The next morning, on finding out that the shower was still cold, I washed over the sink before going down to breakfast with Gabrielle. The breakfast, which was included in the price of the hostel, was quite good considering. There were plenty of people already up and about, since a lot of people were leaving early for tours around Cusco. We got talking to an American traveller, who must have been in his sixties and had come to Peru alone for the Amazonian boat race in Iquitos. He’d travelled all over the world and had some amazing stories to tell.
After saying goodbye to Gabrielle, I got the hostel to call me a taxi (which, this time, cost only S/.8 and was with a very friendly man named Edgar) and got to the airport in plenty of time. I was already sitting waiting at the gate when I discovered that my flight was delayed by over an hour and a half. With nothing to do but sit and wait, and hope that the flight was only delayed and not cancelled, I tried to relax enough to settle down and read my Peruvian guide book. I’d been lucky enough to get hold of a second-hand Lonely Planet guide book on Peru by exchanging my German novel, which had cost me around two euros and which I’d finished, at the hostel book exchange.
It wasn’t long before I started getting restless and, hearing some people in the seat behind me talking in English about Puerto Maldonado, turned round to chat to them. By a strange coincidence, they were also from Quebec (meaning that, after never having met anyone from there, I had now met three in the space of three days). They were a middle-aged couple and had just completed the Inca Trail, similar to what I’m doing on Friday. At first I thought it was the exact same one, but felt too awkward to correct them when they started giving me advice for what to do on the ten-hour treks. There was no chance of me walking for ten hours; my Inca Trail was the cheat’s version with rafting and zip wires, and a lot less walking. They’d done the very serious four-day hike and it sounded like they’d barely survived to tell the tale.
We eventually boarded the plane at around 12.30. It turned out it had been coming from Lima and had had to turn around due to a technical fault (not a surprise really, judging by how insecure I’d felt on the last Star Peru flight). The plane that was arriving now was a replacement service.
The flight, which lasted only forty-five minutes, felt like no time at all. Travelling for such a short amount of time and emerging into a completely different climate was surreal; as I stepped off the plane, I was hit by a wall of heat. After retrieving my holdall, I quickly changed into more weather-appropriate clothing before going in search of EcoAmazonia tours. This was the part I had been most worried about, but I spotted the company placard with my name on it straight away.
When I introduced myself to the rep, he seemed a bit confused and thought I was a rep myself, from Loki tours, who I’d booked with. I took this as quite a compliment on my Spanish-speaking abilities. Anyway, once we’d cleared up the fact that I wasn’t actually here to assess him, we got chatting and I found out a bit more about the plan. Soon the rest of the group appeared - two Dutch couples in their fifties, who spoke near-perfect English.
We were driven in the EcoAmazonia minibus (which, incidentally, had been painted with the logo and obligatory jungle animals, but had no glass in the windows) to the port of Puerto Maldonado, where a long, wooden motorboat was waiting to take us along the Madre de Dios river to our accommodation. Also waiting for us was a local guide, who was introduced to us as David, a name which seemed suspiciously easy for tourists to pronounce. I later found out that he was only twenty three, which seems really young to be doing a job like this. Anyway, our luggage was taken onto the boat and we followed, and were given a life jacket each. Unfortunately, they were all huge on me, so David thought it would be very funny to give me a kids’ one. It was actually a pretty good fit, so I ended up keeping it.
David came across as a friendly guy straight away - unfortunately, friendly soon turned into flirty. As soon as he’d ascertained that I spoke Spanish, he had eyes for no one else and started trying to convince me to run away to the jungle with him. I also made the mistake of showing my amazement when he told me his native tongue was Quechua (since his father is from Arequipa), at which he began to tell me things like “You’re beautiful” in the language.
We pulled up on the bank below EcoAmazonia Lodge around an hour and a half later. As our luggage was carried up for us, we made our way up the steps onto the wooden platform leading to the main reception. I noticed the mosquitos immediately and wasted no time in slapping on layers of repellent to avoid a repeat of the bites I’d got at Lunahuana. From the reception, we were told to make our way straight to the dining room, where our lunch was about to be served.
Lunch comprised three courses typical of the Amazonian region - ceviche, followed by juane (rice, steamed vegetables, olives and egg - and chicken for the meat eaters, all served in a bijao leaf), and watermelon for dessert. It was a huge meal, but just what we needed. It seemed the Dutch people were to be my tour group for the next few days; it was a little awkward being a young English girl tagged on the end of a group of middle-aged Dutch people, but they were really lovely and made an effort to speak English and involve me in the conversation.
After lunch, we quickly checked into our bungalows before our first jungle tour. The bungalows were all named after Amazonian animals, so mine was called Choro, a species of monkey. The grounds had been designed beautifully, with under a hundred lodges interspersed between rich gardens with flowering plants and trees, connected together by a stone path. The rooms were as nice as you could expect in the middle of the Amazon: made entirely of wood, each with an en suite, one dim ceiling light and a ceiling fan. I had a room of four all to myself but was a little worried to discover they had made up the bed nearest to the door - the one with the most chance of eight-legged invasions. I’d already warned the staff about my extreme and irrational arachnophobia. Not only this, but I didn’t have a torch, and electricity at the Lodge only worked between 6pm and 10pm, which was going to be a challenge.
After someone had helped me drop my bags in my room, I jumped in the shower (which was cold, although this was quite refreshing, as I was already wringing with sweat). When I stepped back out the shower, I didn’t know whether I hadn’t dried myself properly or I’d just got completely bathed in sweat again. Either way, I had no choice but to cover myself up with my makeshift jungle outfit, which consisted of, I kid you not, black Pineapple joggers and a pink pyjama top.
Then it was time to join my new Dutch friends, whose names were Christina, Bernd, Olga and Franz, to go on a short boat ride to the river island opposite, Monkey Island. David was our guide, and considering his dreamy personality and soft, slightly vacant-sounding voice, he knew an incredible amount about the area. As suggested by the name, the island is inhabited mainly by four different species of monkey. As we walked deeper into the jungle, David took every opportunity to explain the plants, trees and animals we came across. Amongst other things, we saw some beautiful and enormous butterflies, as well as some gigantic trees with wide buttress roots, which towered into the sky. We also learnt some of the trees’ properties, for example one tree with medicinal sap. Apparently, local families drink the polluted river water and don’t get any diseases because they drink a mixture made from this sap three times a day.
As well as chatting to me and ignoring the poor Dutch people again, David thought it would be very amusing to try out some tinta de la selva (jungle paint) on me - a fruit with a strong orange colour which tribal families use as a natural face paint. Little did I know that he was painting me as a clown - probably not my best look, I admit.
I knew we were getting closer to the main monkey habitat when we began to see some hiding in the trees. When we reached a clearing, David cut up some banana he’d been carrying with him and spread it out along an elevated wooden plank supported on two logs. Within minutes, three different varieties of monkey were climbing down from all the surrounding trees and greedily taking their share of the fruit. They were almost tame and came unbelievably close; I could hardly believe my eyes.
We stayed watching the monkeys until every last piece of banana had been eaten, when we began our short walk back to the river to catch our boat ride back to the lodge. Then, we had a bit of free time to freshen up before meeting in the dining room for another three-course meal. Before that I managed to make some more jungle friends - with the barman and, helpfully, a guy who was willing to lend me a torch to defend myself from those evil eight-legged critters. I went to bed tired but content.
No comments:
Post a Comment