After leaving Lago Agrio, we rode in another bus for 3 hours until we reached the end of the road, where was a small house. We ate lunch while the Italians in our group were filming and photographing the children who lived there as if they were animals in a zoo. The amount of equipment they had with them was astounding, and one lady filmed the whole trip from start to finish. I think she was so busy filming that she forgot to actually see our surroundings. Then we continued in a long canoe-like boat for another 2 and a half hours. As you can see from the photo, it was a very wet ride.
Finally, we arrived at the lodge. While built in the local rustic style, it had hammocks, individual rooms, comfy mattresses, hot water for tea and hot chocolate... we weren't exactly roughing it. The weather was perfectly pleasant and there weren't many mosquitos on the river or in the lodge, only during the jungle walks. All the discomforts that the word "jungle" brings to mind simply didn't exist.
The first night, we went on a night walk to see the insects. There were grasshoppers, walking sticks, katydids, and all manner of very impressive and large bugs. Of course, each new discovery was heralded by the probing faces of the Italians' cameras and the continuous flashing as they snapped picture after picture. It was quite a comical sight, the paparazzi jostling for position to photograph a tiny insect.
Over the trip we saw macaws, toucans, dolphins, and five different types of monkeys! The one in the picture, Liana, used to be a pet but was rescued by the organization and now lives in the reserve. Monkeys are still hunted by the local people, both to eat and to be sold as pets.
Liana, eating her third banana and not slowing down
While the days were filled with sightseeing and swimming in the river (a bit nerve-wracking for the men because of the dreaded penis fish that will swim up the urethra), it was the nights that were really enchanting. After dinner, we would play cards with the guides, exchange dirty vocabulary, and throw back a beer or two. Our guide, Jacob (ha-KOHB) gave me a henna tattoo of an iguana on my arm. One night, there was a concert, with the guides playing traditional music on an old, warped guitar with a water jug for a drum. Another night, someone bought a bottle of rum and we all sat around in the candlelight, joking and drinking. One by one people drifted off to their cabins, but I stayed up with Jacob and another guide until late, discussing Ecuadorian politics and jungle life while sipping punta, the jungle hooch made from sugar cane.
Every night, lying in bed or in the hammock, I would listen to the jungle concert and stare up at the stars. Out here, there was no rush. One could simply enjoy the sounds of the night insects, breathe deeply, and feel the stresses of life slipping away.
Our jungle family
The sun was hot and high in the sky when we set out for the last time in the boat. The giant trees along the banks and the birds dipping around the branches seemed even more beautiful now that we were leaving. Further up the river, trucks and barges and oil refineries began to appear, and the magic was over. It was time to return.
