believe in the jungle

i have developed the habit of not believing people when they say things. part of this is due to peopels incessant bragging, and part due to other factors. for example: in colombia we were taking a van from here to there down a hot, dusty road. a goat ran by in front of the van and the van had to stop short. everyone slid forward and was slightly alarmed. the driver apologized. i saw the whole thing happen, though many did not. i told anna, "a goat ran by." nearby, in a separate conversation, a guy said, "i think it was a dog, goats dont run like that." i fle tno need to respond or justify my opinion. i was never in doubt. the driver heard the discussion and announced that a goat had run by. the other guy was quiet. i didnt necessarily feel vindication because i never thought i was wrong.

we met a girl in colombia who claimed that she had traveled extensively and lived in africa. she had also lived in new york city and had many interesting jobs. yet, her other topics of conversation included, exclusively, how drunk she was and had been - and her urinary tract infection. something was incongruous. then, we found out that she was 21 and had just graduated college. she had studied abroad in egypt and visited other countries for a short amount of time (different connotation than what she had originally announced). and, i didnt ask, but im assuming she did some sort of internship in new york.

 

so, when we got to the jungle, i didnt know what to think. first of all, it is difficult to imagine the expansiveness of the jungle. we were in teh amazon basin and ecuador doesnt even touch the amazon river itself. we were on the cuyabeno river and we were about 5 hours of busride into the jungle, and then a conoe ride. we conoed (in a canoe with motor) some three hours from where we were - all dense jungle, dripping and humid with bird calls, monkeys and insects filling the air with noise. still, on the map we hardly traveled any significant distance even in ecuador - a tiny country that is half jungle. the rest of the amazon basin is in larger portions of peru, colombia and of course brazil. we canoed so much that i figured we must have crossed into brazil, but no. at night, the chatter of birds and insects far off sounded like the chatter of a nearby family gathered around the tv, but no. we were in pretty deep as far as im concerned but space in the world is difficult to gauge, so there was always the sneaking suspicion that we were in the bronx zoo somewhere, lost.

 

we brought a bottle of rum into the jungle, but that was gone after the first night due to our having met some nice people and hanginga out with our guide, romulo. after helping himself to significant portions of our rum, romulo became drunk and talkative. he told stories of staring jaguars face to face. he told stories of capturing 30 foot anacondas and fishing pirhanas with his machete. i figured that i, a city kid, had no real ground to stand on from which to not believe him until he made one slip-up. he brought out two drink concoctions to contribute to the party. one was a sugarcane moonshine steeped with a special tree bark. it was kind of tasty and aromatic and it burned your insides. the other, which burned more, was a sugarcane moonshine steeped with coca leaves and a dead scorpion. the scorpion juice was given the distinction of being the source of his strength. he said it made him stronger and never made him chuchaqui (hungover). he could drink it all night and get up at daybreak and do manual labor, then catch an anaconda. even more than the scorpion juice, however, was a remedy his grandmother made him drink when he was young. she killed a turtle once, they ate it, and she made him drink the blood of the turtle. that turtles blood (since turtles live so long) has made it so that he has never been sick and is always strong and ready for action. still, i had no reason not to believe him. later though, many drinks down the road, his voice more slurred, he told a story about how strong his father is, and that once when he was sick, his father lifted a conoe all by himself even though romulo was supposed to help. ha! when he was sick, i thought, what happend to the turtle juice remedy?! great, i thought, we are being led around the jungle by a cocky, lying 19 year old kid!

 

the next night, we went on a conoe trip down the river searching for wildlife. the river is of the muddy, murky jungly sort and the banks are muddy as well. it is hard to spot things during the day. at night, when it is dark, the task becomes tougher. romulo positioned himself at the front of the canoe, with a weak flashlight in hand, while i was content to sit back, listen to the bugs, and not think about what would await me if the boat tipped over. every so often, romulo would announce that an alligator was on teh banks. when he shines his light on them, their eyes glowed red. most of them would slide into the water when we came too close. most of them i didnt see. one time, under a large fallen tree, and the growth around it, romulo spotted a red eye. we paddled over to the banks, and i didnt see what he was talking about, so i thought maybe it had either slid into the water, or he was making it up. from where i was, all i saw was romulo bend over the side of the canoe, then i heard some banging and within a few seconds, romulo stood up holding a caiman (a type of alligator). he held it up by the neck and the pelvis. he brought it through the canoe for all of us to pet. it was hard like a rock and scaly. he told us that you can tell its age by how many spikes its tail has. this one was 15 months old. he opened its mouth and showed us its razor teeth, and put it back in the water. the whole boat was exhilerated and i decided that i had no right not to believe his stories.