The Mighty Amazon

Growing up in Peru I was so proud of the fact that I was living in a country that boasted the origins of the largest river in the world.

Because of the mighty Amazon tourists from all over the world traveled to Peru to get a small glimpse of this immense water flow and the large jungle that grew up on either side of its long banks. The jungle that contained lost cities made from gold. Cities that were covered in vegetation after many years of abandonment just waiting for some tourist or a skinny “gringo” like me to come upon it.

When I first found out that we were leaving Dallas to move back to Peru so that my father could help his ailing parents manage their cotton farm, I thought it to be so unfair. But… as my parents told me stories of their childhood and the amazing beauty of their countries of their youth, my mother’s was Ecuador; my father’s Peru, I started to get excited for the new adventures that lay ahead.

On a hot August day, we loaded the last suitcase onto the rooftop carrier of our Lincoln Continental, locked the doors of our North Dallas home and headed west. Yes! WEST!

As a compromise for our upcoming changes in our young lives my parents thought that they needed to take us to Disney Land before heading south…way south of the border.

My brother Walter was sent to a university in Perugia, Italy, that meant that Fernando was taking his place as the oldest sibling and because of his size and strength could pick any window in the back seat that he wanted. He decided that for the whole trip he was going to be on the left side behind the driver. Laurence, older and yes stronger then me pushed me from the remaining widow to the middle of the seat, yep, the one that was perched over the driveshaft that would give me an uncomfortable bench for the three months and nearly 4000 mile drive.

We drove through New Mexico, Arizona and Nevada and then into California where we saw the majestic sequoias at Redwood National Park only to be promised sights of trees not as large but so dense that you would not be able to see the sky in our voyage. We visited the Hearst Castle and were told that we would see true palaces, much larger and once a long time ago, more grandiose then this estate.

Driving down Lombard Street in San Francisco, my mother told us that this might be North America’s crookedest street, but we are about to venture down roads that are steeper and wilder once we cross over the border into Mexico.

In Disneyland we were in awe of the costumes that were on display during the parade. “That’s nothing!” boasted my father, “Wait until September 16^th when we are in Mexico City. As they celebrate their independence day you will see the most beautiful parade and costumes ever.”

Finally our last stop before leaving my country of birth: The San Diego Zoo.

Sure enough, lions and tiger, the majestic cats, snakes and amphibians, birds and bats, whatever animal we saw were just a sampling of the wildlife that we would see,

“Just you wait,” promised my mother. “Starting tomorrow when we leave this modern country we will embark on an adventure into the old world. We will see more wild animals than in this zoo. We will be so close to some that we will be able to touch them. We are going to be pioneers, traveling by car further south then any other family in history.”

Apparently my parents had consulted with the American Automobile Association and found that to their knowledge we would be the first family to travel by car from the US to Peru.

The first night in Mexico, just as my mother had promised, a bat came into the restaurant.

All of us tourists screamed as we slid off of our chairs to hide under the tables as our lives were about to end. We were going to all die from wounds inflicted by this huge bat. As my brothers and I peeked from under the tablecloth we noticed all of the nationals were grinning from ear to ear. With butterfly nets in hand the brave “machos’ chased down this vampire bat finally catching it to the applause of the restaurants patrons. As they walked towards the door to release it, or kill it, Laurence scampered from under the table towards the door that the waiter was heading to. He arrived just in time to see the waiter don a pair of gloves, reach into the net and place the dangerous animal that was smaller then a mouse in a box. After living and visiting third world countries where much of the earnings are based on tips, I now realize it was part of the “show”.

Onward we traveled heading deeper south and into territories traveled by very few foreigners. As my parents explained the remoteness of the sites we saw and the density of some of the rain forest we traveled through, we believed that we were pioneers. Vast jungles of the Yucatan peninsula in southern Mexico, Guatemala, Honduras and Nicaragua that opened up to large Mayan ruins. Pyramids, palatial structures, smaller dwellings and athletic fields demonstrated the grandeur eras of once powerful civilizations. In Costa Rica it was the rain forest and the amount of vegetation and wildlife that awed us making us question San Diego, what?

Finally we made it to Peru and saw some ruins as we traveled south through Trujillo, but nothing seemed as impressive as what we had seen in Central America. Lima was a large ugly unimpressive city.

This was not a city in the middle of a jungle. There were no large palaces, or temples for worshiping the sun, the moon or the sacred calendar. I wanted to be in the middle of the Inca ruins where I might dig for riches and fame.

Not to be, as we drove past downtown Lima, all we saw was a very crowded city with huge buses that belched out a continuous plume of black stinky smoke. There were no trees lining the roads, instead there were large buildings and residential properties that came out to the sidewalks.

As we neared San Isidro, the neighborhood where we were to spend the rest of our youth, we felt cheated. Laurence and I were wondering where we were going to dig, to explore. What rain forest were we going to wander through in search of wild animals and exotic plants? And where were the ancient palaces?

It was not until I started school that I became re-excited about my new country. It was during history and geography classes that ignited my passion and love for Peru again. It was through history classes that I learned about the Inca civilization and their wealth. I learned about the Spaniards greed and the boatloads of gold that were taken from the conquered Indians.

And I found out about Peru and its diverse geography. It turns out that Peru had three distinct regions. The coast that was mostly desert and considered one of the most arid lands in the world. The mountains, that runs the entire length of Peru, the Andes from where most of the waters that kept the coastal cities alive came from. The mountains that protected some of the largest Inca civilizations. And finally, the rainforest! Yes! The rainforest.

My parents did not lie. Even though the ruins were for the most part far from Lima and the jungle was on the other side of a mountain they could not have been that far from my neighborhood. Really! Did we not drive from Dallas to Lima? And I knew from my recent studies that Peru was smaller then Texas. How far could they be?

Laurence and I decided to ride our bikes one day in search of some ruins. Inca ruins filled with gold. Ruins never found by the greedy conquistadores.

Asking directions from one of our uncles we were told that in San Isidro, our neighborhood, we would find an Inca pyramid. Since we could not find shovels at our house we took some large silver serving spoons that we saw the butler bring to my grandmothers table when we ate at her house.

We did find the pyramid that our uncle told us about and went to the backside of the ruins, away from the passersby who might see where we were digging and come in after us to steal our goods.

We dug for hours, until the web between my thumb and forefinger blistered and then bled.

I called it quits. “I want to go home, my hand hurts and my knees are sore. I am thirsty. This pyramid is to big!”

Finally, Laurence called me a baby and said that I would never discover anything. Riding my bike back home was painful as every bone in my hand hurt so much I could hardly grab the bike’s handle bar.

I did give up hopes of ever being an archeologist. But, I still could be an explorer. All I needed was to find a way to the rainforest.

Laurence made it to the rainforest before I did and told me about the boa constrictors that he saw. The Arapaima fish that someone brought in from the Amazon River measuring 13 feet. And then the birds with all their colors flittering around. The sounds of the rainforest were all over, the colors vibrant and varied. The stories that he heard of piranhas attacking villagers and consuming cattle that strayed in to the river.

On rainy days he would walk deep into the jungle where the canopy was so thick that he could read his book without a drop smudging the pages. I envied him. He told me about the natives dressed in next to nothing who came into town with their blowguns to demonstrate their marksmanship to the amazement and amusement of the tourist. Laurence told me about one native who shot a passing hummingbird in mid flight and how the poisonous dart killed it before it hit the ground.

Recently I was at a party and was telling some guest about some of my recent journeys. I told about the rainforest that I visited in Zimbabwe and the beauty within its borders. I told them a story about a visit to Iquitos, the largest Peruvian city on the Amazon River.

While I was there I met up with a local who was about to push his wooden canoe into the river. He had some strings and hooks. I asked him in Spanish if I could come along. Grunts and gestures answered me back.

I took it that he did not speak Spanish. I gestured with my arms. I want to get in canoe with you. I want to go fishing. I gestured over and over again until he understood.

He motioned that I could come. He walked on first stepping on to the bow of the canoe and sat down before motioning me to come aboard. He then placed his paddle in the water as deep as he could and pushed backward. We were quickly caught in the rivers current and were gliding south. A few seconds later and after some powerful strokes from my new friend, we headed towards a sand bar in between the majestic waters.

Once there he took out his knife and cut a small fish to be used as bait. He was kind enough to bait my hook and show me how to slip the line into the water without tangling it into knots.

As we caught fish there was need for cutting more bait. The fish we caught were tossed onto the flooring of the canoe. After only an hour we had caught between fifteen and twenty fish and headed back.

It was sometime during the return to shore that I looked down and saw that my feet were submerged into a puddle of watered down blood. Grossed out, I stuck one foot over the side of the canoe and let it drag for just a few seconds allowing the moving water to clean my feet. We were nearing the shore, I began to maneuver my body so that my clean foot would not fall back in to the bloodied puddle and allow my other foot to skim the waters surface. That is when my little friend started to scream. I looked back at this small man who shouted some unknown words to me and gestured in panicky moves. About the same time I noticed that there was a knocking noise on the bottom of the canoe. One bump here, one there. And then… more and more. Within a short amount of time the bumping became constant almost like rain on a tin roof.

We were near the shore. I stuck my left foot out of the canoe and instantly felt a sharp pain. It felt like the time I was bitten by a dog. I pulled my foot in. There was a small silvery fish attached to my pinky toe. I shook my foot wildly trying to fling this monster back into the water. It held on. The water became shallow and full of movement as a mad school of fish followed us to shore.

My little friend did not slow down, hitting the shore at great speed. As soon as we beached, he flew over me as if he had sprouted wings. Somehow he landed in the middle of the canoe and with one more leap bounced off the vessel and onto shore leaving me sitting in the middle of the ship with a wild, hungry, large tooth, big mouthed creature chewing on my toe and ascending to my foot.

I thought that the captain was supposed to be the last one off of his ship. He was standing about ten feet from the shore still screaming and gesturing madly as a crowd of other natives joined him. They gathered to stare and scream unknown words at me. ME! Who was still sitting in a puddle of bloodied, stomped fish creating a larger pool of blood and therefore more frenzied churning water.

I looked from the gathering crowd to my disappearing foot. Finally I regained my composure… somewhat, I reached down to and grabbed the slimy, scaly and now bloody fish with my hand. I pulled. It slipped out of my grip. I pulled again and yanked as hard as I could feeling a terrible pain as my toe disappeared from my foot. I was about to throw the meat eater away when I saw the end of my toe sticking out of the piranhas mouth. I threw the fish towards the shore watching it land just inches away from my not so brave and not too good of a friend. He jumped back as the fish squirmed around as if it were chocking. Which, I hoped it was!

Now that the fish was off my foot I stood up and noticed blood all around my feet. I felt faint, the canoe was tossing from side to side as it was battered by the school of hungry piranha caught in a frenzy as the fragrance of the blood leaked out through the pores of the wooden canoe. I lost my balance and started to fall.

Fortunately, I fell into the canoe. I quickly crawled on all fours to the front of the canoe and jumped onto dry ground where I laid until the dizziness went away.

Standing up I walked slowly towards the still squirming fish. I raised my foot and stomped on it hoping to put it out of its misery. I did also causing it to spit out the remaining piece of my toe. I bent down to pick it up walked over to a nearby banana tree and ripped off a piece of the leaf to wrap my toe in. I stuffed the leaf deep into my pocket and started to walk towards the gathered onlookers when I noticed that there were several civilized people. I approached one and asked if he could help me to the nearest hospital, which he did. By the time I got there I was feeling tired and confused and could not remember what happened until I woke up the next day.

There was gauze wrapped around my left foot and I was told that it wasn’t pretty but my toe had been reattached.”

As I finished my story some guy exclaimed: ‘Bull! Prove it.”

I hesitated. “It is not pretty.”

Another guy chimed in: “You are lying. I bet you have never traveled outside of Texas.”

I started to take off my shoe as if I were embarrassed that they did not believe me. Embarrassed that I was going to have to show this crowd the only flaw in my otherwise (this is my opinion only) perfect body.

“Gross!’ exclaimed some.

“Do you remember the pain?” asked a cute girl as she approached me.

“Can I touch it?’ asked another.

I glowed in satisfaction. A story well told, captivating, although exaggerated.

When I started writing this article for my newsletter I wanted to talk about The Amazon. But, the Amazon that I really wanted to talk about was the one on the Internet.