Manaus
After a gruelling 27 hours of travelling and 4 airports, I arrived in Manaus. A 20minute boat ride and one brief dolphin sighting later, and we arrived at the Eco lodge, where we were greeted with welcome drinks and shown to our room. After some lunch and a shower, I headed out to start my first tour of the trip – to see a local Amazonian tribe.
The tour began with a 45-minute ride down the Rio Negro on a two-storey boat. The scenery was stunning. It’s hard to express the scale of the river, especially when you consider that it is just a small tributary of the Amazon itself. Where exactly the river ends and the land begins is difficult to tell, as the trees at the edge are partly submerged. On past a strange contrast of ram-shackle huts and expensive condos, we finally arrived at a small patch of shore slopping steeply up into what appeared to be dense forest. A few meters through the trees though, and I found myself standing in a large wooden hut, with a dried-grass roof. Inside were a small tribe of authentic Amazonian people. Dressed in grass skirts, with red face paint forming dots and lines across their faces, they proceeded to demonstrate a series of traditional dances with traditional musical instruments. For the final dance a few of the men in our tour were selected, adorned with elaborate headgear made from grass and feathers, and asked to join in. To my dismay, although not total shock, not long into the dance, the tribes men came over to select some women to join in as well, and before I knew what was happening, I was being dragged to centre stage to join in with the dance, which seemed to consist of a mixture of a conga line and the hokey-kokey. If you had told me this morning if I would have been getting up and dancing a traditional tribal dance, I would have thought you were crazy.
After a short break on-land, I returned to the boats for an evening of alligator spotting. In a small, green, roofed canoe, holding about 10 people, we set out into the darkness with nothing but a torch, in the hope of catching a caiman. After about 20 minutes, the guide apparently saw the glint of alligator eyes, and disappeared off into the jungle with the torch for several minutes, before returning, swearing but triumphant, with a small caiman. It was about a foot long, and apparently quite vicious. Photos were taken, and I plucked up the courage to stroke it and eventually hold it. Although its back was very sharp and scaly, its underside was quite smooth and soft. Despite our efforts, we didn’t find any more alligators, but I returned to the lodge feeling satisfied that I had, for the first, and probably last time ever, held a caiman.
The next day we set out in the boat towards the Amazon river, and the point where the clear, dark Rio Negro meets its silty waters. The ride took about 3 hours, and took us past Manaus, the bizarre city set in the heart of the jungle. It is quite a strange site to see skyscrapers jutting out above the dense forest. Finally we reached the ‘meeting of the waters’ a dramatic 30km where the Rio Negro and the Amazon meet, but do not mix. The two rivers take so long to mix fully because they are so different; the Rio Negro is considerably more acidic than the Amazon, at about 4.5pH. It is also slower moving, denser and cooler. So for a short stretch of water, the two run side by side, with the clear, dark waters of the Negro contrasted by the pale, sandy waters of the Amazon.
Here’s a few statistics about the two rivers: at its widest, the Rio Negro is about 9km wide and ranges from 10 – 25m deep. The Amazon reaches 30km wide at its largest point, and up to 50m deep. From its meeting point with the Rio Negro, to the border with Peru, the Amazon supports 8000,000 people, who make a living in part, from the 2,000 species of fish that live there.
We then continued on to a visit a few of the local communities whose homes are on the edge of the mighty Amazon. First, we visited a village of about 200 people, where we were shown rubber trees, and the traditional method for making rubber. We then moved on to another community where we had lunch.
After lunch, just as we were leaving the village to return to the boat, a girl appeared as if from nowhere, carrying a baby sloth. I was speechless. The little creature clung to her with its three-clawed paws, and looked out as us, totally calm and relaxed. The pair posed for photos for a while, and then we were given the opportunity to hold it ourselves. Holding the sloth was fantastic. At no point did it show any signs of distress, despite being passed from person to person for at least 10 minutes. Although it looks course, the sloths fur is actually quite soft, and it seemed as though it quite enjoyed being stroked. I was informed by the guide, that the sloth sleeps for about 80% of its life. Ah, what a lovely, peaceful existence it must have. And, apparently, all sloths are as tame as the one I held – apparently fear is too much effort for a sloth.
On we went, this time in a speedboat, first to sea one of the many floating villages that can be found on the Amazon. Since the water level fluctuates so much throughout the year, a floating house is an excellent way to avoid flooding. We continued on down the small tributaries of the Amazon, to visit a small lake, just inland from the river, where giant Lillie pads and alligators lived. Finally, before beginning the journey back to the lodge, we were greeted by a canoe containing a small girl, a teenage boy, a talking parrot and a baby anaconda. Nobody, including myself, had the nerve to hold the anaconda, although I did stroke it.
Just as we were about to reach the lodge, the heavens opened, and a torrential downpour began which has only just begun to subside now, several hours later. This evening has been characterised by a typical tropical storm. Thunder, heavy rain, and several power-cuts, during which the entire lodge is plunged into total darkness, and I find myself desperately fumbling in the dark for a candle and matches.
My last full day in the Amazon began with a 2.5-hour nature hike through the jungle surrounding the lodge, with our guide, Urey. The walk mainly consisted of him pointing out the variety of interesting trees, plants and fruits which can be found in the jungle, and explaining their medicinal function. One particular vine, apparently can be used to treat insomnia, and prevent diabetes. I would maintain, however, that steering clear of too many sugary foods is likely to prove far more effective. But what do I know?
About halfway through the walk, we stopped and Urey asked us to gather round. From his large bum-bag, he produced a number of plastic tubs and bottles, containing strange concoctions which can do anything from get you drunk, to cure a head-ache, to prevent aging. We tried a number of these. Just before we returned to the lodge, Urey took the opportunity to demonstrate the bow and arrow he had been carrying with him the whole time. Made of wood and string, the bow stood about 5ft tall, and he was able to accurately shoot a couple of feet.
The afternoon’s activity was one that I had been particularly looking forward to – a visit to the Monkey Jungle – a place where monkeys are rejuvinated to full health and released back into the wild. Those monkeys that have been released are still fed, about 20% of their diet, at two daily feedings, which visitors are invited to watch. One monkey, carrying a baby of just 7 months old on her back, came over and sat on the wooden fence separating us from the feeding area, and we had the opportunity to take photos with her, and stroke her. Her fur was a greyish colour, and very soft.
We spent the rest of the afternoon on an almost entirely fruitless piranha fishing trip. One of our group did manage to catch a small piranha, about 3 inches long, but the rest of us were not so lucky. I learned that, as I have always suspected, I have no patience for fishing.
After the fishing trip, I had a few hours to kill before dinner, so I decided to take my book and head down to try and see the sunset. Within the grounds of the lodge is a smallish hut with some hammocks, and hanging benches in, which looks out over the river. I decided this would be an ideal spot to wait for the sunset. So I sat and read, and got bitten by insects as the sun went down. It wasn’t so much a sunset, though, as just a getting darker, which was quite disappointing. As twilight was fading into complete darkness, one of the lodge staff suddenly appeared, walking down from the restaurant, carrying a broom with a large, red parrot sat on one end. She came into the hut where I was sitting, and, speaking firmly in Portuguese to the Parrot, encouraged it onto the ropes supporting the swinging bench next to me. I was quite excited, and immediately grabbed my camera, and approached the parrot for a photo. The lady, still apparently shoeing the parrot in Portuguese, left and I took a few pictures. The parrot looked at me for a few moments, and then carefully climbed down the rope, using its beak to support it, and made its way down onto the floor. I was only a meter or so away at this point, and still trying to get a good photo. As soon as it reached the ground, it charged at me and pecked me in the leg. Apparently this was one parrot that didn’t like to have its photo taken.
Salvador
Since this year I am away for my birthday, I wanted to try and get away from work for a few days to celebrate. Because of the way my work has turned out, it happened that it was better logistically to go a little early, however, so I headed to Salvador 8 days before my birthday, to spend a long weekend in the famous capital of Bahia. A had a great hostel in the center of the historic Cidade Alta recommended by a friend, and on Thursday morning (a day earlier than planned because my host in Campo Formoso came down with flu) I packed my bags and took the 7 hour bus ride across Bahia
Arriving around 8pm, I got a taxi from the bus station, checked in and quickly headed down to the hostel bar for a Caipirinha. That cocktail turned into a second and I got chatting to the irish bar tender who offered to take me out to another bar and show me around a little after his shift. He and his completely crazy Brazilian friend were a lot of fun so I agreed and at about 11pm we headed out to an African bar down the street which had live music. The music was vibrant and interesting and we had a lot of fun dancing and drinking a few beers. I finally made it back to my room at 4am and tried to get some sleep for the following day.
I managed to drag myself down to breakfast at 9.50am the following morning (breakfast served 8am – 10am) and rather annoyed the lady serving the food who had already packed everything way. But she managed to get me a bread roll and some cheese and I gulped down a few glasses of water in an attempt to feel a little more human again. Having partly recovered from my hangover, I forced myself to head out into the town and explore a little. Salvadors upper city (Cidade Alta) is a UNESCO world heritage site and its thin, cobble stone streets are lined with, slightly decrepid, but truly beautiful old portuguese colonial buildings. There are also an astonishing array of old, elaborately decorated churches in the city (one around almost every corner) so I spent the day wandering the streets, admiring the architecture and investigating some of these. That evening turned into another lengthy drinking session in the hotel bar – unfortunately for me the Capirinhas were delicious and relatively cheap, and I found it difficult to resist. I met some other English people on a gap year trip around South America and hung out and drank together for the rest of the evening. Feeling slightly more disciplined, I managed to get to sleep by 1am that night.
On my second full day in Salvador, I wanted a beach day. I had heard that the beach closest to the city was not so nice, and usually painfully busy, so I decided to take a bus to a beach a little down the coast called Itapua. It was only about 50 minutes on the bus, and when I arrived it was definitely worth it. A long white-sand beach with palm trees dotted along it and rocks jutting out of the ocean creating wonderful rockpools at low tide – it was beautiful. On top of this, my concerns about the weather (the forecast had been for rain showers all day in Salvador) were quickly dispelled, it was gloriously sunny almost all day, and the sun only dipped behind a few light clouds once or twice.
That night turned into another lengthy drinking session, first at the hostel bar with the English friends I had made, and then moving on to another bar up the street with two Swedish guys, and American and a Canadian girl. We returned to the hostel at about 2am, to find that the bar was still open and in full party mode, so we stayed for another couple of drinks before I finally turned in at about 4am. Needless to say, I slept through breakfast the following morning. By about midday I felt capable of dragging myself out of bed, and went up the street to a small cafe with my new found English friends were we got a burger and the boys attempted to watch the football (but failed). We decided to try and make something of the day, and since I had been planing to head over to an island in the bay, we decided to go ahead and try this, despite the relative late departure.
By 2pm we had made it down to the ferry port and got tickets for the 50 minute boat ride across the bay. The water was extremely rough, however, and it was rather unnerving as the boat tilted dramatically from side to side with each wave. We made it to shore unharmed, if a little shaken, though. Once on Itaparica island, we found out that the nearest beach, supposedly very beautiful, was 15km away, and we would need to take a taxi there. We negotiated a reasonable price with a taxi driver there, and despite my concerns about the fact that there were 5 of us and only 4 spare seats in the car, he bundled us in. Just to top it off, the middle-man who had sold us the taxi ride proceeded to jump into the boot, occasionally opening the door to shout directions at the driver, who at this point was driving, in true Brazilian style, ridiculously fast down the dirt roads and overtaking cars and motorbikes on blind corners at every available opportunity. The 10 minute ride was terrifying, and I spent most of the time wondering how I had managed to get myself into this situation, and whether I was going to survive to see the beach at all. Remarkably, we made it there completely unharmed, and the taxi driver arranged with me a time for them to take us back again.
As we strolled out onto the soft, white sand of the beach, Ponto de Araea, I felt like the traumatic journey might almost have been worth it. It was totally idyllic here – an almost completely deserted, white sandy beach, dotted with palm trees, and a view of an even more beautiful looking island across the water. We had almost a full hour here, relaxing in the sun, before we had to head back to catch the last ferry across to Salvador. Thankfully, the taxi ride back was a little less hairy, if only because the driver was somewhat more cautious and drove at what most English people would consider a sensible speed. The boat ride back was also a little calmer, and finally we were back in Salvador, safe and sound.
It was Sunday night, and most of the bars closed early, so we had a couple of beers at the hostel, and I managed to actually get an early night. There was one, almost incident, while we were looking for an open bar, in which some, seriously dodgy looking, locals began to approach us, and I got the distinct feeling they were trying to separate me from the group. However, we stuck together and, probably realising we were on to them, they backed off.
My final day in Salvador was supposed to be the best – I had planned to head a couple of hours up the coast to Praia de Forte, where, alongside beautiful beaches, is a sea turtle sanctuary. However, the day started off badly, when just after breakfast it began to absolutely poor with rain. Since it was my last day, I decided to try and go anyway, since the weather forecast seemed more favourable out of Salvador anyway. The rain seemed to be easing of a little, so I gathered my things and headed out. Only a few minutes after I left the rain became heavier again though, and within minutes I was completely drenched. Determined not to give up, I continued to battle my way up the hill, over cobblestone streets in flip flops, through the rain. It was awful, and by the time I reached the lift down to the lower city, I was miserable and completely soaked. After a quick cigarette I felt a little better, took the lift down to where the bus stop was. The rain finally stopped, and I began to try and find the bus I needed. Both my guide book and the hostel staff had said there were, fairly regular buses from here to the beach. But the bus stop consisted of several shelters in a row with an almost constant stream of buses coming through, with no intelligible system which determined which buses stopped where. After over an hour of waiting, with no sign of the correct bus, I gave up. I just wasn’t meant to go there today. Instead I spent the afternoon wandering the streets of the historic upper city, taking in the architecture, and doing a little gift shopping.
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