…drinking in flipflops

While we were waiting at the bus station in Quito we decided to sit near the window bay a little ways away from the masses.  As I was sitting there a guy came and sat down right next to me, and because there were plenty of other open seats (instead of sitting on the window sill) I became a little suspicious of him.  That and another guy arrived at the same time and stood just a few feet from us not really doing anything at all; and he didn´t look like he was traveling anywhere.  The guy next to me seemed like he was trying to get me to look at him and away from our bags (Elisha was getting us some food), so he would mumble and say ‘oye’ and seemed upset when I wouldn´t look at him.  Occasionally he would mutter something intelligible and I wold answer him without looking at him, but that would just send him back to mumbling.  Then every once and a while the other guy would try to glance nonchalantly at our bags.  This went on for about a half an hour before they took of and then we headed out to our bus and on our way to Loja.

As dusk started to settle on us we passed Cotopaxi, Ecuador’s famed cone volcano.  The clouds had disappeared and we were able to enjoy the magnificent sight of Cotopaxi rising out of the surrounding plains, shining  and lording over the pampas.  It was incredible to see, as even though I was able to summit the peak last time I was in Ecuadador it was perpetually shrouded in clouds and snow, ad when we reached the summit it was a blizzard.

Arriving in Loja in the morning we pulled Elisha’s bag out from under the bus only to find that the bottom of her bag was covered in animal lard that had spilled out of a container being transported as cargo.  If we had not planned on stopping Loja already we would have had to now.  It took a good portion of the morning to clean the bag…

Riding through the countryside from Loja to Piura we experienced the lesser traversed route through the Andes.  Small houses with red-tile roofs with a lonely cross perched on the peak blur past.  Short brown goats lazily chewing grass on the side of the road; large green mossy Dr Suess-like trees, their large spiny branches fanning out like an upside down basket, dotting the hill side.  Two old men, felt hats perched at an angle upon their heads, sitting on the side of the road laughing.  Winding along there were mountains behind mountains (deyen mon gey mon), brown hills droping into green valleys with silver ribbons.  The bus skidding to a dusty stop as a lone donkey saunters out of the way, swatting flies with its coarse tail.  Our simple crossing of Ecuador and into Peru…

Piura, Peru.  Our friendly taxi driver taking us around town; first to a bank and then to the next bus company.  We arrived at one company to find out they had no ongoing buses, so then he knew of another.  Driving through town our route was locked by continual construction, so we parked the car and he walked to the bus station making sure there were tickets available.  Once purchasing our tickets we walked through the dusty streets to a road-side food vendor for a hearty plate of chicken and rice.  The couple sharing the table with us chatting away and sharing their love for Piura and Peru.  We left with hasta prontos and an exchange of email addresses.

We woke up to our first early morning view of Peru, surprised at what we saw.  Bleak moon-like landscapes with limpid grey soil, barren mountains peirced with the occasional random tin roof shack.  At times the barrenness disappeared into the grey-blie coast of the Pacific.  Stopping at restaurant for breakfast Elisha came up three times lucky: staring back at her from her breakfast of chicken soup were three upturned chicken feet, as though some mutant chicken had drowned and was now bobbing there in front of her…

In Lima we procured another taxista to take us to the bus station to check on tikets to Cusco, our fabled destination.  He drove us to the Cruz del Sur station and came inside with us to make sure we got the right bus: a bus cama.  Unfortunately due to strikes high up in the Andes with people blocking the roads they woldn´t be going anytime soon.  We then trid another scompany with no success.  He then took us to one final company that not only had a bus going the folowing day, it was cheaper!  After purchasing our tickets we decided to try our drivers advice about a hostel in the Miraflores area of Lima.  Turned out to be a nice choice.  After we setteled in the driver asked for more money than we had agreed upon, but we gave in and paid him as we would still end up saving money over buying the first bus ticket we looked into.  The next morning we recieved a call from the bus company (most have gotten our hotel number from the driver as it was the same company) that they couldn’t take the direct and shorter route to Cuscu, but we could get to Arequipa and transfer there.  We agreed.  That afternoon we flagged a cab driven by a friendly old man who explained that Lima was growing and we wouldn’ recognize it when we returned to Peru.  He also filled us in on the car buying market in Peru; it’s now better to buy new than second hand Japanese or Korean models.  He dropped us at the terminal for a pittance…

Our bus to Arequipa was a true bus cama: the seats are wider (only three to a row) and recline almost vertically.  They also provide pillow, blankets, dinner and breakfast!  The bus was in a tad shoddy condition as the air con didn’t work; but it cooled eventually.  This was also the first bus we were on tho play decent movies.  We woke in Arequipa with our best bus nights sleep yet…

Once we arrived we went to work looking for a bus company leaving to Cusco as soon as possible.  We found one in the company Ormeño.  Our two hour wait turnd to almost four before we finally loaded up; and while we thought this was going to be a first class bus, it wasn’t.  Once again the air conditioning wasn’t working, so with the heat of the day we moved from the lower floor to the upper floor where the windows opened.  Several hours down the road we were stopped at a police checkpoint and told the road was closed and we could go no further.  Strike up a head.  After milling about for a while we were allowed to proceed with a half dozen other buses.  The rao began to pass throuh the high Andes with snow capped peaks in the background spiriling through country-side with each turn of the bus.  Occaionally a small stone house would appear around a corner, llamas grazing on the nearby grasses.  Then, once again at a small town in the middle of the Andes we were stopped and told the road was blocked.  Here we got out to see what we could see.  The town was composed of several small mud and concrete structures surrounded by more mud and a defunct railroad track.  When we came across the town square we were surprised to see 50 or police officers dressed in full riot regalia; waiting, just waiting…

After a bit we were allowed to once again proceed, but after several kilometres we were forced to stop again behind a long line of buses and semi-trucks.  Our bus could go no further.  We were then told that we would have to walk the three kilometres or so through the road block to the end of the line of buses waiting there and then catch a bus or collectivo onto the next town where we could once again find an Ormeño bus to take us (for free) the rest of the way to Cusco).  We set out through the throngs of people as the sun began to set, crossing paths with those people doing the same trip as us but in reverse.  When we arrived at the strike line it was almost dark as we passed through huge stines and burning tires placed in the road to stop traffic from continuing.  The bus personel had warned of rocks being thrown, but the whole area had the air of a carnival: people milling about, talking with one another, restaurants set up along the side of the road…Finally the darkness was apon us as we came to the last bus in the line and bought ourselves two tickets to Juliaca.  Then we waiting or another two hours for the bus to fill up.

We found ourselves in the grey-wet sogginess of Juliaca at 10:30 pm.  We quickly hailed a cab with the help of someone standing nearby, and were whisked through town in search of the Ormeño office.  We found it.  Closed.  Thus began our pursuit or the ellusive bus to Cusco.  Our driver stopped at every bus company so I could ask if they had a bus going to Cusco.  Most did, either full or only one seat.  Finally we found a bus leaving in a half an hour and quickly bought our tickets for our last six our ride before Cusco…

We arrived in southern Ecuador after a long night on the bus. It felt good to be leaving the big city of Quito but a bit sad at the same time; we really didn´t really get much of a chance to explore the country as we are in such a hurry to make it to Cuzco. It´s a bit of a shame as there is quite a bit more we would like to see. Next time…

Riding in taxis has always been a pain in the ass. They´re expensive, you don´t know exactly where in the hell you´re going or where you´re at, and you never know if the driver is going to try to take off before you get all your stuff out of the trunk. When we arrived in Quito it was almost 12:30 am, so it was dfficult to get our bearings in the dark during the taxi ride. To top it all they built a new bus station about 15 km North of town; the old one was about half a kilometre from where we wanted to stay. When it came time to leave Quito we once again had to flag down one of those little yellow bastards…  We immediately flagged down a cab and when we asked the price to the bus station he said $10.  Well, this didn´t seem right as we paid $7 for a ride into town at midnight, so we offered up $5.  This didn´t sit well with the driver.  He swore no one would take us to the station for that kind of money and drove off.  Oh well, we had lots of time and another taxi would be by shortly.  A few minutes later the same driver rolled passed again and gave us an incredulous look; he must have just circled around the block to check out our plight.  A few already full cabs passed us and then once again the same cab stopped in front of us.  This time he asked how much we wanted to pay.  We proffered $7, he countered with $8 and we hopped in the cab.  The driver turned out to be a nice old man, who with chatted with the entire way to the bus station.  As we headed along the road we continually went South (I thought we would be heading back North as that is where we got off the bus), and a few of the neighborhoods looked a bit too rundown…  It turns out that when they closed the old bus station in the center of Quito they opened up TWO bus stations.  One in the North and one in the South, and the one in the South is much farther away than the one in the North.  No wonder the price difference.  When we arrived at the bus station I kind of felt like a fool for trying to get the cab ride for so cheap (how were we to know the station wasn´t where we thought?), so we paid the guy the $10 he originally asked for.  Besides, we didn´t want any bad karma.

Once we arrived in Loja, Ecuador in the morning we once again had to flag down a taxi.  Right away we were a bit on edge with our driver as no sooner than we got out of the bus station he asked to pay the fare because he said it was illegal to stop in the city center and unload.  This seemed a bit fishy to us, so we prepared ourselves for the worst.  As we pulled up to the hotel Elisha pretended to take her time getting out of the cab while I unloaded the bags, the whole time the guy was yelling at Elisha to get out.  Maybe it was nothing, maybe something.  Then as we were getting ready to walk into the hotel the taxi driver inthe cab behind us stopped to tell us that a $10 bill fell out of my pocket.  Go figure…

There didn´t appear to be much to do in Loja and for the most part we were just using it to give our asses a break form the apaprently never-ending bus rides.  We did see one thing that peaked our interest: the zoo and orchid park.  I´ve always liked zoos as a kid, especially the Toledo Zoo and the way you used to have to park on one side of the road and then walk through a tunnel under it to get to the otherside.  That was always my favorite.  Maybe I got lucky and saw good zoos or my opinion has changed, but now a lot of times I´m mostly saddened by them; the animals always look so sad and miserable.  As if they would have rather been shot than incarcerated….  Anyway, the main draw to the zoo was that it claimed to have Andean bears, something I figured we never see in the wild.  The zoo was a small little affair, and sad as we expected it to be.  We came upon the bear pit (yes it was basically a fenced in pit with a bit of grass in it), and saw our first two Andean bears.  The first bear we saw was a small female, apparently they´re about 1/3 the size of the male, and it was indeed pitiful.  I think she had the mange.  Her body was smooth and hairlees except for a mane of hair around her head; if they hadn´t said it was a bear I would have thought it some kind of jackle-like creature.  The male was also in the cage and he was in much better condition.  He actually looked like a black bear from home except that he had some white markings on his face.  Even though he was in better health he still appeared sad and miserable; perhaps because his mate was in such a sorry state.  He would walk around and came up to the fence the gaze back at us and I just wanted to reach out and pet his dog-like snout…

After looking at the remaining monnkeys, birds and several big cats we headed off to the orchid park.  We were prepared to be amazed by the beauty, color and sizes of the over 200 species of orchids endemic to Ecuador; and we were amazed.  Amazed at the lack of flowers.  While there were indeed hundreds of plants in the greenhouses, maybe 5 had flowers.  I don´t know if this is because it wasn´t the season for the orchids (i´m hoping), that they were all dead, or that they were in fact just a bunch of typical green house plants.  How would we know.  We did enjoy our little stroll through the shady gardens and then headed back to town, preparing ourselves for the continuing bus rides…

Having managed to pull ourselves away from the calm and serenity of Salento, we began our madcap push to get to Cuzco, Peru in time to meet my parents at Macchu Picchu.  Rumored about the hostel was word of a bus leaving Armenia (the nearest big Colombian town) heading directly for the Colombia/Ecuador border.  It in fact turned out to be true, however when we arrived at the bus terminal 45 minutes prior to departure we were informed that they only had one seat left.  Thus defeated we found the apparent next best thing: a bus to Pasto, Colombia a mere 2 hours from the border.  However, the bus didn´t leave for another 5 hours, and as it turned out, was 3 hours late at that.  So at almost 2:30 in the morning we groggily dragged ourselves onto the first of many buses…  We finally managed to drag ourselves into the Secret Garden Hostel in the heart of colonial Quito at 12:30 am; almost a straight 24 hours on buses, colectivos and taxis!

Quito is an incredibly wonderful little town; well, it feels little if you confine yourself to just the old quarter of the city with it´s magnificent colonial architecture and towering centuries-old churches piercing the skyline.  The view from the upper terrrace of our hostel is amazing with the center spreading out in front us, calmly disappearing onto the flanks of several dormant volcanoes…  We climbed up the into the towers of the basilica, wending our way high above the surrounding city.  It´s amazing how far Quito stretches out in front of us.  Once in the church towers we were able to walk above the rafters on a fragile wooden-planked walkway to the opposite end where we popped out amongst another tower, for another hair-raising and eye-boggling climb up a rebar ladder to another 360 degree view of the city.  The rest of our time here has been spent relaxing amidst the plazas and winding streets here on the Equator.  We are now officially in the Southern Hemisphere…

With the lethargy hanging heavy in the air around Salento we found it almost impossible to get anything done (not that we had too much to do…).  Two mornings in a row we tried to get up the iniative to rent horses and go for a ride through the brillant country side, but one morning we couldn´t find anyone to arrange it for us and the second morning it looked like it was going to rain…

We spent our days hanging out with Kim from Australia and James from New Zealand.  As it turned out James birthday was on 9, November, and so without breaking from our now daily routine we were able to celebrate with coffee and lunch.  With Elisha´s 25th birthday on 10, November we repeated our previous day, this time with a round of happy birthday from the staff at Jesús Martin´s.  We also made sure that they had chocolate cake for Elisha´s birthday.  It was nice that they remembered the cake as well as her birthday, singing happy birthday to her when they brought the strawberry daquiri.

Our routine in Salento was quickly established upon our arrival.  We spent our mornings having coffee at the fabulous Jesús Martin coffee shop just off the plaza.  (www.cafejesusmartinbedoya.com).  They are the local coffee merchant/roaster in town and the coffee is phenomenal; we also took the tour of the roasting factory one morning and would recommend it.  After our morning coffees we would walk the two blocks through the across the small palm fringed central plaza to our restaurant of choice: Rincon de Lucy.  The fare was usually a choice of pollo a la plancha, carne a la plancha or trucha a la plancha.  After having tried them all, we spent all of our lunch and dinners (and the occasional breakfast) there, they are all equally tasty.  Thus having finished lunch we would head back to The Plantation House for a bit ogf quality time on the veranda before once again making our back to Jesús Martin´s…  They have quite a menu of drinks, most of which contain coffee or coffee flavoured liquor, and James had somehow gotten the idea to try all of the drinks that included the two.  He did manage to avoid a few as they didn´t whipped cream for some reason.  He did make it through the entire coffee menu before we left town ending with the Coctel Jesús Martin, a wicked cocktail containing a shot if just about every kind of liquor and having no resemblace to anything coffee-like…

Due to an overwhelming indiference and lack of desire to take a night bus from Bogota to Salento, we decided to pass one more evening in the capital.  After much mulling around we eventually found our way to the Botero museum.  The museum is housed in an old colonial mansion and besides the Botero collection there is also a handful of other museums in the complex (which we didn’t visit).  Botero is a Colombian artist and sculptor from Medellin who is famous for all of his art work being slightly out of proportion; everything in his paintings, drawings and sculptures are made to somewhat fat…

Earlier we had passed through the Plaza Bolivar and noticed that it looked like they were setting up for a concert, so after that evening we made our way back to see what it might be.  Unfortunately the concert either took place earlier or it was just a practice run as they were deconstructing the stage when we got there.  However, we were drawn to a crowd of people in front of the Supreme Court building.  It turns out it was the 15 year anniversary of a seige by a group called M-19, wherein they took the building hostage and during the next 30 hours while the government was attempting to regain control, the building  was almost completely destroyed and several people were never found.  In front of the building was a solemn tripute to thos diappeared, with chalk outlines on the ground to denote the missing and candles and notes from loved sprawled across the pavement in chalk.  It was quite moving…  As we continued on our way they main street was closed to vehicle traffic and it was full of different artists, street performers and vendors.  We bought some Churochuro (?) (which I think is intestines in some form or another, and very tasty), some tea infused with rum and enjoyed the many different performances under the soft yellow glow of the street lamps…

The bus ride to Salento was a hot and steamy burst of greens, winding through the mountains; once again we were in the Andes.  Arriving at the Plantation House Hostel we let out a great sigh of relief to be in the cool fresh mountain air after spending a week in Bogota, and quickly made ourselves at home. Waking up in the morning we joined a German couple and French guy on a trek to Valle de Cocora, home to Colombia’s national tree: the wax palm.  Rubbing the sleep from our eyes at 6:30 am we piled on the back of a Jeep Wrangler with 11 other people for a hair-raising 45 minute ride through a gorgeous coffee-filled valley to the end of the road.  Our hike began by passing under the 200 foot tall wax palms that graced the valley floor.  We continued on a well-worn path, dug a metre or so deep into the mud by the constant presence of horses, and made our way through the cloud forest to a small nature reserve.  The thick, moss-covered vines and giant ferns presented me with the scenery I had expected to see on the top of Roraima.  With a cup of hot chocolate andthick wedge of cheese we enjoyed the constant darting and blurring of humming birds before turning back down the mountain.  Once again we passed under the pencil thin umbrella of the wax palms, this time coated in a hazy mist of drizzle…

Bogotá still feels like home; this is probably best illustreated by the fact that our daily plans generally never get accomplished.  We did however finally make it out to the Zona Rosa (the ritzier area of town) the other day and, amongst other things, we made it to the mall and an camping outfitter.  The city is much larger than the feeling one gets from living in the La Candelaria area.  Riding the city’s mass transport system, the Transmilenio, you can zip across town quickly and cheaply.  Just like any other large town the pockets of poverty and affluence abutt one another, rapidly changing from one to the other without warning.  Ducking into an alley-like stariwell we found ourselves in small restuarant elbow to elbow with the various working classes of Bogotá where you simply find an empty chair and find yourself sharing a table with a plumber and a laywer.  We still really haven’t gotten below the surface despite being in town for almost a week now…

Being in the university district adds to the night life, something that was lacking in Venezuela as just about everything seemed to close near dusk.  Just up the road from us is a hidden little cobblestone district with a mulititude of dark, smoke filled 4-person bars; and air is ripe with the scent of marijuana.  The other day we ducked into one of the bars tucked away in a shadowy corner for a ‘chicha.’  Unaware of what we would be getting, I suppose we shouldn’t have been surprised with what we were served.  In front of us arrived four calabash shells filled with a syrup the color and texture of dysentery; which surprisingly isn’t as bad is it makes itself out to be.  The liquid was room temperature (actually probably a little warmer as the room temperature was probably in the 50’s), and had small chunks of corn in it.  It had the taste and warming sensation of Klerin.  I was able to drink most of mine (those calabash shells are bigger than they appear) although Elisha couldn’t get past the look and supposed smell to really even take a sip…

North of Bogotá we visited the small town of Zipaquira to see the salt cathedral.  The area is famous for it’s salt mining, and back in the days the miners used to carve small chapels into the mine walls so they could pray as they came and went from work.  This eventually grew to turning an exhausted mine into an actual underground church back in the 1950’s.  This original church eventually became to dangerous for people to enter, and so in the early 90’s they excavated a purpose built salt cathedral.  This church had quite a bit more planning as it was designed by an architect in Bogotá and is full of religious and catholic symbolism.  Along the way from the entrance down to the actual worship area you pass symbolic representaions of the 14 (?) stages of the cross (apparently what happened to Jesus from where he started carrying the cross to the spot where he was crucified and buried).  Every station is a cross, somehow modified from the others, and lit with different colored lights to symbolize heaven and eternal hope.  The work was quite outstanding.  Once past these you ‘entered’ the church, although we were already probably 60 meters below the surface.  It was amazing how much salt was excavated and the amount of detail they put into the work;  inspiring gazing heavenwards and seeing nothing but the darkened ceiling of the mine…

The greyness continued today with a heavy rain falling as Elisha and I arranged for a Spanish tutor for several hours in the afternoon.  The tutor was good and we learned varying amounts of new and old information, but I think a more formalized instruction would be more beneficial for me.  With our time running out before we need to be in Cusco (less than 20 days!), we’re taking leave of Bogotá tomorrow eveing and heading to the famed coffee zone to spend the weekend on a finca and pass as afternoon gazing at wax palms…

Arrived in Bogota the other day, it’s a welcome relief from the heat from the last few months (essentially since the begining of the trip).  For some reason I always feel at home here in the La Candelaria region of town.  …from Leticia we flew up on Aires, and that little jaunt put the travel back into traveling.  It just seems that you miss so much by flying and hte scenery changes too quickly, at least by bus (even a night bus) the scenery rumbles past slowly and the changes outside aren’t quite as quick and jarring…

From my last visit I was under the impression that the colonial Spanish style architecture was missing a bit from here, but I guess I never really delved too deep into the section.  Yesterday we walked around quite a bit of La Candelaria and it really is full of nice architecture; too bad there are already too many hostels in this area…  We tried to make a reservation for a place in Bogota because it seems like we’re back on the gringo trail again; when we arrived in Manaus we saw more people in that one hostel than we did in all of Venezuela!  It’s a bit of a shock to the system, but I guess with the increase inbackpackers there is a corresponding increase in accomadation.  (we ended up staying at a hostel called Villa Candelaria - it was recommended to us by the hostel we first tried - and it’s a nice colonial building, not too manyother people which is kind of nice).  One thing we didn’t plan on, or failed to realize, was that we were arriving in town on Halloween night and we didn’t think it that celebrated of a holiday.  We were wrong.  We saw tons of people prowling the streets dressed up in costums (even in the airport), and they would go into shops and get a treat; I’m not sure if they went to private homes or not.  I think Halloween was a reason that the hostels were pretty booked, it seemed like a lot of them were having costume parties and the like…maybe next year!

Aside from the change in number of other backpackers, Bogota has brought a tremendous relief in the weather, in fact maybe too much.  I knew from my last visit that it would be pants weather and possibly the occasional fleece, but it’s later in the year and it’s a bit more fall like.  It’s nice, but with plane travel the temperature gradient is perhaps to abrupt.  The fresh, steaming morning coffee does wonders to change the greyness outside; and walking around the Plaza Bolivar in the afternoon you need to start shedding layers…

Today is a feria (holiday), I’m not quite sure which, although I assume it has something to do with the day of the dead or something.  (or perhaps it’s like Boston and they freely give out a random day off here and there for reasons apparent to no one).   It’s nice because on Sundays and holidays they have what is called Ciclovia where they close off about 122km of streets in Bogota and they are only open to bicycle and foot traffic.  It makes for an enjoyable stroll about town.  We hoping to accomplish some shopping today: Elisha needs some contact solition and other odds and ends, as well as wanting to go to an English language bookstore; I need to go to the Canon dealer to buy a new camera.  I forgot to mention that while we were in Puerto Colombia, Venezuela our good camera got some sand in the lens and it quit working.  The electronics seem OK but the lens won’t extend so the screen reads “error, restart camera.”  Dusty went to the store yesterday and bought a camera (he is now on his 3rd camera of the trip), and the photo place said they could look at repairing it if we wanted but since we’re on a time crunch to meet my parents in Macchu Picchu in 25 days, I think we’ll just buy a new camera and have the broken one sent home with them…

Saturday morning we got up and headed off down to our prearranged meeting place with our boat ticket vendor, and along the way we picked up some fruit as we had been told that the food onboard can become kind of monotonous, as well as dimish towards the end of the trip.  We arrived on the boat about 11am and promplty strung up our hammocks with everyone else onboard, maybe about 120 people in all.  (The boat also had cabins, but as well as being expensive seemed to take away some of the romantacism of traveling down the Amazon by boat).  We waited about 2-3 hours before everyone was aboard and the ship finally departed.

Our first day was filled with excitement of the new and unknown, but after that we pretty quicky established a daily routine…  The trip essentially went like this:

We would wake up at 6 am for a breakfast of rolls with cheese and hot coffee.  After that we would have a morning shower then lay in the hammocks and read until lunch was announced around 10:45 am.  After lunch Dusty and I would play a game or two of cribbage and have a few beers.  Then it was off to the hammock for a nap, reading and the afternoon shower.  Dinner was announced around 4:30 pm.  After dinner we would lounge on the upper deck and have a few beers and some rum and coke that we brought with us.  After the first day we started to see the occasional river dolphins, some were pink and looked strangely different from their oceanic cousins, and some were normal grey colored.  We also made several stops atsmall river towns along the way to unload a bunch of supplies; some stops lasted a few hours, some almost the entire day.

Towards the end of the trip the routine varied a bit as we met a Brazilian who we taught how to play cribbage (this was a bit difficult as he spoke no English, and it had to be conducted in our limited Portugese and Spanish).  We also met the other several gringos onboard: an Irish couple, a Russian, and a French couple in their 50’s.

On the sixth morning we arrived at the Brazilian town of Benjamin Constant which was only about 30 minutes from Leticia, Colombia , our destination.  However, the boat was going to be in port all day, so we decided to take a small water-taxi boat into Leticia.

Our day in Leticia amounted to going to Brazilian immigration to get stamped out of the country then off to Mahatu Jungle Hostel, which was quite nice although it sounds like the owner is opening a newer, bigger place in a week.  We then headed off to get some money and then to the airport to get stamped into Colombia, as well as purchase tickets for a flight to Bogota.  Other than a river boat the only way to get out Leticia was to fly.

We arrived in Manaus at about 7am, to the hustle and bustle of morning traffic.  We decided to head to the only actual hostel we knew of Manaus and ended up with quit a shock.  There were backpackers everywhere.  It appeared to us that once again we were back on the gringo trail after having lost it in Venezuela.  We saw more backpackers in this one hostel than we did in all of Venezuela combined (granted the hostel had something like 70 beds).  The only spots available to us were 3 dorm beds.  So we took them.

The sign in the hostel said that the boats leaving down the Amazon River to Leticia, Colombia left every Saturday and Wednesday.  It was Friday so we headed off down to the docks to see what kind of arrangement could be made.  While we didn’t really want to hop right on a boat the next day, we also didn’t feel like sticking around until Wednesday.  It was hot!  But what should we have expected being on the Equator in a town on the Amazon River?  After checking out a few vendors we settled on a guy that actually took us out to see the boat we would be on (all the vendors sell tickets at the same price for the same boat; only one boat departs each departure day).  He then helped buy hammocks for the boat ride, as these are what we would be sleeping in for the5-6 nights on the boat.  After arranging the boat passage we headed back to the hostel for a rest.

Later that afternoon we decided to take a stroll around Manaus.  Manaus has some pretty nice architectural relics, as it was once one of the richest cities in the world due to it being the sole exporter of natural rubber (before smeone snuck some rubber tree seeds to SouthEast Asia where they were able to start plantations).  The main site being the huge Teatro Amazonas near the city center.

Yesterday, without any hassle, we picked up our 1-year, multiple entry visa for Brazil, then we really didn’t do too much other than rest.  Today we headed into our third country of the trip.

We hired a cab to take to “La Linea,” the border between Venezuela and Brazil.  He got us the the Venezuelan side where he waited for us to check go through customs and immigration.  While this border may be rife with smuggling and other illicit activities, apparently Venezuela isn’t all that concerned with what leaves.  In customs the guy looked at our passports and then asked me to open up my backpack so he could look through it.  I guess it’s just a ploy to see what people do (I suppose if you’re smuggling something you may hesitate?), because no sooner than I had my bag opened did he tell me to close it and move on.  Next we proceeded across the road to Venezuelan immigration where we waited in line and we stampedout of the country without a question asked.  Now, off to Brazil!

We piled back in our cab and he drove us across the no man’s land that appears between two countries.  The car queued up in line and a customs officer had the driver pop the trunk and he gave the backpacks a cursorary look.  Apparently Brazilisn’t all that concerned with the smuggling either…  Once that was overour cab pulled over and let us out to wait to get our entry stamps.  This proved to be a long process, and I’m not really sure why, other than it was pretty busy.  After 20 minutes or so our driver told he wouldn’t wait any longer unless we payed him more money (we foolishly paid him when we arrived at the Venezuelan side of things as we didn’t realize it was some distance between the border points).  As it was just a short walk from Brazilian immigration to the buses we grabbed our bags and continued waiting.  Eventually we got in and recieved 20 days in Brazil.

Out of immigration we made our way to a bank to get our hands on some Reais (Brazilian currency).  Then, as we were walking towards the bus station we passed a taxi stand where they offered to drive us in a minivan (it looked almost new), all the way to Boa Vista (our next destition from where we could catch an overnight bus to Manaus) for the same price as a bus.  After some debate, we weren’t sure if it was legit or not, we decided to take the taxi.  It turned out to be a rather nice, comfortable ride, and in considerably shorter time than the bus would’ve taken.  He dropped us off right at the bus terminal.

In Boa Vista we bought our bus tickets and then proceeded to wait about 4-5 hours for our bus (which ended up arriving about an hour late).  And thus we were travelling in Brazil.