Brazil Stop 2: Jungle Walk (a LONG post, bring snacks)

As our plane descended into Manaus, I looked for any sign of city life. But all I could see were miles and miles of dense foliage and muddy rivers, as far as the eye could see. Parked along side the runway were three beat-up & tattered planes with old, metal parts scattered upon the ground. It was such a peculiar sight, and yet it seemed to welcome me, as if to say, it's time to get a little dirty. It's time to breathe in a little deeper and live a little freer. And yes, that is exactly what I did in the Amazon. It was pure, unadulterated freedom.
We loaded our bags onto a boat that would take us 2.5 hours up the river to our secluded jungle lodge. And no, I was not complaining about being rocked by gentle breezes in my hammock. On board with me was a Hungarian couple and an 18-year old, native tour-guide who had been sent from the lodge to retrieve us.

As the Hungarians busted open the Vodka to celebrate (I had to kindly decline their offer several times), I enjoyed talking with the guide. We taught each other new vocabulary from our respective languages and I learned about how life really is in this area of the world.

As our boat approached the "Ariu Towers," I honestly felt as if I had entered the middle of nowhere.

From the distance, we could see an array of circular, wooden structures that were raised up high in the trees, supported by beams. It was like out of a story book.

As we carried our things in, I was taken back by the beauty of the green landscape around me.

I was also caught off guard by the golf carts, used to transfer luggage from the boats. Just when I thought I had entered the wilderness, I was reminded that this was still, very much, a hotel.

Yep, the lady they hired to dress like a native and adorn us with beaded jewelry was also a dead give away. But hey, it was still a nice gesture.

I was thrilled to spot my first Macaw parrot, who had flown over to perch on one of many feeders.

And I was equally thrilled when I spotted a monkey running along the window-sill in the lobby. I couldn't wait to go discover where all his other monkey companions were hanging out.

What made this place incredible were the expansive wooden walkways. Raised high above the ground, these rickety mazes let you walk, quite literally, in the tree-tops. It was magical. As it was approaching sunset, I set out to explore...and find monkeys.

I spotted several of them playing in the trees and perched on ledges--not a single one willing to hold still for the camera. But I was perfectly content to sit back and watch them simply be monkeys.

As I continued my walk, I spotted a tall wooden tower with what looked like stairs that I could climb....sort of.

This intrigued the heck out of me because I love discovering the "undiscovered," locating hidden treasures and secret hideaways, and taking in ANYTHING with a view. I've realized that I simply love to climb things, (buildings, mountains, ladders, you name it) and then bask in the view from on top. I guess it's just my thing. So how perfect that I found a tower to climb. And since there was no WARNING sign or yellow tape strung across the edifice, I climbed.

As I climbed, I tried not to listen to the screeching wood or look down between the gaping cracks in the floor boards. When I reached the top, I wondered if I was even allowed up here. According to the sign above, this was part of the "Amazon River Project" (whatever the heck that is) and one is not supposed to "touch." Touch what?? The tower? Too late for that I guess.

Once on top, I felt like I had been transported to another world (and although I haven't quite mastered the art of taking flattering pictures of myself, I gave it my best shot).

I stood still and watched every last drop of sun go down...

staring at the expansive canopy of trees around me and wondering what kind of wonderful creatures were hiding beneath it all. And then, since I had my ipod on me (when do I not?), I busted out The Mission soundtrack to set the moment to music. It felt so cheezy, and yet so right.

When it was dark, I slowly made my way down the tower and back to home base. There was a wonderful spread for dinner, and I met up with a nice group of travellers--including a couple from DC who live just a few minutes from my house.

After dinner, it was time to play with the monkeys. Although they look innocent enough, if you go near them with food in you hands, it's all over.

As I stood munching on a piece of bread, I suddenly felt something jump onto my leg. I looked down and there was a monkey clinging to me. My instinct was to scream and start turning around in circles to fling it off. This of course made the monkey even more excited. He climbed up my shirt, onto my arm, and snatched the bread right out of my hands. Nasty little monkey.

If you've got cash to blow, you can complete your Amazon experience by staying the night in one of these super authentic suites with the thatched doors. Just thought I'd pass that along.

My room was very basic and very wooden. But I did have a small balcony that opened up to the trees. And although I was caged in by a fence, I enjoyed leaving the door open so that I could fall asleep to the sound of all things natural.

I was up bright and early. I wanted to make sure I got to eat all the different varieties of bananas that were on display (fried, cooked, baked, grilled, and smashed into pudding).

Running high on good carbohydrates, it was time to take a jungle hike with our two native tour guides. We took a small, motorized boat down the river to begin the mini trek--with swarms of white birds following at our side.

Our group consisted of 2 Russians, 2 Swiss, and myself. And then there was Ramirez. The Guide of all Guides--totally macho, purely Amazon-bred, completely "one" with the jungle. And I loved that he carried an assortment of knives in his pants.

Besides pointing our eyes in the direction of wonderful hidden beauties,

Ramirez and his boy side-kick taught us a variety of invaluable lessons about jungle survival.

For starters, we learned how to make blow-guns from sharp spears found on the local trees.

We were taught how to make fire from palms,

and how to extract "special" milk from the trees. When mixed with eggs, you get a wonderful steroid-like drink that people use here to beef up. But hey, it's all natural!

We saw trees that are used to make perfume,

and learned how to extract and eat larvae.

And most importantly, we memorized the three rules of what to NEVER ingest in the jungle. All things: 1. Hairy; 2. Acidic; and 3. Milky. Yeah, I didn't really get it either.

Finally, we called out bats from this tree and made crowns from palm leaves to adorn our heads.

I was so hot and sticky upon my return to the lodge, that I had to strip off all my clothes and lay like a lifeless creature on my bed to cool off. But not for too long...

I had spotted this little fellow around the lodge a few times before and wanted to see if he would pay any attention to me. So I waited until he flew down onto this ledge.

Being the "bird person" that I am, having grown up with three in my house, I figured that I would have a real knack for making friends with this little guy. I went over to talk to him,

and the little runt took it personally. He started charging after me with his beak wide open, out for the kill. Maybe he thought I was another parrot. After all, we were dressed alike in our blue an yellow attire. So much for being sweet.

The monkeys were much more willing to socialize and be affectionate.

The last part of my Amazon adventure took place one afternoon in the pouring rain. Since no one was willing to forgo our trip to visit the "native family," we decided to brave the elements. This time, I went with a boat full of Koreans an hour up the river. We were pelted by heavy rain and tossed around by the agitated water. The best part was that I was with a boat full of Koreans.

I did as they did, and sported the "Capo de Chuva." I was so grateful to have a big piece of plastic covering me.

OK. So I'll admit that I was a little skeptical of this so-called "native" family. I mean, how native could they really be--especially having tourists like me come to visit their "village" on a daily basis? I bet they were paid to be native.

Well, they definitely were native, but in an unconventional way. They lived completely off the land, rarely left their secluded village, and gave birth to 14 of their 15 children right there with no doctors. So I'll give them partial credit for that. But was that a bottle of Palmolive dishwashing soap I saw hidden on the shelf?

I enjoyed watching them make "tapioca" on the hot, open hearth and seeing how they grind their own tapioca flour from this medieval-looking contraption.

We saw how they worked the land using slash-and-burn agricultural methods. I observed their pots of herbs and plants used for medicinal purposes, and discovered that crushing and extracting the juice from pineapple leaves induces labor in pregnant women.

On our way back when the rain let up, our boat full of Koreans stopped to go pirahna fishing. Piranhas are plentiful in these waters, and come in various colors and sizes. So after a brief lesson, I gave it a whirl.

I felt a little wimpy with my catch of the day and a little guilty for taking its life. But I did taste the fruit of our labors at dinner--and frankly, it wasn't so tasty.

The night before I left, I took a boat out to go Kayman spotting along the river. Kayman are crocodile-like animals, but are generally smaller. With a large flashlight in hand, the guides partnered up to scope out the shoreline in search of these critters. And then came the highlight of the night; one guide jumped into the bushes to pull THIS out with his bare hands...

and bring it onto our boat.

This is officially the definition of "Hard Core."

The guide secured the creature in his hands, clamping down on its neck and jaw, and placing it in a trance of sorts. We observed it, touched it, and learned everything you could ever hope to learn about this species.

It felt surreal to touch something so completely fresh from the wild.

And then we let it sink back down into its dark, watery home. On our way back to the lodge, we learned how to spot the Kayman for ourselves. When you flash a light in their direction, you will see the reflection of their orange, iridescent eyes shining back at you. You wouldn't believe how many of these glowing, orange balls I saw peering out from under dark bushes and lurking right beneath the water's surface. And I was glad I didn't know, up until that point.

And finally, we stopped our boat in the middle of the river, turned off the motor, and sat in the still of the night. We listened to the sound of the river, trees, and sky. The silence was completely deafening. We just don't realize it until we shut up and listen.

It's good to take time to be still. It's good to take time to reflect. To remember. To see and not just look. To explore our environment and ourselves. To find the view and love it. In the jungle, or wherever it happens to be-- yes, profound, I know.

First Stop: Blessed Little Rio de Janeiro

Oh Rio, Rio, Rio. Did I already bless your little heart? I believe I did. You caught my attention in ways that I never expected, and in all the ways that I did... I really don't know how to put my finger on it.. You're a "city's city," fit for high-rollers, divas, and leather-skinned beach bums alike. And yet you are a testament to the stark reality of urban poverty. Your "favelas" sweep the steep hillsides; mere shadows by day and masses of barely-flickering lamp lights by night. If I had my way, I'd spend all my days up there... finding the real beauty of the city. But alas, you whisked me away to join the ranks of crowds and tourists alike.

On my first day in Brazil, before I could even set my bags down or use the bathroom, I was transported off to see my first attraction: Sugar Loaf mountain (Pao de Acucar). It's all a strange and wonderful blurr.

I didn't even try to blend in. I was a hopeless case. My Ben and Jerry's t-shirt, "missionary bag," and fancy gym pants were dead give aways. Except I did have ONE thing working for me--I spoke their language. And "they"couldn't, for the life of them, put the pieces together and figure out what the heck I was. So I, of course, relished the opportunity to talk to everyone.

Making it to the top of Sugar Loaf allowed me to bask in some wonderful views of the city. You can't tell by the picture (or maybe you can), but I was fighting to keep my eyes open due to: a) excessive wind gusts from on top; b) no sleep; and c) an over-dose of allergy medication. But hey, I'm used to the latter two.

My half-day city tour was also topped off with a visit to the famous Maracana football stadium (aka-soccer stadium).

Home of the 2014 World Cup.

But the longest day of my life doesn't end there my friends. I was somehow scheduled to see a LATE night Samba show with dinner at a 5-star restaurant (yeah, go figure). With no time to wipe my brow, I was whisked off, still dressed in the sweaty Ben and Jerry's outfit. So let me paint the picture for you: a room full of fancy-pants schmucks; me seated alone at the very center table; I look like a homeless person; with 1.5 hours to kill, alone, eating endless helpings of skewered meat. I felt like a circus animal, the feature attraction, a spectacle of sorts.

I must have looked as awkward as I felt, so a South African couple finally bit the bullet and invited me over to eat with them. Kind, kind souls.

I laughed the night away with my new, white, South-African farmer / Christian fundamentalist friends....taking turns covering each others' eyes when the Samba show turned into Brazilian pole dancing.

Although I only slept a few hours that night, it was the best sleep I'd had in months.

The next few days were spent doing an array of activities such as ascending "Corcovado" (meaning "hunchback," like the shape of the mountain) to see the famous "Cristo Redentor" statue (Christ the Redeemer).

Our van kindly let us stop along the way to take in different vantage points of the city.

Once on top of Corcovado, the panoramic views were incredible, and I finally internalized the expansive nature of this city (the second largest in Brazil).

I had always been intrigued by this statue. I had seen it in postcards and books, and loved the idea of having a huge, Christ-figure symbolically watching over and welcoming the people below. Unfortunately, the massive crowds of tourists seemed to take away from my moment in the sun.

But I did make some interesting conclusions about travel. Although I don't do well in overcrowded areas--I'd much rather sit on a log, talk to the local crowd, and eat raw corn than spend the day being carted around in an air-conditioned van with a tour guide speaking to me in Spanish-- sometimes it's the only (and most practical) way to see what you came to see! So it's best to suck it up and go with the flow.

But don't get me wrong. I also savored the time I had to explore trendy neighborhood streets and get an exceptional retail experience in the process.

Three Reasons Why I Really Love Rio:

a) The Shoes --did you know Brazil is a top, worldwide producer of shoes? More shoe stores than I could have ever bargained for.

I was like a kid in a candy store.

b)"Build your own Bikini" --stores on every corner.

What a great concept.

c) Bolo de Bolacha--

I rekindled an old flame with these inspired culinary creations that I first discovered in Portugal. What's not to love about layers of sweet cream slathered between moistened cookie pieces?

My last day in Rio was spent taking a tropical-islands boat tour. Me and a van full of 4 Austrians, 2 Ecuadorians, and a cool dude named "Mike," drove an hour or so outside of the city to our jumping-off point.

A quaint, rustic, and colorful town nestled at the foot the mountains. It was wonderful to get a breath of fresh air and take in the smell of reality.

The scenery was beautiful. We stopped our boat to take a dip in the water along side the sparsely-populated beaches.

Too bad for me, I didn't think to bring my swimming suit along. My Italian-American-German-Brazilian friend, Mike, encouraged me to just go in my underwear. He even brought out an extra change of clothes for me. Hey, normally I'd jump on the idea of doing as the locals.

But if you are affiliated in any way with the Mormon church, you might understand that it wasn't going to be so easy (or socially acceptable) for me to go swimming in my underwear. So I perched myself on the side of the boat and soaked up some more rays.

Sadly, still fully clothed.

Many of these tropical islands are for sale. Point noted--I'm always on the lookout for unique real estate, for when I'm filthy rich someday.

We stopped our boat for lunch on one of the islands where a tiny restaurant had prepared an authentic spread for our hungry group. I enjoyed several helpings of fresh coconut pudding and then explored the environs of this little haven.

Where I met my pal, Chiquita, among others.

Although I thoroughly enjoyed the day and the friends I met, I did realize that boats are most definitely not my preferred form of tourism. I usually get my fill 10 or 15 minutes into the ride and then, I'm stuck--wishing I could jump ship.

Before my 6am flight out the next morning, I took a few moments to climb to the roof of my hotel, and do what I do best: sit, meditate, and let the view seep its way into me.

Unconventionally picturesque and definitely a real taste of this place.

I finally dragged myself down from the roof, snapped myself out of the tranquil alternate universe I had entered, and got geared up for the next leg of my journey.... the Amazon. Stay tuned!