Sunday, August 12, 2007
Yesterday morning at 5:05 am I arrived in Lima and proceeded through customs without a hitch. I spent several hours walking around each café and restaurant in the airport until I found a good cup of coffee. Peru is not known for a good cup of coffee. I called my friend Segundo, an Evangelical minister in Lima, and he came to the airport to visit for about an hour or so. We ate lunch together – roasted pork sandwiches with orange juice.
After he left, I decided to go ahead and get through security for my third and final flight so that I could continue my quest for caffeine. It was 12 noon and my flight was not leaving for Iquitos until 3:20 pm. After sampling my fourth cup of coffee and finally deciding it was pointless to continue, I visited an information kiosk near my gate to collect some information about various other regions in Peru. I made the acquaintance of one Maria De Los Angeles who spoke in broken English and demanded that I stand at her kiosk for the duration of my wait so that she could practice her English. Having nothing better to do, I acquiesced. She held me captive until my group number was called and I had to eventually cut her off in mid-sentence so that I would make my flight.
My flight to Iquitos was one of the most turbulent flights out of the hundred or so I have been on to date. I wasn’t scared but was more nervous thinking about whether or not it was going to get worse. Every moment was a painful contemplation of the next sudden drop or keel. Upon stepping out of the plane I was shocked by the coolness of the tropical air. It was around 80 degrees and breezy and I felt relieved knowing that there was only a couple of hours between me and a bed. The overnight flight from Miami was not the window of opportunity for sleep I was hoping for. The plane was dark and quiet except for the low consistent hum of the jet engines and the non-stop, drunken banter of three Brazilian men located right next to me. I found no rest on that leg of the trip.
After collecting my baggage I stepped out of the terminal and into the open area of the curb that was between the walls of the hanger and the mob of people waiting to meet their friends and family. From the crowd I heard my name being shouted…. “Miguel, Miguel, Miguel!”…. In the way of eager faces I found Carlos’ as he motioned to meet me by the exit area of the group. His family was there as well and we piled into a waiting cab and were off. As before the bustling streets of Iquitos were reverberating with “moto taxis” as our driver muscled his way through the crowded streets. We arrived at “La Casona”, a hostel near the banks of the Amazon where I was instructed to inspect my room to be sure it was adequate. It was a simple room with a small desk, a single bed, TV, bathroom and a fan. It was good enough, I was tired. Having now been here for 24 hours, I quite like the simple, cozy nature of the place. There is something satisfying about sleeping in a hidden away room in a tropical place with no air conditioning. It reminds me of something familiar… Perhaps my childhood.
This morning I awoke at 7:45 and ventured out onto the streets. Not realizing until later that it was Sunday, I wondered why there were so many people out on the streets, yet no stores were open for business. I walked up to the square and sat on a park bench and watched as the Peruvian military ceremoniously raised the flag over the square. (Plaza de Armas) I found a small café that was open and ordered what ended up being (officially) the worst cup of coffee ever made by a human being. I had my pan and left the coffee and headed back down the street to my hotel where Carlos was to meet me at 9 am.
Today was a whirlwind. We took a cab (w/ 3 other people) to Nauta, another smaller and cleaner city just like Iquitos. We drove along the only paved highway in this part of the country that connects two cities for an hour and a half. We passed homesteaders and small rundown hotels and half built buildings that were once someone’s dream of building a resort. It was unique…. a one lane highway cut out of and through the Amazon rain forest for 100 km. (50 mi)
After sharing a coke and reviewing the map of the area we hired a speed boat to take us up the Ucayali river whose confluence with the Itaya forms the second to last major union of two rivers before it is simply called the Amazon. We pulled into a small village about 35 minutes up the river called Puerto Miguel and Carlos explained its strategic placement in the area, which was that by portaging at Puerto Miguel over land for only about 300 yards and getting into another boat, one could effectively shave three hours off a trip up the Yarapa river, if entering from Nauta. Driving to Nauta in an hour or so is equal to about four hours on the river heading north.
It was then back to the boat and down the river to where the Peruvian government had set up a ten story look out tower near the bank so that tourists could see the place where the Itaya and Ucayali join. I can’t say it was all that great of a vantage point considering its height. Upon our return to Nauta we boarded our new taxi and headed back down the highway to Iquitos. When we arrived we went to a restaurant called “Los Zoritos” (Little Foxes). We ate dinner and talked about our plans for tomorrow. I will meet Carlos in front of the hotel at 8 am and after purchasing supplies and provisions, we’ll head north by speed boat on the Amazon, Ucayali to the Yanayacu river, which means “black water” in Quechua, and to the Ayacucho where we’ll be for three days. I’m off to bed.