Passagem no Amazônia

A boat, a barge, the amazon. A hammok, or hedge, multiplied by the hundreds. People are stacked, like cards. Squished, like sardines in a can. Are you jealous yet? It's amazing. I never thought in my life that I would float up the largest river in the world.

It is so vast. River ocean the color of tea. Floating near the banks, passing jungle. Not only, passing people. Children in boats begging centavos from tourists. Small children paddling, alone on the huge body of water. Just their skinny body and a hand hewen wooden canoe. We pass houses, shacks, platforms on the banks of the rio amazônias. Who lives here? Is their street aqua? Do they like it? What is their occupation or do they have one?

There is a cirus on the barge. Literally and in jest. People from all walks of life. Young wealthy tourists, hippies getting their bread by selling bracelets, earrings, necklaces. Brazilians, young and old. Babies, teenagers, famalies, grandmas. Colorful hammoks, hanging, swaying, swinging; propelled by the weight of human bodies. Free spirits, juggling on the deck, tossing balls and bowling pins, performing slight of hand for the enjoyment of others.

It rains. Everyday, not all day. There is sun as well, peeking out. Illuminating the white clouds, the verdant green plateu. Changing rapidly and staying the same, this time on the boat.

We stop, we streach, we explore. Santarém and Alter do Chão. City buses on rutted, rainy dirt roads leads to a gem. A village in the amazon, on the river, white sand beaches. We celebrate! freedom from boat captivity, for the newly found calm of this friendly village and the 201st birthday of Alter do Chão! Cake! So much cake. Cake lovingly made by groups of people who care for their ciudade. Then all cakes, seems like 100s in total, are paraded through the town like roman gods acompanied by music made of horns and drums. Cake eaten from the palm of the hand. Then watching a clown perform, out of the goodness of his heart, for children in the praça. Juggling, magic, imitations, laughing.

A short boat ride leads us to an island, where in the 'dry' season white sands connect to Alter do Chão. A skinny, ribbed dog come chasing after. Tail waving in the air, a flag of happiness; yips of joy sound and the boatman jokes this is our 'guia florestal'. No joke. A companion to the top of a peek, a furry, exploring, excited friend. A view that austounds rewards our hard work, rivers, rainforest, lagoons. A chat and next thing guia florestal is sleeping below a bench. A swim in the river, a beer on the beach.

Boating again, exploring a flooded jungle. We float pass the tops of towering palms; see geometrical reflections of leaves in the water. How strange to sit in the canopy of a forest. Up close to the greens, yellows and browns; smooth, glassy, and rough. How can you live with no air, tree? Where are your roots obtaining this life sustaining gas? Will you live to see the flood subside? to see the forest floor become capteted once more in green, then the litter of leaves?

An island in the rain. Where people live in a commune, where they share and you can come too if you want. Would you like to buy some of this jewlery I made? This is a feather, a bone, nut, tooth. A walk through the rainforest. Dense, dark, dripping; abundnce and life. A native guide climbing over, under and upon logs- us too. Navigating the small, barely visible path. We stare in awe at the strength and poetry of the vines; snaking, spiraling, surrounding. A bath in a secluded pool, the water is clear and not a murky tea color. We cleanse the busyness and buslte of Belém from our bodies. We wash under the roots of a fallen giant, who kindly left the hole to be flooded with clear, life giving water.

The rain continues falling. Shelter of a thached hut, a book on brids, on the amazon. I will always remember the sound of those mokeys howling. So loud. The rain, this is their song. Rawr, Hoot, exclaiming their power. Yet running at the approch of a threat. Is this like me? Wanting to be so big, exclaiming my independence, doing it because I can. Yet, mindful and sometimes fearful about where I am, who I am with, my safety.

This time on the Rio Amazônias has been dicotomous. This river, ocean, great body makes on feel so small. I am an isignificat speck in the history of this river. Yet, this grand, sprawling, unending waters will always be ingrained into my memory. I will remember the islands, the rain, tropical forests, children. But most significant in my mind will be the sheer magnitude of the river; who could think such a thing is possible?