We stayed a week and then said goodbye to the other guests - mostly artisans and street performers taking advantage of the only affordable housing in the otherwise touristic neighborhood. After having been together almost 24/7 for ten months straight, my relationship with Arturo was beginning to have a lot more downs than ups. We decided it was best for the both of us if we took a break from each other, so he stayed behind in Lima and I got on a bus with Paloma headed toward the jungle. Almost my entire time traveling in Latin America I had had at least one male by my side and thus, apart from the random cat calls, had never dealt with too many problems that solo women often deal with. It was immediately apparent, however, that the two of us traveling alone would be a different dynamic entirely.
When we left Lima we took a cab directly to the bus station (earlier in the week we had already encountered problems in that neighborhood and learned it was best not to walk). The bus station, which only has bus services from Lima to cities in the Amazon, was full of photos with jungle scenes and brightly colored wildlife that had us practically drooling over our much anticipated destination. Another nightmare bus ride that went through the night took us over mountain ranges and hours and hours of extremely potholed dirt roads. In the middle of the night we were awakened by a burly gun-toting local who boarded the bus to demand his pay. Pay for what? Well, for keeping the road safe for us to pass of course. This self-proclaimed gaurdian of deep jungle roads was given exactly what he asked for.
We arrived in the port town of Pucallpa in the early morning hours and the streets were all hustle and bustle as the locals tried to get things done before the dead heat of the day settled in. We found a hotel, showered, and went in search of a boat to take us deeper into the Amazon. After eating a small lunch we walked to the docks. Crossing to get to the boats it took less than a minute before we were surrounded by at least 30 men, on the pretense of selling us tickets, trying to touch us, rob us, kiss us - they started to fight amongst themselves and Paloma and I had to fight our way out of the crowd. (This was my first and only experience with a right hook to the jaw... however, beyond being a bit surprised, I don't think I made much of an impact.) We ran, both of us crying, down the street until we felt a safe distance from the crowd. Shaken up, we went to the small restaurant where we had eaten lunch to ask for help. The only route to buy our tickets was through the crowd of drunken, bored men. Two men at the eatery refused to accompany us, giving the excuse that it was too dangerous even for them. We walked down the street to the police station and explained our situation, but the officers on duty refused as well saying that that area of town is out of their jurisdiction. Finally, at the tourist office, the woman at the front desk enlisted two of her brothers and the five of us went to find a boat. We spoke with the captain of a brand new boat that would be leaving that same evening for it's first run from Pucallpa to Iquitos - a five day ride down the river. The kind woman from the tourist office got us a good deal for a cabin on the boat and we decided to take it. We hurried back to our already rented hotel room and were able to get half of our money back. We also went to the nearest hospital and got our free vaccinations for yellow fever. After buying a few provisions for the trip a moto taxi took us to the boat. Scheduled to leave at 5 pm, the boat left the dock at 2am.
The boat had three levels. The bottom was full of cargo that would be dropped off and replaced at tiny villages along the way. The second and third floors had a kitchen and about twelve passenger cabins. Our tiny cabin with a small twin bed, a couple of shelves and a bathroom was clean and comfortable. In fact, since it was a new boat, everything was very clean. The captain took extra special care of us since we had come with the head of the tourist office; he wanted us to give her a good review of his boat. The rest of the passengers on the boat lined up hammocks or made beds on the floor. The roof of the boat had the steering wheel and a couple of cabins where the staff slept. We hung our hammocks and worked on jewelry or read our books. We were quickly befriended by Joran, an eight year old with the biggest, most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. He was born and raised in the jungle and was full of stories about hunting tigers and monkeys with his father, and he made sure we knew all the legends of deep jungle ghosts and demons. On the second day we also made friends with John; a nice, overly prepared, and a little bit eccentric guy from the US. He was the only other foreigner on the boat. The four of us spent the five day boat ride through the Amazon telling stories, playing cards, or just sitting quietly on the roof watching a world virtually untouched by humans pass us by. At night, the full moon, bright over the wide lazy river, kept us mesmerized for hours at a time.
The days passed too quickly and we arrived in Iquitos with mixed feelings... wanting to continue on the magical journey down the river and excitement for what we would find in this jungle city. We fought our way through the crowd at the port, said tearful goodbyes to our dear friend Joran and his family, and found a mototaxi. In a few minutes of speaking with the driver I found out that he is Mormon and trusting him more for this reason, asked him to take us to an inexpensive and safe place to stay. He took us to the home of a very nice woman who rents out three of her rooms to make a little extra money. The price was decent and the location good, the rooms were clean and we had use of the kitchen as well. Paloma and I showered, left our things and went to explore.
