Traveling up the Amazon River

January 30, 2012:  For the past 4 days I had my first trip of many more to come as I left Belem and headed up the Amazon River on a riverboat, taking myself and tons of tomatoes to my first stop, Santarem.  

I arrived over 5 hours early at the dock and I still somehow found myself next to where you don’t want to be…the bathrooms.  My mistake was that I hesitated for just a moment while there was confusion on where some people were setting up there hammock, squeezing me out.  It is numerically amazing on how many people they managed to fit in such a small area when we started and even more amazing on how many more hammocks they added after each stop to pick up cargo and more bodies.  It would have been nice for a little more room, but others had less than me so I shouldn’t complain about a set of questionably clean feet that were only 1 foot away from my face – I should be use to this by now you would think since my memorable bus trip to Jericoacoara.  As the days passed I mastered my ability to move like a monkey on all fours as I would go in between the hammocks to reach mine.

My goal on this boat trip was to think about important yet mind draining items and to study Spanish, preparing me for reentry into the Spanish speaking parts of South America.  But when traveling through what seemed to me, one greatest places in the world…I was overwhelmed with observing the way people live on Amazon River along with watching what was taking place to the right, left, above and below me, as we slowly moved upstream.

I didn’t see many animals besides 1 turtle, 2 parrots and what was inside my bag of animal crackers that I purchased before coming on the boat.  I didn’t expect much though so this was good.

One evening I was a bit startled when I heard kids screaming.  Our boat seemed to run into a wall of insects.  Beetles were falling from the sky as if they were being dropped like bombs landing on you and sticking like napalm…causing a panic amongst the children and those who suffer from beetle phobia.  The spiders that lived along the ceiling caught the mosquitoes and other smaller flying insects like commercial fisherman in there webbed nets filtering them from the wind, but the webs were not strong enough to handle the Beetle bombs

The days evaporated faster than anticipated.  Arriving at the dock in Santarem I was shocked.  The city seemed huge.  I am glad I didn’t look on Google Images at this destination, as I quickly left by taking a bus to the town named, Alter do Chao.

Oh noooooooo….it can’t be!

January 26, 2012:  When you rent a bike from the local bike shop you would think that it would be in excellent working condition.  That is a silly assumption I know…and yes, I was wrong.  The bike sounded as if someone was grinding a mouthful of pulled teeth into a microphone.  It was a horrid sound that kept me from standing up while peddling the bike as I explored Marajo Island.

During the ride there was a woman peddling her mom and even a little girl, whom I desired to pass though I was already struggling to keep up.  I blamed the bike at first but when I stopped putting the blame on other things and simply turned on the juice – I slowly and eventually crept passed her.  Looking back at them, I internally repeated a saying that I said when I was a child, “eat my dust!” as I laughing once again at my maturity.

I took the bike to a few beaches and I saw a huge group of some pink flamingo looking birds that were…scarlet ibises – oh noooooooo!  I can’t believe I just remembered its name.  It can’t be!  I am getting to know the names of the birds now – I just can’t become a birder – I can’t!  I am just too young.  Oh God, please - please - please let me not learn any more bird names!

I rode about 30km today in total - keeping it in kilometers since it is a bigger number than in miles.  Once back in the town of Soure, I decided to replenish my body with what this area is famous for, buffalo meat.  I can safely say that it doesn’t taste like chicken…it simply tasted like meat.  When I finished my meal, I could barely stand up on my legs of rubber. 

It was a nice day today…except now having to figure out how to clear my mind of bird names.

Calculating my options and the risks…

January 22, 2012:  “Readers have reported armed assaults on the night bus between Sao Luis and Belem, so consider flying as an alternative” my travel book states.  Doing some more research into it on the internet, I found blogs and travel site postings about the slew of armed robberies that take place on this road - one driver even claimed to be robbed 6 times.  It would be nice if you could rent a gun at the bus station when traveling through zones such as these.  Calculating my options including the risks and rewards of each…I took my chances last night and chose the night bus.

Between 1:00am to 4:00am in the darkness of the morning, where nothing man made existed except for the road we were on, I was awaken by the bus sharply swerving on and off the pavement.  Coming to an abrupt stop, I looked out the window but I was unable to see anything.  At first I thought that perhaps someone was lying in the road or we hit someone, but then it all “clicked” - we were being set up by bandits to get the bus to stop.  I am not sure how many brain cells where loosely floating around in the bus drivers head and why he ever stopped or ran outside the bus in an area that is so prone to armed assaults.

Happily, I can say that there was nobody with guns, machetes or spears that entered our bus - perhaps just a few mosquitoes.  Maybe I should stay off the movies for a while and limit my internet searches to strictly porn.  When we came rolling into Belem, unscathed, a smile cracked along my face as we passed the wooden huts along the road and crossed the small rivers that went under the highway…I made it to the Amazon, but even better…the Amazon River.

A gun is a gun…

January 21, 2012:  Walking back from the dock in San Luis after the 8 ½ hour trip visiting the old colonial town of Alcantra, I noticed some people peeping around the corner at something that was taking place a block away from my hotel.  It originally looked like there might have been a motorbike accident since a man with a helmet on was laying on the ground.  But it was strange since there was no motorbike around him to justify him wearing a helmet on such a hot day. 

I decided to get closer to see what was going on – thinking that someone might need some help.  This is when I saw the man wearing the helmet sit up with a gun waving in the air before whacking the man he was on top of with it.  He ended up being a police officer that enjoys running (no so smart) and fighting (very smart) with his helmet on. 

A gun is a gun no matter what size it is because you will have to see a doctor no matter how big or small the hole it makes.  But, I must say that the officer’s revolver was so small it was not even threatening – if anything it looked cute.  Is it possible for a handgun to be cute and not a Beretta?

1 second = 5 lives…I love seconds

January 20, 2012:  I have been traveling with a group of backpackers ranging from anywhere from 7 to 11 people the past 5 days – a rarity for me.  In some aspects it can really make travel a lot easier traveling in a flock of sheep, there is no need to think about anything if you don’t want to…you just follow the person in front of you. 

I really enjoyed my trip getting to Atins – a fishing village with a population of 250 people.  From the bus, to the 4x4 then transferring to a local fishing boat…it was all quite amazing.  We came here to visit Lencois Maranhenses National Park which contains about 500 square kilometers of rolling white dunes.  I cheated before coming here and did a search on Google Images of the park to help me decide if I should come here or just continue on to San Luis.  This defiantly ruined the anticipation but also creating a higher expectation, since it is not common for someone to post their worst photos of somewhere they go - unless they are legally blind, under the age of 6 or past the age of 80.  With this said, when visiting the national park, it looked nothing like the photos on the internet - sort of like certain individuals profile photos on facebook.    

Separating from the flock, I took the local 4x4 leaving at 4:00am.  By the time we left Athins, we had 10.8% of the population in the 4x4.  The vehicle was designed to fit perhaps 14 people comfortably…there was 28 people - that includes those on the roof and hood of the truck.  Fighting not just to stay on, but to take my whipping like a man as the branches would tear across the side of the truck down the narrow road when not in the open dunes.  To reduce the odds to not have any detours to the local medical facility, I placed my backpack with my computer and camera in front of me to protect my internal organs.    

When reaching the ferry, the 4x4 Toyota was like a real life Transformer, transforming from a truck into a submarine as it submerged itself in the water to make it to the ramp of the vessel.  I never knew a vehicle could go that deep in the water and continue to run - I wonder how deep I could get in my Volkswagen before needing an insurance claim. 

Once in the town of Barreirinhas I took a 3.5 hour ride in a collective taxi to San Luis – the reggae capital of Brazil.  During our ride the driver seemed to be catching brief moments of sleep.  I asked another passenger in the car who also spoke English, if they could speak to the driver to keep him awake.  Two seconds after saying that the driver leans over, grabbing his sunglasses and puts them on.  For someone who claims that he doesn’t understand English, I wondered the validity of his claim.

I don’t know if I will ever understand the need for someone to perform a pass on a blind curve.  My driver didn’t do it…it was someone else that was performing this feat of stupidity.  If it wasn’t for 1 extra second, we would have been in major accident.  Today 1 second = 5 lives.  I really like seconds - actually, today…I LOVE seconds.

There are boat capacities for reasons

January 17, 2012:  “When a boat can only fit a max of 6, why are we trying to fit 9?” I said to myself as we were piling in the bodies, about to set off into one of the small channels of the Delta outside Parnaiba.  Not knowing how unstable the boat was going to be prior to departing our main vessel, I had all 3 of my cameras with me and only one of them is waterproof.  

Our boat was so overcapacity, when anyone made a sudden or unexpected move, water would flood in from the sides.  Fortunately though, there was a man scooping water out the boat to help keep the water level in the inside from not getting as high as it was on the outside.  This really added to the excitement level on what could have been a peaceful float down the channel.  If I didn’t have so much photography equipment this would not have been a problem, but…I did.

It is all about the middle of Point A and Point B

January 16, 2012:  Sand is sand and if you don’t look left or right when at an ocean or large body of water in the evening.  You could be on the Jersey Shore and it would look the same as the Bali – garbage and all.  Perhaps I am just getting “beached out.”

The past few places I have been such as Jeriocoacoara and Parnaiba, the middle of point A and point B has been much more exciting than Point B.  If I was to take out all the beaten up buses, jeeps, buggies, vans, taxis, water taxis, long boats, canoes, ferries, fishing boats, ships, motorcycles, bicycles, walking, crawling and hitchhiking I did the past few years…I wouldn’t have much of a trip.
 

At times I don’t have any idea on what I am going to see at the destination, only choosing to go there because I hear or read how exciting of an adventure it is to get there.  This is what happened when I recently went to Jeriocoacoara.  Here I thought I was going somewhere far away from the ocean and after over a 20 hour trip needing to take 3 buses and a mammoth 4x4 truck, Jeriocoacoara ended up being a beach town.  Staying here for a few days, I enjoyed the mediocre sunsets, long walks along the beach and blah, blah blah – that sentence was about to resemble an internet dating site if I didn’t quickly kill it.

When leaving Jeriocoacoara for the town of Paraniba, my driver was reminded the importance of leaving at low tide and not high tide.  This is especially important when in this region because the cement roads are limited, so there is a lot of travel that you need to cross open dunes and capitalize on the sandy beaches when the tide is low.  Since we left at high tide, there were some points our driver had to time the waves, going as soon as the wave would temporarily pull back into the ocean.  It got so bad at one point, that I could sense that the driver wanted to turn back…but there was no option due to being no place to turn the truck around.  I really do enjoy trips like this…as long as it is not my vehicle.

Feet with no Borders

January 12, 2012:  After all the hours that I logged on various land shuttles that I have taken from one distant station to the other, my trip to Jerioacoara was by far the most unusual one.  At one point, I thought that I was being filmed by a Brazilian TV show, but with nobody approaching to tell me I was set up, I just figured that I was lucky to have front row entertainment.

Moments after taking my seat in the bus, I overheard the conductor having a “tough man talk” with the guy behind me, thinking that perhaps he was impaired due to something he consumed or mentally challenged.

Not even 20 minutes after departing the bus station, a foot came thru the space along the window next to my face and another foot plopped on me from above, as he chatted away on his phone.  From my gentle requests, shakes, squeezes and pushes to move his feet….nothing seemed to faze this man’s conversation on the phone - until I rotated his foot to the point it resembled the neck of an owl.

This was my first of many interactions with the man throughout the night - all dealing with his feet that seemed to have no borders.  At one point he became such a disturbance that the conductor eventually came up from the depths of the bus to the second floor to sit with him for a while before going back down to keep the driver awake.

When sleeping, I was abruptly awaken with the man now towering over me, possessed and speaking in tongues as he then tried to scale my chair coming over the top of me.  I was able to push him back into his chair as I could not stop think how unbelievable this was.  When he was done climbing my seat he obviously wasn’t done making this an unforgettable experience for me.  He now showed his great ability to pull off long draw out world record breaking farts laughing as a child after each and every wet one.  This had almost the entire bus laughing - encouraging the man in his 40’s to continue his childhood antics. 

Eventually the conductor said it was too much and came up to take the man down to the first floor of the bus to sit with him and the driver.  The harmless man looked so sad, as if he was being sent off to detention.  During this whole trip, I could not get the smile off my face on what was going on. What are the odds of me ever getting a more entertaining bus ride?

If I could just be a doctor, married to a golddigger…

January 11, 2012:  While studying Spanish on my Kindle (e-book reader), 3 boys approached me and wanted to see what it was.  I let them push some buttons and test the durability of the keys from the great force the put behind each push.  With over 5 hours till my next bus to Jericoacoara, I had an ample amount of time to try to teach them Spanish and a little bit of English while they helped me with my Portuguese.

We talked about cartoons such as Cars, superheroes and animals - things that a 4 year old and two 8 year olds would enjoy no matter what country you’re from.  One of the boys, who I was staring at earlier, was burnt so badly at some point in his life.  His mother kept a bandage on his nonfunctional hand while his face showed some scaring along with his leg that looked as if it was out of some Hollywood horror film.

If I could just be a doctor, married to a golddigger and able to create miracles, I would have loved to have given him the surgeries it would take to make his hand functional again and to minimize the residuals of a horrific burn.  Instead, I am just a mangy backpacker.  None of the jobs I have performed in my life has really helped anyone so I ask myself this…”what have I brought to this world?”  I guess this is what people think about when they approach 40 or on their death bed - I would like to think it is the first of the two.

The sounds and actions of a madman

January 9, 2012:  I am now in Pipa - amazing Pipa. I traveled to this town because I read that the dolphins swim near the coast here during low tide making it possible to swim with these grey wonders.  I was so excited when I arrived at my hostel last evening, knowing that today I was going to possibly swim with some wild dolphins.  At night, I even dreamt of not just touching a dolphin, but holding one in my arms like a baby, petting its belly as I stood in the water - what a dream that was.

After a 15 minute walk along the beach, I turned the corner after a rocky cliff to the area that they are commonly seen and I saw…nothing.  I was ready to spend as many days it was necessary to swim with the dolphins.  Seeing a fin rise and fall I dropped my gear, as I ran into the cold water hoping that the dolphin was going to swim near me.  

The dolphins sometimes would catch a wave darting forward as it would attempt to catch a fish or just ride the tube to just show off a bit I suppose.  After missing every photo when the dolphin would raise its head, I eventually just put my camera away giving up on my futile attempts for a Kodak moment. 

Being so close to the dolphins was great but I wanted them closer to me.  I remembered when swimming with dolphins in New Zealand many years ago, the company I was with told us that dolphins are curious animals and if we made these funny noises in the water you might be able to draw their attention to you.  So there I was, making these noises in the water and splashing around as the other 16 people near me stood silent, looking in my direction and probably thinking I was a madman.

Where is there a good drug dealer when you need one?

January 2, 2011:  For the 3^rd time I tried to get anti-malarial medication for when I enter the malaria infested areas in the northern part of South America and again I failed.  The doctors here in Brazil informed me I don’t need anything until I contract the virus.  Then when I read the website for the CDC (Centers for Disease Control) they recommend that I take an anti-malarial medication.  Different countries…different solutions.

It is obvious now that I am not going to get these pills through the proper channels.  Testing a few pharmacists here to see if they can be swayed on giving me just a week’s worth of pills without a prescription, it too didn’t work.

Where is there a good drug dealer when you need one? 

2012 New Year’s Resolution

January 1, 2012:  On New Year’s Eve while walking down the main street in the Barra district of Salvador, we were drawn to the magnetic pull of the large speakers and stage that some must-be-famous musician stood creating an unbelievable amount of noise pollution.  Every second that passed, the streets would become more and more congested, until the point it became impossible to go anywhere without great difficulty.  Standing there with all of the other sardines, we patiently waiting for midnight as the last minutes of the old year ticked away. 

As midnight struck, the music stopped and the controlled explosions shot up into the night.  It started slow…really slow, as if kids were shooting off some store bought fireworks from a nearby Indian Reservation in their backyard.  Once it did pick up, it eventually peaked and oddly got smaller and smaller, fizzling out with no well defined grand finale.  It was if someone was confused on what cords to pull at what times pulling the grand finale well before its time. 

Once the last series of fireworks went off, the music started back up making me feel as if we were now obligated to stay longer just because we made this big effort getting here.  The older I get the more and more I see pleasure in watching the walking corpse Dick Clark pull off another production at Time Square via the television.  

Cecile took a flight back home this morning not many hours into the New Year.  I tried to send her home with as much as I could so that my dream of having a light backpack would become a reality, but when the time came to get rid of my stuff…I could only part with a few items - not at all as much as I originally planned.

After this visit, I thought that perhaps my New Year’s resolution should be to learn how to forecast my future destinations better so that I can get more visitors.  So far I have my Mom and possibly my Dad lined up…anyone else?