"Walking the streets, under the stifling afternoon sun, are girls dressed in long flowy gowns--with high heels that border on being stilettos strapped to their sweaty feet, their perfectly quaffed hair bending from the heat. They couldn't possibly be comfortable, especially since they're just going from home to the grocery store. My camo t-shirt, ponytail, and ripped jeans make me stand out like a sore thumb amidst these stunning women." -excerpt from my journal.
I was in my early twenties and Belem Brazil was a long way from home. Belem in a sentence--a beautiful port city where women look like super models and tarantulas crawl down the sidewalks as common as stray dogs in Mexico, or squirrels in British Columbia. (I hate spiders with the fire of a thousand suns. There's a good reason-but this is a story for another time).
I spent most of my time in Belem preparing for our trip up the Amazon River and avoiding tarantulas like the plague. Whenever I spotted one I would squeal and jump into the arms of my friend Josiah. He on the other hand thought it was funny to fart on them--so far this trip he'd successfully farted on a toad the size of a small cat, and on a one eyed parrot. But he had his sights set on a big hairy spider. The locals ignored the spiders, small boys jabbed them with sticks or road their bikes over them. From my seat, cradled in the fetal position in Josiah's arms, the Brazilians seemed so brave.
What I didn't know was that I was about to venture into a world that would make the urban spiders much less scary.
We awoke with the sun and readied our backpacks. I'm not a prissy girl but I do like stylish clothes, and clean underwear. I may have over packed, just a tad...I could hardly lift my backpack. (I should mention that I'm a red head and 5 minutes in the sun without sunscreen = burnt, like painful skin boiled burnt). So in my defense my bag had 4 bottles of 60+ block sunscreen. My friends rolled their eyes when I exited my room dragging the bag behind me. Josiah told me if I fall down he will fart on me, which I didn't doubt for one minute. But I just couldn't justify taking anything out, because the guy I was crushing on at the time, (his name is James and he's a buff sailor from New Zealand), was coming with us, I wanted to have everything I needed.
Translation: I needed to look cute and wearing the same shirt twice is never cute.
James picked up my bag and slid it over his shoulders, then handed me his. It was so light, I was positive it was empty. Or maybe it just felt light because I was hard-core swooning.
He sat beside me, our bodies squished together, in the taxi on the way to the harbor. He smelled like Old Spice, for which I will not complain. I tried to play it cool, but I was sweating like a pig, thanks to the taxi's air conditioning not working, and already regretting the decision to wear jeans. Belem is hot, unnaturally so, but I'm a jeans girl to the core, a little heat couldn't keep me from my lifetime dedication to denim.
Josiah, was squished on my other side, watching me wipe sweat off my forehead and clinging to James' backpack on my lap. Then he raised his leg and twisted his face in a look I've seen numerous times, the fart look.
There may have been some swearing from my other friends, but there definitely was a mass exodus to the windows. Lucky for us we were close to the harbor and didn't have to sit in his stench for long. So far he'd farted on a toad, a one eyed parrot, a dozen or so tarantulas, and now a car load of international travelers and friends--seems he got his wish to fart on me after all. (If you're curious to see what his fart face looks like see below. *yes this is actually him and he likely farted on that poor fish).
I was expecting some hard looking, mechanical beast of a boat to take us up the deadly Amazon River to our camp spot. Instead our guide stopped in front of a long and narrow home built thingy that kinda sorta looked like a boat, but really it looked more like a mini school bus with only half a roof.
It rocked as I stepped down, I was certain it was going to dump me into the harbor. But the boys steadied it as I took my seat. When we were all loaded in, we pushed off, and started towards the mouth of the river. Great trees hung over like a canopy, vines intertwined. There were times when I thought our little boat wouldn't be able to fit in the narrow passages, but somehow we always made it through. I climbed up onto the roof next to Josiah to get a better view. We batted the branches away as we slowly snaked through the river.
A butterfly the size of a textbook, and the brightest color of turquoise I've ever seen, floated leisurely before us like a guide for the boat. I ached to reach forward and touch it. It was so beautiful, the whole jungle was so beautiful, but so hot. I couldn't wait until we got to our location so I could jump in the water and cool down.
The guide slowed the boat and pointed up into the trees to a large web. It looked like a colony of spiders had spent an eternity weaving it to perfection. Trapped inside was a crow-sized bird. A shudder passed through me. It was then I realized that everything was bigger in the jungle, I also realized that I'd hate to cross paths with a spider that could eat a bird.
After a couple of hours of snaking our way through the various river channels and a full bottle of water later, Josiah needed to go pee. He stood up and turned to pee over the side, I saw the stream, realized what he was doing and hid my face. The boat came to a screeching stop, lurching him forward, he ducked narrowly avoiding a branch.
This is when the guide told us about Candiru, or as the locals call it, Vampire Fish. They can swim up a pee stream and cause infections or worse. (Google it, I dare you). Needless to say my desire to go swimming was curbed right then and there. Josiah held his pee the rest of the way and complained that he felt a burning sensation--he was certain the vampire fish was wriggling inside of him.
I may or may not have told him it probably was. Hey, he farted on me!
We soon pulled up to where we were staying and exited the boat. We spent the next few hours readying our hammocks and bug nets. The guide told us the hammocks are to keep us off the ground so the snakes don't curl under our bodies for warmth, and the bug nets are to keep the spiders away. After he told us that I was too scared to sleep by myself so I shared my hammock with my friend Melany from Germany. It was the most uncomfortable sleep of my life. Between taking turns clutching the flashlight and stick-to hit the spiders off our nets, apparently they like to all crawl in one spot to weigh the net down so they can get to us--I was a stick ninja and did not let that happen. My ninjaness consisted of shining the flashlight at every shadow, screaming when the spiders dropped from the trees onto the net, flailing my limbs as I smack the net with the stick while trying to keep the hammock balanced--I could not risk tipping us, I knew what was on the other side, and that was the last place I wanted to end up.
The one good thing about the spiders was that they distracted me from the sounds of the jungle, the creaky trees, the buzzing, loud dripping mysterious liquid, eerie flapping wings.
Apparently my screaming (and Mel's screaming in German ((mostly swears that I recognized from my Oma and Opa))) kept the boys awake, so James reset his hammock next to ours. When the sun broke through the leaves in the morning I felt a hand clutching mine, and awoke to his arm stretch across and under the net. Mel's knee was in my back and I didn't like the gap in the net, I was worried it would let the bugs in, but I didn't move, not until he woke. We never spoke of the hand holding, a part of me always wonders if he held it all night.
The next day we prepared for a 10 mile hike through the jungle to get to the village where we were teaching English. I was exhausted, I was stinky, and I was certain there was a spider web stuck to my face at all times. We followed behind the guide who hacked at loose branches and vines with a machete. I kept my head down for fear of seeing anything that would send me into a panic.
We stopped at a fork in the path. To my right was more jungle and the left a marshland. There was a sign in a language I didn't understand but it had a picture, a picture I knew all too well. It was a snake.
The guide asked us if we wanted to cross over the marsh and carve 4 hours of hike off our journey. He warned that the path was dangerous at times, though truthfully so was the jungle. I suggested a vote, which was the stupid thing to do because everyone in the group except for me agreed on going through the marsh. Maybe it's because they're backpacks were heavy and the one I was carrying was light, or maybe because they didn't like getting scratched by swinging branches, or maybe they just wanted to see me squirm--as my friends often like doing. Either way I found myself stuck going the snake route.
It was fine at first, mud squished up over my boot toes, but I followed along, this time with my eyes fixed on James shoulders in front of me. I was not looking down, the snakes were down. I almost ran into my own backpack before I realized James stopped. The guide pointed ahead at what looked to me to be a small lake. He told us we were crossing it, but to be careful as the snakes nest under the water. I started walking back but Josiah grabbed me by my backpack and held me there. I knew I didn't have a choice but I so desperately wanted to have it.
There was a sort-of-bridge under the water. And by sort-of I mean pieces of two-by-four propped on rocks. But it had rained recently and the wood was submerged at least half a foot. I held back tears as I followed behind James, one foot after another, trying to balance as the gross water poured into my boots. We took slow careful steps. I refused to look at the murky water surrounding us for fear of seeing a snake.
Josiah followed behind me coaxing me along, threatening to fart on me if I fell into the snakes. I didn't fall but he did, and he dragged one of our friends in with him. As they struggled to pull themselves out of the water I saw slivers of tails flip about. It could have been one snake, but at that point I imagined hundreds. I ran---pretty sure I was saying "ew, ew, ew, ew," the whole time--as fast as I could toward the end.
Lucky for me, I made it without falling, as did everyone in front of me that I rushed.
We came upon the village an hour or so later, and they had rooms and running water. I had a long cold shower then attempted to play football/soccer with the children before a warm meal and bed.
That night I realized how lucky I am and all the basic necessities I take for granted. I also realized I can face my fears and be ok. For that Brazil will always have a special place in my heart.
*James and I did end up dating for awhile, but we never worked out, thankfully, because I couldn't imagine my world without my rockstar hubby. But I'll tell you the story of how I met Dave another day!