Iquitos

Feb. 27, 2006- Edge of Civilization
(Photos:Floating house,
Eric,
The Aquamarina)

I adore the REI sunscreen shirt that Wendy got for me. It has zipper pockets all over and is lightweight. Air vents allow the shirt and my body to breathe while I look ever so stylish.

As I’m writing to you I’m at a desk in our “stateroom” watching the rainforest slide by as we wend our way along the Amazon. It’s surreal. We arrived at Iquitos at 6:55AM. A mist was rising from the jungle as we skirted thatched rooftops of shacks. We landed next to plane hulks rotting near to the tarmac like decaying husks. I expected Bogey and Bacall to walk out of the terminal at any moment. It wasn’t Africa but it had that wild primitive aura. The whole area smelled loamy green until we hit the petrol fumes.

We went directly to the VIP lounge. They use VIP loosely here. There were nibbles and beverages and a décor out of a 1950’s rec room. Where are gay decorators when they’re needed? The chairs were white molded plastic with orange fabric pillows. Need I tell you about the paneling?

We refreshed and got onto yet another bus for our city tour. Iquitos has 500,000 souls and a low crime rate. Where could a criminal run? The place is only accessible by air and boat. It has three borders: Ecuador, Columbia, and Brazil. The main industries are growing hearts of palm, tourism, lumber, and petroleum. Malaria has almost been eradicated but what new cases there are can be treated with new drugs. The fact that they have 30% childhood mortality is because the outlying areas don’t have anti-venom and snakebite deaths are common. We are 350 feet above sea level in a lowland rain forest that has high jungle and flat forest area. Scientists agree that it was all once under the ocean. There are an average 250 days of rain a year. Nine-months after the rainy season the birthrate goes up. Seventy per cent of the area is water.

Our guide, Eric warned us before we stopped at the Indian market not to buy anything made from endangered species. I don’t think anyone in this group would but it would be confiscated by customs anyway. Wouldn’t you know it; we had just left perfectly acceptable facilities (which I used) but another woman, Nina, and I had emergency calls in the midst of this conglomeration of mud and garbage. Eric, doubting I would use it, led me to the “public” toilet. He doesn’t know with whom he is dealing. The only reason I didn’t use it was because it needed to be flushed by pouring water into the bowl and the bucket was empty. We got upgraded to the office bathroom. We followed him over trashy ditches, wet sand, and around barbed wire threatening to nip us. The bathrooms were very clean but somehow I got the toilet without the seat. Nina fared better.

Carnivale is celebrated here by decorating the very top of a tall palm tree whose branches have been removed. Gifts are hung up high and people dance around the base. Someone with an ax chops until they are able to pull the tree down. Then everyone scrambles for presents. While that’s going on bystanders toss water and urine on the merrymakers. Except for the urine part, it’s a combination Xmas tree and Maypole.

The town center reflects the rubber boom days. Even Eiffel of tower fame built a metal building among the Portuguese tile facades. Lest you think the town is lovely, let me correct you. It’s dirty, dusty, and congested with tuk-tuks spewing exhaust. The thirteen-block long shopping strip was particularly crowded with people who needed to renew their Ids so they could vote in the upcoming mandatory elections. Some people who don’t need ID renewals make extra money by selling their place in line. Mud-dappled children in threadbare clothes weave between the legs of marks in hopes of a quick sale. One of our group, Nick, keeps telling them to go see John, another of our group, and that he’s looking for what they have. This has become quite a game for us all.

Our major find of the day was when Barbara and Jack told us that they buy meds when they’re overseas. We only brought enough Cipro for one of us (I don’t know why) and since we both have tummy “issues” we bought enough for a full course of treatment for $1.00.

Cruise Line It’s Not

Our bus delivered us literally over a bridge, down a ramp, and to the door of our boat. The Aquamarina is a 31- year old ferry that was refurbished ten-years ago. Time, humidity, and dry rot have taken its toll. It’s an aged African Queen with outside walkways and rooms opening onto the river. The main deck is sheltered from the sun under a canopy while the rear deck is exposed. Molded plastic lounges, chairs and tables round out the furnishings. There are hints of glory days in the carved woodworking on doors and parquet floors, but it’s a lady in need of a major face-lift, some dermabrasion, and a bit of botox. It’s clean in the way something old is clean.

We’re on the first deck and the door of our room is a foot and a half from the water. Our room had a problem and there was no spare cabin so Eric and the engineer went to work. There’s a hole in our floor to access plumbing, and fumes were entering our room. Even though we didn’t smell them once we were inside for a while, it was nothing I wanted to sleep with. A wood cover had been placed over the hole. It sticks up from the floor ½ inch and I know we’ll both trip over it. The engineer sealed it with silicon caulking and it may do the trick. At least we might not get high on those fumes. We will become great friends of the engineer. After dinner the bathroom light burned out. We told Edgar who called the engineer. We also had a lighting issue. They tried four fluorescent bulbs and all blew. They told us they’d return in the morning to try again but David pointed out that it was pitch black in the bathroom. They stayed until they figured out it was the ballast.

It took me a while to settle into my new environment and its quirks. Behind the door in the bathroom hung two ratty but (I’m sure) clean terry robes. I had David remove them and hide them. There’s a desk with a lockable drawer where the computer will live during the cruise and of course there is air conditioning in the cabin as well as in the communal dining room. We have hot water in the shower only and must activate it before the hot water flows. We’re thrilled with the number of outlets and lights that seem to be well placed. We’re permitted to flush toilet paper, which is an unexpected luxury. But one item supplied to us doesn’t make me happy. There are leather gaiters to wear on night walks in the jungle in case of snakes. Since the water is so high now the trails are submerged and our walks may be limited. We’ll be doing lots of float-trips down tributaries. Our “valet, ” Edgar, straightens up our room three times a day and daily laundry service is free. Our captain seemed reluctant when he addressed us through a translator. He’s from Iquitos and is a true Mark Twain of the Amazon. The piece de resistance is the picture window that we can look out as we sit in bed.

Hitting the Water

After lunch we took a skiff to tour a floating village of 5,000 before the boat left the dock. The houses are tethered to the land but actually float to accommodate the ebb and flow of the river and the seasonal changes of water level. During rainy season the deepest part of the Amazon can be 200 feet. During the dry season it can fall by 45 feet. The residents of the shantytown take advantage of the natural phenomenon and plant crops in the fertile river soil. Most inhabitants are from remote villages and come to the city to seek employment. It reminded us of Thailand. People in the deplorable shacks used the filthy river water for everything. They claim that the sewage settles into the silt and its effects are somewhat mitigated. I’m not going to find out. We saw one woman fetching river water right next to the outhouse that dumped directly into the river. Some stilt houses have jury-rigged electricity and fire is always a threat. It’s among the worst squalor we’ve seen. A central loudspeaker system plays music incessantly and is the source of news and announcements. It’s common to hear that one person would like to meet another person at a certain time and place. Prostitution is a problem. The women ply their trade in dugouts while a man paddles them through the fetid canals looking for “johns.” They must really have a good sense of balance. AIDS is an issue with 2,000 reported cases. Medication is available.

Being south of the equator the river flows south to north. We floated south (upstream) past banana plantations. Pineapple and tapioca are other large crops here. Villages we saw had electricity, schools, floating gas stations, and floating groceries. Most of the trip will be in the five million acre Pacaya-Samiria Natural Reserve. As for fauna sightings we saw hawks, iguanas, and a sloth. Not too impressive, but the sunset was. As we returned to the mother ship the setting sun illuminated it to a burnished gold. The two dragonheads on our prow seemed more welcoming than threatening as we paced ourselves to match speeds and docked.

I asked our guide Eric to tell us the story of his journey. He was born in the jungle to a thirteen-year old mother. She was the third wife of his father. When Eric was a few months old she left for Iquitos where she was able to find employment writing official documents for the city because of her beautiful handwriting. When Eric was ten-years old she sent for him. He had gone to elementary school, which was usually provided by missionaries, but she wanted to give him more opportunity. He completed high school, five years of college, and two years post-graduate studies to become a licensed naturalist. His half brothers and sisters are still in the jungle plying trades.

On Board the Aquamarina

Pre-dinner entertainment on our boat was the Mute Band. It wasn’t so mute. Comprised of the crew, it was a lively, raucous, and festive prelude to an evening of good company. It gave me a chance to learn more about one of the men in our group. He has a partial finger on his right hand. He was always a pacifist and during the Viet-Nam War he sought out jobs that would give him a deferment. When the jobs ran out and his lottery number came up he asked the Quakers for help becoming a conscientious objector. When that failed he took a drastic measure. He cut his finger off at the first knuckle with a table saw. I told him how Jewish parents in Russia bound their sons’ fingers until they atrophied since conscription there was a life sentence.

A decent dinner of recycled food reminded Judi and me of our days at Newcomb College of Tulane University. What we didn’t eat for dinner appeared at lunch. It was the opposite here. What was left from lunch was reborn at dinner. The spinach became a delicious potato and spinach kugel, the chicken was chicken salad, and the fish was stir-fried. Our boat doesn’t sail at night. There’s too much debris in the river due to severe erosion. Whole trees have floated by. We literally tie up to a tree and become one with the jungle. We can touch the cattails along the shore and smell the richness of the earth.

Tomorrow we start at a decent hour. Breakfast is at 7:30AM. We’re going piranha fishing. They recommended we wear closed toe shoes. There’s been a lot of joking about whether we should catch and release them.

Toby