Back From Tambopata

Hola de Cusco! I arrived back in Cusco Sunday morning at 6 AM from the Tambopata Reserve, a section of the Amazon jungle located in southeastern Peru near the Bolivian border. I´m not really sure where to begin-
I left Cusco on October 18th for Puerto Maldonado, a jungle town off the Madre de los Dios River. After a long conversation at the terminal terrestre with an Andean women trying to sell me blankets and instead teaching me Quechua, I boarded the bus for a 10 hour ride full of 180 degree turns scaling the side of mountains and speed bumps every few miles, for which the bus would come to a complete stop roll over, then speed up again. At one point, the bus stopped with no warning and a lady boarded the bus at 2 AM to sell her freshly baked bread and every so often men would rush off to pee before continuing our journey. Luckily I slept for most of the ride, but it´s quite strange to fall asleep in the freezing Andes and wake up in a humid jungle town sprawling with palm trees and colorful shacks.
Hector, the director of Inkaterra, picked me up at the bus station and a motortaxi (a motorcycle with a cart attached to it) brought me to the office. In Puerto, there are virtually no cars, just motorcycles zooming through the muddy streets. After carefully traversing the steep clay embankments to the river, we boarded a ¨peki-peki¨ a long wooden boat, packed it with viveros- food and water- before setting out on the two hour journey to the lodge. Ahead of us, the sky was a nice hazy blue, which I soon learned meant rain. One minute we were effortlessly gliding downstream toward Bolivia and the next, gusts of wind were rocking the rickety boat and horizontal columns of rain engulfed our boat. We had to pull to the side and tie to boat to a tree to prevent it from flipping over. The storm passed quickly as I desperately tried to wrap my dripping backpack in a poncho and we were on out way again.
Arriving at the small port of the volunteer lodge, we carried all of the food up clay steps and to an oxen cart. Everything that we need- water, gasoline, toiletries, and food, must be imported from Puerto Maldonado, so it was shocking to see how much we consume. Jorge, the lodge leader, tied himself in a rope attached to the cart and pulled it along the makeshift path, at least a 10 minute walk. Just as the darkness set in, I came upon the volunteer lodge- a walkway lined with tree cookies leading to two small buildings with thatched roofing and screen walls. The living arrangements were more than comfortable- I shared a room with one other volunteer, Bailey, and our cook, Trinidad. 4 bunk beds lined the walls and a cold shower awaited me, which I soon learned to embrace.
I could probably write a 200 page book about the next 18 days, so I´ll just mention some of my favorite memories:
- On the first day, we went to the Inkaterra farm to pick fruit for the guest lodge and I quickly learned that machetes are the preferred tool for everything. Gilberto would chop down a bunch of platanos and then take his machete to the whole banana tree. I got to help collect (and of course, sample) multiple types of platanos, carambolas (starfruit), paltas (avocados), cacao beans (for chocolate), limones, and several other fruits we don´t even have in the US. Carambolas are so plentiful here that during lunch, we would often have refrescos de carmabola or limon.
- One afternoon, we visited a family of the Machiguenca tribe who lives along the river. Their pet spider monkey shyly jumped from rafter to rafter of their shack inspecting us as we approached the sitting area. Noe (Noah in English), came to our boat and brought a picture of what looked like milk. After rinsing the cup in the river (which is contaminated with not only sewage but is also laden with mercury from gold mining), he handed me a cup of the liquid, which I politely took a sip of, expecting it was a fresh glass of milk. To my surprise, it was a a homemade alcoholic drink called Chicha made from fermenting yucas. We went up to his house, where his wife continued to serve us chicha, as well as a milder purple version and homemade Piscos sours. When Noe would go back to get more drinks, Jorge and Juan would gulp down the chicha for me. I took a few sips of the pisco sour, which I actually enjoyed- it´s citrusy, and more importantly cold. After a welcome, we went to the dancing hut, where Noe adorned me and Bailey with red face paint and then we attempted to start a fire by just rubbing two pieces of wood together. Even with 5 men huddled around, the wind conquered us and all we could get was a little smoke. Noe told us the history of Machguenca and how over time, various settlers have come in and massacred their tribes. Now small villages and familes dot the Madre de los Dios river, but no large settlements exist. Then for the main meal- a spaghetti mixture and tortoise leg...with the scales and claws still attached. I tried a little and it didn´t have much of a taste, but again, the boys ate the meat for us. Noe´s two-year-old daughter pushed a broken tricycle around the yard and would play peek-a-boo with me from behind her mother´s legs. Throughout the day, I was constantly amazed at the hospitality that Noe and his family provided when they barely had enough for themselves. It was incredible to me to see how little they had- their makeshift shack and couple chickens, yet were happy with their life and eager to share it with us.
- Every afternoon, after a siesta (the middle of the day is unbearably hot and humid), we would all play volleyball outside the volunteer lodge as the sun set behind the trees. At first Bailey and I were terrible, bruising our arms with our inaccurate hits, but by the end, we could actually compete. It was so fun because we spent the entire time yelling Spanish at each other, and even though we couldn´t say much, it connected us all. My favorite afternoon however, was a day where it rained all day and the volleyball court was a muddy mess. We took down the net and played a game of soccer. Because the ground was so wet, we spent more time on our butts than on our feet, but I felt so alive. Of course the middle-aged men around me could pull about any move and meg me constantly, but we got really competitive and came inside caked in mud, full of smiles.
- As part of the volunteer work (we didn´t really work that much because the volunteer program is new and they´re still organizing it), we spent one morning collecting seeds from seed traps in the jungle. Juan, a forest engineer, explained to me that an Indian researcher set up this five-year project- there are mesh traps hanging from trees 5 meters apart in a 14 x 14 grid. Every two weeks, we collect and document every one of the seeds and fruits that fall into the trap. The data is used to monitor how far a seed needs to be from its mother tree in order to successfully grow. If its too close, thew mother plant will out-compete it and the plant has no chance of survival. Juan explained to me each seed´s name and it was just cool to actually be part of research in the Amazon.
- A few times, we woke up at 4:30 AM to go birdwatching on a canopy walk 30 meters off the ground. Zoos give you this false impression that jaguars just walk the jungle and monkeys are hopping from every tree, but ín reality, you wait for twenty minutes just to see a bird and you´ll rarely see snakes or mammals. We were lucky and got to see a wide diversity of birds- toucans, parrots, and many other species. In my 18 days, we spotted one giant yellow snake, pelejos (sloths), several species of frogs on night walks, tarantulas (which quickly scurried into their holes), and a few families of monkeys. I love how rare it is to see animals in the jungle because when you finally do spot a bird, there´s a rush of excitement.

I could go on for pages about the adventures, but I think what´s most important is the tempo of the jungle. Many days we had nothing to do because it was either raining, too hot, or there simply was no work. At first, it was difficult for me to just be there and have nothing to accomplish. Over my three weeks though, I learned to embrace the slow tempo and kind of take the moment for what it is- we drew endless animals, read curled up in our beds, played Spanish monopoly, and just enjoyed the smaller things (like actually getting the volleyball over the net.) I already miss that slow-life feel, but I think I´ll forever have a greater appreciation for smaller things. In America, we´re over-stimulated- we´re given too many choices and too much variety so that when something small and amazing comes along, we´re almost disappointed because we don´t know how to take it for what it is. I hope that I´ve begun to learn the art of simple enjoyment and living for now.

It´s so difficult to write because I´m leaving out entire parts of my journey, but I guess this will be all for now. I decided to come home for Christmas because I want to spend the holidays with my family. I´ll be home December 20th, so I have 6 weeks to go. Nevertheless, I am loving Cusco right now, especially in the early morning when everything is sunny and the streets are quiet. People are friendly and I find myself striking up conversations with whoever seems to be near. Today, I´m going to do construction work and then I am off for a Cusco city tour. More later. Oh also, the sounds of rain and rumbling thunder in the jungle is the most amazing this ever. And also, I miss cheddar cheese.

love,

Leah