We took our leave of our generous host Juan Carlos and headed to the airport for our flight to Puerto Maldonado, and our jungle trek. The airport security was unexpectedly harsh. Before we could even check in our baggage a guy searched through everything in Paul’s big backpack. Then, when we were going through security a particularly unpleasant woman took everything out of my bag (I felt so violated!), removed a ball of string (which she refused to give back), and acted like I’d committed a particularly nasty and obvious crime. (Incidentally, balls of string are useful for things like tying falling apart baggage together, and hanging washing off. Today my wet clothes are making bedspreads damp instead.) To add insult to injury (or, as it happened, injury to insult), on the plane the cabin crew decided to take my fiddle away from me to put in a special cupboard, then dropped it when they gave it back to me. Gah!
When we arrived at our destination we were hit by an immense cloud of heat and humidity. I’ve never experienced humidity like it, except in Gracemount sauna and there you’re allowed to sit still and wear just a swimming costume. It was like being squashed by a duvet. The air was rusty with dust, and later, even though the sky was covered with cloud, the sun and moon (not at the same time, of course) shone through red. The tour company picked us up and conveyed us to their office, then along a long dusty red road (under re-construction from rainier times) to meet the boat which would take us to the jungle lodge. Puerto Maldonado was also made of motorbikes, and I felt sorry for their helmetless passengers as they caught our bus’s dust cloud as we rumbled past. Our party was made up of Paul and myself (clearly), 4 Spaniards from the Canary Islands (don’t talk to them about British tourists...), although one was really from Cusco, and 6 Americans from North Carolina.
The river was wide and muddy, just like in the documentaries, and there were giant capybaras (glorified guinea-pigs, although they looked like mini hippos) on the banks. They gave us some yummy rice steamed in a banana leaf to eat on the boat. I do enjoy Peruvian food! Then we travelled down the river for 2 hours, me so excited to finally be in Amazonia – ever since the y3 Amazon class project I’ve always wanted to go there. Ok, so the river we were on was the Tambopata, not the Amazon, but it was still rainforest. Eventually we reached the lodge – it all felt very tropical. Fruit trees everywhere, log cabins, colourful flowers, and yellow-tailed birds with made the weirdest call. Something like a gurgling plop sound. Or something churned out by a computer when you get an email or something.
When it got dark we went on a night hike through the forest, seeing mostly very big spiders, tiny lizards, and grass-hoppers. But also fireflies which I’ve never seen before. They danced and flickered in quite a magical way. Very prettily. Dinner, then to sleep in what felt like some kind of princess bed, surrounded by mosquito net, the smell of fermenting starfruit, and listening to the stereotypical jungle noises from outside. We were getting up at 4am the next day (oh, how we’re pros at that now) to watch some macaws lick a wall. Early night.
A long boat ride the next morning took us to a little shore where we could watch a big clay cliff with hundreds of birds attached, licking it. Apparently the fruit in the dry season carries toxins which they can’t digest, so licking the clay early in the morning means they can eat fruit for the rest of the day safely. It’s also a good meeting place to find a mate. Like going to the pub. Most of the birds there were little green macaws and parakeets, but there were also huge multicoloured macaws which were amazing to see (with borrowed binoculars – from our viewpoint they were just brightly coloured spots). Sometimes a hawk would scare them, and all the birds would swarm up en masse. Sometimes there were toucans. Really interesting sight, and exciting to see such exotic birds in their natural habitat.
Before lunch we had a trip to a waterfall pool where a weird looking bird got very involved with Paul’s feet, and our poor American friends were traumatised by the disturbingly squelchy mud underfoot. Then after lunch we had a walk through the jungle. I’ve never sweated so much in my life, in fact I had to embrace it. Surprisingly I wasn’t as bothered by the heat and the bugs as I’d expected to be. In fact, I would welcome a much more hardcore Amazon experience like a volunteering project for a month or so. Not sure Paul feels the same way...
Some in the group were disappointed that we didn’t see more creatures (although we heard some wild pigs making very interesting noises), but I was just happy to be among the trees and the smell. Pine forests have a distinctive smell; it didn’t occur to me that rainforests would too. I’m beginning to sound like such a tree-hugger! Before dinner we played hunt-the-caiman in the river boat. It involved shining a light in their eyes, and not surprisingly whenever we came near they slid below the surface with cries of ‘run away!’ We got to see the tops of a few heads, though. They’re like very small alligators. I think the guide had planned to wrestle one for us so we could see the whole beast.
I think the tour was worth it, despite being so short (oh yes, and despite lack of showers). It’s given us a taste of what the jungle’s like, and prepared us for the idea of possibly returning. It wasn’t really what I expected (to quote something from the wall of a launderette, ‘travellers see what they see; tourists see what they came to see’), but then it wasn’t going to be like a David Attenborough documentary anyway! The jungle seems like an age away now. We made it back to Cusco and wasted away a day waiting for our bus at 8.30 (yeah right! Try 10!) to take us to Puno. We met this English guy at the bus station who had been travelling for 2 years and had run out of money a year ago. He had taught himself to make jewellery to supplement his travelling, and was also busking with fiddle and drum (if only we’d hung around to have some tunes, could have been fun). His latest instrument was a didgeridoo he’d made from some weird bit of tree (carrying it all looked like a challenge). He’d started his journey by catching a boat from England to Spain, and continuing by boat to the Caribbean. I envy his progress in some ways (ok, lots of ways), but it’s a very different lifestyle! He was about to see if he could break into the rainforest national park without going through the formalities of guides or entrance fees. Good luck to him. We met another guy who was trying to do the same at Machu Picchu, and we haven’t heard from him since.
Also in the bus station was a very shady couple stuffing puppies into a small zip-up bag. The poor little things struggled and struggled, until the woman finally let them poke their heads out of a tiny gap, one on top of the other. Then the man swept them up, shoved a coat over the bag, and they hurried off. They couldn’t have looked more suspicious if they’d tried. The bus station was packed full of oddities, in fact. Including a golden shrine to Mary or some such saint. There are Catholic shrines everywhere. Roadsides, markets, etc.
We arrived at Puno bus station at 4am (what a familiar time) and shivered there until 7.30. Not nice, although there was a pretty spectacular sunrise over Lake Titicaca. Then we got the next bus to Copacabana (which the beach in Rio is named after), Bolivia – the first spontaneous act of our trip (as suggested by Melinda from the Inca Trail). It was very exciting, although daunting as we had no accommodation sorted, or had any idea of what the place we were going to was like. We found a hostel fairly quickly, and it seemed ok for a mere £3 each per night (oh yes, Bolivia is cheap!). We also found out fairly quickly that if we took a shower, we would simultaneously be frozen and electrocuted. Not sure it’s worth bringing it up with the owners though as there’s no English to be had, and there’s a limit to my miming and Spanish guess-work.
Outside came the sound of brass band and drums. There was some kind of children’s parade going on. Big tubas (and probably other instruments) wandered down the street, as kids of all ages dressed as witches, aliens, blackened faces etc – scarily, basically – ran in circles round the band, chanting. Then they stopped outside the police station for some chaos and running and chanting what sounded like playground rhymes, before moving on. The parade was still going on this evening when we went back to the hostel. I felt a desperate need to do some kind of ethnological fieldwork, but sadly still have no idea what was going on. It reminded me of the description of Swedish Easter Witches – mostly because of the Hallowe’en-esque costumes at an odd time of year. If anyone finds out more about this before we do, please let me know! (Incidentally time of writing was 21st Sept, September Equinox - don't know if that has anything to do with it or if it's just coincidence.)
Went and had fish and chips Bolivian style for lunch (trucha - the main specialty here). It consisted of fried trout with lime and chilli and things, with rice and chips. Yum. We ate at a row of beach huts away from the tourist cafes (it seemed to be where all the local police were eating), and have spent the rest of the time hanging around and working out what we’re doing tomorrow. Oh, and mourning Paul’s iPod. Yes, he has lost the use of another very important thing to him. I sense a curse...
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