June 10
Yesterday afternoon was
even more exciting than the morning. And I realized that the morning was pretty
mind blowing when it dawned on me that my lengthy description had failed to
mention one thing that would be the highlight of most days. As Mike and I were
headed to the regional government meetings we saw a commotion the opposite
lanes of the main road that comes from the airport. The traffic was backed up
by two guys in the middle of the road, on unicycles. But not just any
unicycles; they were on those elevated unicycles, about eight feet above the
potholed street. They were pedaling back in forth in short strokes, basically
staying in one spot. And here is the kicker, they were juggling machetes. They
had about eight in the air at any given time, flying between them and over
their heads. Funny that I forgot to mention that...
In the afternoon I took
a refreshing dip in the hotel pool and then headed to the market with Mike and
Jake. The place was a massive swirl of vendors that takes up several
blocks. The most common stands featured meat and fish, cut and butchered before
our eyes, fruit, and herbal remedies. Everyone tried to sell us performance
enhancing tonics and hallucenogenic drugs. The place was also filled with
massive vultures that perched on the rooftops and wandered underfoot, picking
up the butcher and fish scraps. They had absolutely no fear of the throngs of
people around, and one practically landed on my shoulder at one point.
There were also rows of
women rolling cigarettes from massive mounds of freshly chopped tobacco,
sealing the papers with a gum made of yuca and grapefruit. We also saw caiman
claws, python heads, anaconda skins, and the pelts of otters, jagaurundi, and a
jaguar.
Just down the river bank
is a massive shanty town called Belen. It was the edge of Belen that I had seen
on my morning run, but we now sought out a guide to take us into the heart of
the impoverished village. We asked a few vendors to suggest a guide and
suddenly a little fellow appeared and cheerfully announced: I am George, which
I initially took as I am yours. This guy had a haircut from an Ah Ha video and
a letter of recommendation from the manager of the Ahwahnee Lodge in Yosemite.
He insisted on speaking English and was filled with so much energy that we
could not resist settling on him as our guide. At that time some young guy
approached Jake with an offer to get high on pot or the local hallucenogen.
Somehow he ended up tagging along on the tour.
About a third of the
way down the ancient, eroded steps to the river we crossed the high water
mark of the recent flood. Beneath us the damage inflicted was immediately
apparent. The slapdash corridors between the ramshackle houses were filled with
muddy ridges of detritus: shoes, trash, furniture, bottles, human waste,
everything that had washed up and settled onto this muddy flood plain turned
city.
Everytime someone
greeted George, he proudly announced that everyone in Belen knew him. He took
us deeper and deeper down the gentle slope towards the water. With each step
the piles of muck got higher and the smell got more strangling. Finally the
makeshift road turned into a canal, and we were limited to a narrow sidewalk
along the houses. We were greeted by cheerful old men drinking rum straight
from their basement stills. At the point the houses were on stilts, but even
the upper levels had been flooded. At the point where even the sidewalk reached
the water there were several long handmade boats. George loaded us into one
narrow and rocky boat and off we went through the fetid water. The canal
through the village opened into the river. On what appeared to be the opposite
bank were many more shanties. As we approached we saw that this was simply the
floating extension of Belen.
George pointed out the
highlights of the floating village, including schools and churches. We passed
people bathing and washing clothes and dishes in the filthy water. George
reached down, cupped his hand, and demonstrated that the residents drank this
water. Of course, he told us how sick we would be if we did the same, but he
had spent his life in Belen and his body was prepared for the barrage of
microbes and pollutants.
Eventually he took us to
his house. The raft of tree trunks that defined his domain measured perhaps
five by eight meters. A roof covered the whole raft, but only a small portion
had walls made of boards and blankets. In this area, perhaps the size of a
king-sized bed, George lived with his wife and four children. He also a dog and
four cats who wandered around the raft. His neighbors had a healthy flock of
chickens.
Georges kids were
adorable, charming, and happy. The most striking thing about Belen is how
cheerful and friendly the kids are. They have everything they need, that any of
us need. Being greeted by so many of them changed my mindset entirely. I had
entered Belen pitying their squalor but came up pitying the rest of us who
think that we need so much more than a roof, food, water, and supportive
companions.
After the boatman, who
was Georges neighbor, took us back to the shore, George guided us back up to
the market. We paid him 10 Soles each, the equivalent of four dollars. In the
evening, Mike met with the Maijuna regarding travel arrangements, supplies, and
the Congresso. So Jake and I walked to local market and got some beer to drink
poolside. We watched the bats and lizards flit about and talked about travel,
music, and other shared interests. When Mike finally wrapped up, we went to one
of the few fine restaurants in Iquitos. A motokar (which I learned was the name
of the three-wheeled cycle taxis) took us to a well built porch over some
stairs down to the river. Here we boarded a boat that seemed like the QEII
compared to our afternoon craft. The boat took us maybe a kilometer
out into the river to a floating restaurant. The two story structure
was made of beautifully polished wood and featured an enticiing freshwater
pool, lit blue in the dark night. Soft ambient music completed the scene.
The food was spectacular, as was the view of the city, yet the total bill for
beer, appetizers and entrees was under 200 Soles, or around 80 dollars. It was
such a stark contrast to the afternoon poverty and a surreal way to end a long
and adventurous day.
Copyright 2012 Tom Carter
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