Adventures and Mishaps in the Jungle

When going on adventures, occasionally one of the ingredients to an adventure is mishap and things going differently as planned. Mary and I recently had such an adventure.

I closed my last blog by writing that we were about to embark into the Amazon to work on a small farm. We had found the opportunity on a website where people can post the need for volunteers, whether it be helping out on a farm, in a hostel, school, or other service project. We contacted a farm in the Amazon that sounded like it could potentially be a perfect experience for us. After a handful of emails back and forth, we got the green light from the man at the farm to come on out. So from Lima, we took an overnight bus across the Andes to a town called La Merced. We then found transport to the farm on the back of a pick-up truck for a bumpy 6-hour drive along dirt roads through the jungle. We made friends with the few other Peruvian travelers in the back of the truck, had great views, and banged up our bodies badly from the bumpy road. By the time we arrived at our destination, we were covered in dirt from the dusty drive!

We found the farm, so I walked up to the house to introduce myself. The only person home was a somewhat elderly lady who spoke no English. In Spanish, I explained who we were and that we had been invited by her husband to work on the farm, but she responded by saying that we had actually been talking to her son, who is out of the country. She was very sorry to inform us that her husband was in Lima at the time, and she was quite ill and would not be able to host us at her farm. At first, I felt not only disappointed but lost because we had driven so far and were nowhere near any major town/city and did not have a clue what Plan B would be! But within seconds of finding out this bad news, our helpful driver said he would drive us into the nearest town, set us up with a place to stay, and maybe we could find some work there. Despite my disappointment, I trusted we’d be taken care of and things would work out in some way.

So we boarded that pick-up truck and drove another 20 minutes into the small town of Puerto Bermudez. Our driver pulled up to a hostel (the only nice-looking building in the town) run by a Basque Spaniard. I think our driver figured that since we’re gringos, and the Spaniard is a gringo, we’d get on just fine. And he was right, we did get on just fine. The man had a room for us at his beautiful hostel surrounded by a gorgeous garden. This Spaniard introduced himself as Jesus (pronounced the Spanish way, “hay-soos), and further explained that he is the “son of God”. That was comforting to know we  were so close to the Lord! I would say he is in his late 50’s, but a lifetime of heavy smoking and poor dental care has caused his skin to look weathered and his teeth to fall out, being replaced by dentures that can’t seem to sit still. He wore the same dirty outfit the entire three days we were there and always had a cigarette in his hand. My first impression of this man was that he appeared one step above homeless and crazy. Instead, he turned out to be only slightly crazy, but also intelligent, worldly, and played a constant soundtrack of great music. He turned out to be quite helpful, and we were so grateful that this tiny, insignificant town had this oasis of a hostel.

We explored the small town only to find that there is really nothing to do. We swam in the river and saw many people drive by on small motorized canoes and boys floating down-river hanging onto large logs. We met two drunk men who wanted to talk and talk and talk but seemingly about the same things but of course they really needed to tell us these things. One of those men took us back to his home to meet his wife, dog, and 50 chickens. I think he wanted to bring us to his work (he’s an architect) 2 days later, but with our broken Spanish we weren’t too sure, and we didn’t take him up on the offer. Later that day, we were surprised to see a white, blonde boy playing with other Peruvians. In a small town in the Amazon, we thought we were the only gringos there, judging by the way people stared at us everywhere we went. We then walked into a restaurant to find a young, white lady working there. We asked her her story and she explained that she’s Ukranian and she’s married to a Peruvian man. She and her son (the blonde boy) moved to Peru a year and a half ago when she married her husband. When we asked how they met, she said it was complicated, but that God brought them together. At first I was suspecting she might have been a mail-order bride, but after getting to know her and her husband better, it really didn’t appear that way. They might be the only two English speakers in the whole town, and they ended up being quite helpful for us. I think all four of us were happy to be speaking English in that town!

Our Spaniard host informed us that a group of guests at the hostel would  be driving back towards La Merced and we could hitch a ride in the back of one of their pick-up trucks. It was free, so we accepted the offer. So they loaded us into the back of a truck with our bags and lots of miscellaneous items. It wasn’t terribly comfortable, but it was free. Then they were driving the dirt roads so fast that I was getting car sick. I took out my sleeping bag and lied down as best as I could. The night sky was beautiful, and the air felt so nice. Then clouds rolled in. And within 20 minutes of the drive, we felt tiny wet drops falling on us. I pulled my sleeping bag over my head and thought it’d be fine, the rain out here doesn’t seem to last long, so it’ll pass soon enough. Only it didn’t pass. It just kept raining, and it rained harder, and soon I felt small trickles of water seeping through my sleeping bag and run down my body. And soon my whole body was soaked! But the trucks kept driving through the rain for another 2 hours. At one point there was a small break in the rain when Mary and I pulled our heads from out of our sleeping bags to laugh/complain about the miserable situation we were in. We decided to play the “cheers game”, in which we take turns saying something we’re grateful for. This kept our spirits up until the rain started back up and we retreated back inside our sopping wet sleeping bags.

Eventually the trucks stopped and we heard men getting out of the vehicles. We poked our heads out and saw a dark, run-down, wooden building on the side of the road, but nothing else nearby. One of the men told us it was a hotel. So we leaped out of that truck, grabbed our bags, and decided we’d had enough of that drive! The men started banging on the door for a few minutes until a lady opened up and let us in. She had a small restaurant on the first floor and hotel rooms on the 2^nd floor. After a lot of confusion and chaos, Mary and I were able to get a room. It was only $3! And of course, we got what we paid for. The upstairs of this building looked like the loft of a barn with small rooms built in. Our room was big enough only for a twin-sized bed and floor space for our bags. There were no lights (thank God we had a flashlight!), and the bare-wooden walls looked like they could rot away in the near future. This hotel and location seemed perfect for a Wes Craven horror film, and I wouldn’t have been surprised to wake up to the sound of a chainsaw cutting through our door by Leatherface. Luckily no massacres occurred in the night, and we didn’t find any creatures sleeping with us. But we were woken up at 6am to the sound of a man walking down the hall banging on everyone’s door yelling “Vamos!” Even $3 hotels have a wake-up service!

By the time we stumbled out of our room and downstairs to the restaurant, all of the other guests had already left and we found only the woman who owned the place. It was still raining outside. We asked her for some breakfast and sat watching the rain, grateful to be dry. Occasionally we would see students walking down the muddy road to school or individuals waiting to be picked up by a car, and although they would be soaked from head to toe, they didn’t not seem to mind. I guess that’s part of living in a rain forest. After an hour of waiting around, we found a bus going our direction, and they had two empty seats for us. It was cramped, but we were dry and our bodies were not being banged up from the bumpy road, so it felt like luxury!

We arrived back in La Merced later that day. At an internet café, we found out that a horse ranch in Northern Peru had invited us to spend a few weeks working there, so we finally had a plan and a destination! And the best part about it is that this ranch is in the desert. NO RAIN! So we took an overnight bus to Lima, and then another bus up to Trujillo where we are now. The horse ranch is another few hours North of here, but we decided to spend two nights here on the coast at a surf hostel to relax and hang out on the beach before we get to work.

So the last handful of days were rough at times, with disappointment, bumpy/wet truck rides, and scary hotels. But we survived, and are only stronger now because of it. And we can laugh about it now. We are excited about this ranch, but are going into it with no expectations after being let down from the last farm. But if it works out, it will be great to be working and feeling productive and to stay put in one spot for longer than 3 days! Buses in Peru are not comfortable or reliable, but rather are exhausting and taxing on your body and spirit (at least the cheap buses we ride are!). So I will be happy to not be on another bus for several days, or maybe even a few weeks!