Therefore, I have no images of our sweaty jungle trek, nor the nighttime fishing expedition, my tick infested ankles, mosquito laden room, or the long slog to the village of Silves, where I made phone calls to let my family know that we were safe in Manaus, where we laughed with a dozen young Amazonian children under the light of the moon. All of those images - the stark poverty, the beauty of the flooded forest, the radiance of those children - I'll have to save somewhere other than an SD card. 
We're back in Manaus now and the 707 camera works. We've spent a few days here visiting sustainable development projects in the area, one of the themes of this Fulbright Seminar. The highlight of the day was a visit to OELA, a school that produces musical instruments made entirely out of FSC (Forest Stewardship Council) wood products. It was here that I met Luciano, a brazen 15-year old who stole my heart. Driven, charismatic, and genuine, this kid is going places. Chunky cumulus clouds rolled over Amazonia this afternoon as our boat 
sped us toward the confluence of the Rio Negro and Solimoes, a sight made more impressive by satellite than the photo I've provided. Two rivers: one black, one white; one fast, one slow; one a mosquito magnet, the other, a safe haven for those who left their anti-malaria meds back in Rio.
sped us toward the confluence of the Rio Negro and Solimoes, a sight made more impressive by satellite than the photo I've provided. Two rivers: one black, one white; one fast, one slow; one a mosquito magnet, the other, a safe haven for those who left their anti-malaria meds back in Rio. George, our jungle guide back in Silves and the man who taught Jennifer Lopez a bit of jungle survival during the film, Anaconda, warned me about Amazonian 
lily pads. He said the pads were large enough to hold a human baby. He explained this as he sliced the blade of a large machete into a tree to produce a shaving of bark that smelled like the cloves we'd smoke in junior high. George does not lie. Today, we caught a glimpse of these waxy water pancakes. Tomorrow: a quick visit to the Opera house and then we hop on our next flight to Belem. I now count the days until we return to the the red, the white and the blue of the other America sitting north of that corpulent equatorial belt called zero. I miss my family. I miss my friends. But I'm not quite ready to leave.
lily pads. He said the pads were large enough to hold a human baby. He explained this as he sliced the blade of a large machete into a tree to produce a shaving of bark that smelled like the cloves we'd smoke in junior high. George does not lie. Today, we caught a glimpse of these waxy water pancakes. Tomorrow: a quick visit to the Opera house and then we hop on our next flight to Belem. I now count the days until we return to the the red, the white and the blue of the other America sitting north of that corpulent equatorial belt called zero. I miss my family. I miss my friends. But I'm not quite ready to leave. 
3 comments:
We always enjoy reading your adventures in the Colorado suburb, south America, or to anywhere you might lead us. We can almost picture the trek in the jungle despite the missing photos. I bet the engineer may be able to retrieve the images if you bring the SD back.
Um, why would you want to place a baby on a lily-pad? "Hold on one sec, lemme put this baby down..."
Kiwi -
Who sang that song "Ooh ooh it's magic"? That, I think, is one of the anthems of your journey. It sounds like your recent adventures in the Pantanal and Amazon have been truly awesome. I can just imagine having a guarana on a star-filled evening in the Pantanal, seeing the Southern Cross in the heavens above...what a slice of the sublime! Thanks for keeping us posted and have fun in Belem!
French Fry
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