After a somewhat aborted trip through Bolivia, I´d made my way to the Brazilian border. Crossing the river between the two countries, I was looking forward to the many amenities that Brazil had to offer. While Bolivia had been a terrific experience, it was still one of the poorest countries around, and I was looking forward to comfortable buses and reasonably safe meals. Just walking through town on the opposite bank of the river showed the difference in economic status between the two countries. Newer cars, cleaner streets, nicer buildings, etc.

My plan in Brazil was to take to the river and work my way by boat from the border into the heart of Amazonia, Manaus, and from there make my way down the Amazon itself to the coast in Belém. Relying heavily on Stephan´s Portugese, we made our way to Porto Velho, the jumping off point for the four-day riverboat trip to Manaus. We decided to travel hammock class, which means you string your hammock in a communal area and pray your gear stays unmolested for the duration of the trip. The price was good though, about $40 for the 4-day trip.

If you are like me, the thought of relaxing in a hammock for four days while cruising down the Amazon river sounds pretty good. Dreams of lounging around sipping water and swatting flies while reading Heart of Darkness were floating through my head. Idealism such as this:

In fact, riverboat travel is profitable only when you can cram in as many people as possible. As a result, the reality of hammock class travel on the Amazon is more like this:

You can see the corner of my hammock just over the guy sleeping. It´s a little cozy and when the boat stops, it gets real warm real fast. The boats that cruise the river are fairly large as well and at the largest count we had about 40 hammocks crammed in.

That said, it was still a pleasant experience. Four days with nothing to do but pass the time and watch the water roll by. Upon arriving in Manaus, we passed the "Meeting of the Waters" where two major rivers, the Negro and the Solimões combine but the waters don´t actually mix. They run side-by-side for 10+ kilometers with blue water on one side and greenish-brown water on the other. Tours to see this spot cost a pretty penny in Manaus and I was glad we passed it in the boat, because while interesting, I didn´t really think it was worth all the fuss.

In Manaus, a bustling city reasonably isolated from the rest of the country, I was able to stock up on some new books, more cookies, and meat. One of the hallmarks of Brazilian cuisine is the Brazilian BBQ, a non-stop procession of spit-grilled meats brought to your table for your choosing. In Manaus, I decided to give it a try, and if ever there was a testament to gluttony, this was it. Using a small sign on the table, you indicate whether you want more food or if you´re full. If the sign is green, be prepared for an onslaught of savory meats. The only problem is if you don´t speak Portugese, you´re not really sure what you´re getting. I was convinced I´d be able to try them all, and attempted to, but there seemed to be a never-ending diversity. I went through sausages, lamb, fish, pork, ham, numerous cuts of beef, garlic seasoned beef, chicken, and decided to call it quits after a healthy portion of heart. How they afford to keep so many varieties cooked is beyond me, but I´m glad they do. It was great, and I didn´t need breakfast or lunch the next day.

From Manaus, I parted ways with Stephan as he planned to return to Bolivia and hopped a boat to Belém, the mouth of the Amazon. This was another 4-5 day trip and was rumored to be more crowded than the route up from Bolivia. As a result, I broke down and sprung for a bed. It was pricey, but worked out well, as I was in a cabin with air-condicioning and had it to myself. Much more comfy than I was used to. The food that came with cabin-class was also a step up. Every morning we were greeted with fresh passionfruit and watermelon, bread, ham, cheese, and coffee. Terrific. Dinners weren´t too shabby either. Regrettably, I avoided dysentery. Maybe next time.

The major downside to boat travel (on both trips) was the restrooms. Never have I longed more for an overused port-a-john. Particularly on the second boat, the facilities were vile. Essentially, it was a small cabin with enough room to either sit on the toilet or stand under the showerhead. That is, if you were short. If you happened to be tall, there was just room to sit on the toilet. Thus, when a usage was dictated, I was left hunched over under the showerhead (which leaked continuously of course) holding the seat up with one hand, trying to lean reasonably close to the toilet, while avoiding the scorching reprimand of the bare light-buld hanging perilously close to my ear. It was all quite ridiculous. The constant drip of the showerhead and all pipes leading to the showerhead meant that the toilet seat and toilet paper were constantly soaked and, of course, when teamed with the heat of Amazonia, a hugely varied array of fungi were thriving on the floor and walls. Lovely.

Despite that, though, I did enjoy the trip. It gave me an appreciation for the size of the Amazon watershed and engendered in my heart a hatred of the horrid DJ remix dance music which is currently hugely popular throughout Brazil. The Brazilian theory seems to be if you´re going to listen to crappy music, you may as well do it loudly. Ah well, I´ve only got a month or so to go in one of the biggest countries in the world. It will certainly grow on me.