We should've just motored on by, but again, it was one of those "why the hell not" things.

More on why the hell not.

If the Panama City zoo was depressing and sad, at least it had prepared us somehow for the Casa de Serpiente (y otras animales). In absolutely squalid conditions, an Amazonian version of a midway freak show was underway at the Casa de Serpiente.

Barely in the door, a man grabbed a sloth and thrust it into Kate's hands, with lots of gesturing and encouraging photography. Kate was a little freaked out to be holding the poor creature -- probably thinking for SURE that she was doomed to get leschmaniasis.

Then, the Amazonian carnies ushered us to the birds and with no permission on my part, except for the fact that I was standing still at the moment, they placed a large parrot on each of my arms and on my head. No haces caca, I told the bird while Kate took a photo. Then it was Kate's turn to have a large parrot stuck on *her* head.

Onward we went toward a cage -- casa de serpiente, itself. It contained several varieties of boa constrictors, a medium-sized anaconda and, in a murky rectangular trench dug in the ground, a large anaconda. The man actually invited us INTO the cage, and when we declined, he simply went in and pulled the large anaconda from the water and brought it out. He put it on the ground about 15 feet away from us and then gestured for us to come over. It was quite obvious that he wanted us to lug the mammoth snake onto our shoulders and be photographed with it. NO WAY!

Kate tried to make them happy by getting close to the snake and touching it. It didn't move, and she said to me, "It's OK; it's safe." So I went over to her and -- milagro! -- I actually managed to touch it. Just with my index finger and just a few feeble strokes, but I touched a snake nonetheless. I'm going to have to tell Clare about this -- her hypnosis worked pretty well, I guess. I still felt a little anxious, but I walked away from the snake saying, Red, red, red. And I was immediately fine.

It only lasted a brief time, though, because the next place the carnies took us was up the rickety stairs to what I thought was someone's house. Perhaps it was. We walked right through it into an even more rickety walkway elevated some 10 feet above the ground and presently found ourselves faced with a couple of enslaved monkeys chained by their necks to a railing. One was gesturing toward us sadly for food or something and kept trying to grab me with its tail. Th other just sat around pulling at the end of its chain. I felt disgusted looking at this and guilty for being a party to it. There was also a cage with monkeys in it -- a few diferrent kinds, but I wanted nothing to do with the situation and moved to leave. The guys seemed to be a little bothered that we didn't want to take photos. In retrospect, perhaps we should've taken photos to remind ourselves of how casually cruel people can be to animals when there's money involved.

Oh, I forgot. Between the casa de serpiente and the house was an old freezer in which was kept a small caiman. The man handed it to Kate, who ordered me to take her photo as quickly as possible, thinking it was going to bite her at any moment. There was also a small turtle in the freezer, which was handed to me for a photo. He was cute and colorful in the face, which he did not retract.

Oh, and that reminds me... there was along the way a "prehistoric" turtle hauled out of a mud bath and put on the group. It cannot retract its head -- it only moves it side to side. I think this is the only kind of turtle on the planet that does not retract. The thing looked dead when the guy put it on the ground, but after a minute, the guy prodded it, and the turtle's legs moved a tad.

Now back to the platfrom zoo from Something Wicked This Way Comes.... Beyond the monkeys was a cage with two pumas in it. The cage was no more than 6'x12' -- way too small for the pumas, who lay on the ground panting. I asked the man where they exercise, and he looked at me like I was silly. "They only need to eat and sleep," he replied.

Hideous.

Then, lastly, we saw a poor 5-month-old capybara hiding in the back of its cage. Docile and unmoving and very cute, it make me put a quicker step into my foot to leave.

We paid 40 soles (again) for the visit to this riverside attractionm, and I felt like we were paying to leave the place rather than to visit it.

Once back in the boat, I told Ricardo that I did not like the place because of the conditions in which especially the monkeys were kept. He apologized.

Fortunately, Pilpintuwasi Butterfly Farm is the antidote for the Casa de Serpiente. Its main feature is a butterfly farm in an enclosed 500 sq. meter tropical garden, but it is also a refuge for wild animals the owners have rescued from various fates. The manatee, for example, was destined to be someone's Easter dinner when the owner of Pilpintuwasi purchased it from a butcher in Iquitos. Several monkeys, including an endangered red-faced uacari -- red-haired, like an orangutang -- roam the grounds as they please. There is also an ant-eater, a jaguar (which someone had tried to make a pet but couldn't feed it), some land turtles and a tapir on the premises.

All were well cared for and had adequate space when they required enclosure, as the jaguar and tapir do. The monkeys were let to be wild, but they were very tame and came up to interact with humans and other animals. The red-faced uacari decided to groom my hair, which was quite a treat. Once she was finished, she lay down and expected me to groom her. I happily obliged. That and a baby howler monkey were the first monkeys I've ever touched. The were soft and sweet and cuddly, and I am really taken by their teeny tiny fingernails.

We saw lots of butterflies, of course, and were given a tour that included a visit to the laboratory in which the propagation of more butterflies is encouraged. They collect the seeds, nurture the catepillars and give homes to the chrysalis and then transfer the butterflies to the garden. The garden is full of plants the butterflies like to eat and lay eggs on. It is very beautiful -- a world apart from Casa de Serpiente.