Escape from Iquitos,..(literally)

Sometimes traveling to special or exotic places means getting needing to get through some that aren’t so much. Many larger cities require stop throughs in order to get to the ultimate destination. To me anyway, Iquitos is one of those gateways. I am sure there is beauty, grace and elegance that can be found just about anywhere in this world if we look in the right places. To be fair I have only been to Iquitos twice; once in the dry season and now in the wet season. My experiences here are simply mine, however they are genuine of course and come from an honest yet western perspective.  To properly set the stage for the insanity just to get to the airport and ultimately my flight back to Lima, a description for those who do not know this place is necessary and the mindset of the people who run this place. The fact that the tributary that feeds this beautiful river that eventually empties all the way to the Atlantic Ocean of the other side of Brasil is depressing to say the least. It runs directly through the famous or infamous south eastern barrio, Belen (little Bethlehem) where every vile piece of garbage, including human and animal waste, plastic bottles and every other conceivable piece of trash floats out and down river as if was a giant toilet being constantly flushed. Case in point: when I asked  how the kids can swim in the water, brush their teeth in it, swallow it, the response I got was ” no problemo, the water just takes it all away. It was simple as that and said a self satisfying smile assuring me it was all Okay. There was no consideration to where this vile waste of every imaginable description goes. I’m not even convinced there is ever a second thought by most here. Even hours down river evidence of the plastic bottles can be found everywhere. The amazon is so big, deep and wide that it will eventually disperse it to a point if you go far enough down river; it’s aesthetic beauty remains in tact. So coming out of those areas back to Iquitos can be a tough challenge for some one like me, who cringes at the prospects of loosing such important raw wild places like this to urbanization and lack of respect for the resources and gifts that are literally being pissed all over daily. Iquitos is a stark contrast to the utter peace, quiet and non chaotic temperate balance of the jungle. It’s a tough place to assimilate back to the World after such an experience, but before I detour completely away from the purpose of this article a focus on the temperament of it people is necessary starting it’s elected officials, who are mostly corrupt and are responsible more crime than protecting against it.  When asking an ex-pat, Gerald Mayeaux who publishes the only bilingual monthly publication here,(The Amazon News),he elaborated on an event I had no idea was about to happen and find myself in the middle of. He even published a carton of a woman and a their fighting over her purse in a tug o war. Originally there was a police officer completely ignoring the incident. Gerald toned it down a but to exclude the office and add the wild, wild west slogan with a clear warning to travelers and locals alike; “open your third eye!!! See all around you to avoid risk!!!” Basically that sums up this city, unfortunately. There are a large group of construction workers here who are supported by buddies in the local government and police who are nothing more than common thugs who will seize any opportunity to pray on the weaker, unsuspecting and more benign crowd that lives here as well as tourist with their guard down. Just like the gangs back home in the States, they recruit and embolden the youngest of the boys also to prove themselves in the usual machismo to run the streets like wild dogs. The idea of a mob mentality is triggered here in an instant and can easily get out of hand. Until breakfast, the day before my flight to Lima I had no idea that the very thing I have been describing was about to erupt in a planned 48 hour “protest” which goal is to shut down every store, resource, bank, gas station and airport. A few days with out business as usual is about all it takes to shut down the city and cripple it financially for a while. This along with the blatant disorder which leaves car windows smashed and the streets ablaze with fires on each intersection is an attempt to intimidate through lawless anarchy. It’s also an excuse to many to get drunk and run the streets and further disregard the limited laws that would normally otherwise protect visitors against such disarray. Another words, it’s party time and maybe a time to et free stuff thats not secured down well enough. We’ve seen it right here in Los Angeles; why not there? Being here in the low season is wonderful as there are very few tourist compared to the dryer months. However for every plus there is a minus; and this one revolved on my ability to blend in. A 6’3” 215 lbs gringo here can not blend in, no matter two hard I try. So when the sun slipped behind the horizon and darkness crept across the streets with enlogated shadows, it was time for me to get inside. I was invited to stay with one of the locals here and his place had extra security for he and his family and I was grateful for that. Right about midnight I could hear people clamoring around out on the streets. This would be followed up by random yells, other loud noises and even a few small explosions. By 2:30 am I had to take a peak, but the bars in the from room only allowed me to look directly straight into the street in front. There was no way I was going to undo the 2 x 4 plank which secured the large metal door from the inside and venture out for a better look and open myself and this family to any insanity outside that wanted in. So I went back to bed and listened to the noise hoping the louder they got, the more drunk they were and ultimately the heavier they would sleep in the morning, which hopefully was an opportunity for me and my driver to scramble for the airport. My host, Guido told me there would be no taxis as they did not want to risk broken windows or worse. As for the motorbikes or 3 wheeled tuk-tuks, the fear was branches or broom handles being shoved in between spokes from other cars or motorcycles who obviously were out to sweep the streets and ensure no one gets in or out of town. He had a friend who would help me out but not with out a lot of hesitation. So I offered quadruple what a normal taxi to the airport which he accepted. At first I thought this was a scam, but it only took a few minutes into the ride to see that it was anything but. Many out there had flat tires from all the glass and our tuk-tuk kept throwing its chain. It was easy to feel very vulnerable sitting there with my two bags full of camera gear while he scrambled as fast as possible to reengage the chain and speed off again before anyone took notice. As we approached the airport after about 25 minutes of weaving in and out of glass, trash, tree branches and cinder blocks I could not have been happier to see the entrance for the airport. I knew if something happened here I could at least make a break for it and take my chances on foot. In fact, thats about what happened. There was a group of angry people at the gate along side airport police who informed my driver he could not go in. I jumped out and explained to the officer my flight was flying today and after a few minutes of him talking to my driver and another cop allowed me to pass on foot and carry my bags into the terminal area. It was sweltering and each step produced streams of sweat but I did not care as each step into the basically abandoned airport was one more step away from this place and closer to my friends waiting in Lima for me. I always keep one set of clean clothes for occasions just like this. After changing and washing up and holding an actual ticket in my hand was one of he best feelings I could imagine. As I recounted the nights and this days events, I struggled between the idea that I missed some more of this story by not going out and witnessing it with my own eyes and the fact that I had enough understanding of this place to know that would not have ended up well for me or anyone around me. Maybe just reading about the Swiss Associated Press photographer (Anja Niedringhaus) who was just killed by a member of her own security team (the unit commander) while on the way to cover the elections there helped me. A week later I reflect back and am thankful I did not risk more than necessary and count my blessings I never was cornered or directly threatened. Iquitos is no Afghanistan or any other place like it, for sure. But the point here is some of these remote places are no joke either. Especially where extreme poverty and corrupt politics and police services all are intertwined. I still struggle with the idea of random acts of violence which can erupt anywhere in an instant at the drop of a hat. Do your homework and always have a plan B and understand that our rules don’t apply abroad. Never mind bullets, one brick, rock or bottle can change everything; and even end a life with out warning. The cartoon in the local newspaper nailed it telling everyone to keep you heads up and on a swivel. Loose the smart phone and take off the head phones for a while and get an idea of the place you are exploring and understand the pulse of the people around you. It just may save your trip and possibly your life.

A Gringo’s guide to Ayahuasca. Ist Day in the Amazon

The gringos guide to Ayahuasca and what NOT to do…. Day one in the amazon

When a leave falls in the amazon, it makes itself heard and always seems to land with a thud!..When a branch falls, thats a completely different story; look the fuck out! One minute after getting out of the dugout canoe to head for camp, an explosion sent everyone scattering. In an instant we were all instantly bonded. No more quiet and uncomfortable stares followed with a more uncomfortable smiles. A massive section ( to large to call a branch ) of a tree came blasting down from high above snapping every branch from adjacent trees down as if they were made of balsa-wood. When it landed all 3 of us ended in on each side of it, all catching our collective breaths. Each instinctively jumped right back up, brushing off the jungle floor and the host of ants off our collective pants and shirts.

This time the smiles were heartfelt and there was a moment of brotherhood that no language barrier could break. We were all happy to still be here; here in the Amazon; especially me as it was my first time. 

When I initially agreed to visit the local shaman for an Ayahuasca ceremony, I had no idea it was going to be on my very first night. With no sleep for two straight nights, all I wanted to do was crash as soon as the sun went down..after a nice lunch of pollo con arroz ( free range; no GMO Monsanto shit) , I got a tap on the shoulder. My guide said I was in luck as the shaman ( a woman no less) was going to come to our camp for me at 9 o’clock to guide me through the ceremony. I didn’t know that earlier today as it was already decided and I had no way of telling anyone here with out insulting them I was not up for this and just wanted to sleep. I could have sworn I read somewhere one needed to fast for a day before as we’ll, but the out of place gringo trying to be “in place” smiled and said ok.. I quickly found a hammock to grab a quick siesta. A little cafe and another gentle tap on the shoulder awoke me from a place I really wanted to stay. As she smiled and all the wrinkles in her face created a wild mosaic of scripted life written across her face and friendly but piecing eyes told me it was time. Oh boy, here we go! But where we were going, I had absolutely no idea.

My guide was to be by my side to translate, very loosely of course for her.  I was thankful for that as I knew theses ceremonies can take quite some time. 

I had brought a few docs describing what to expect and thought I would take the next day to read them and to mentally brace myself for what to expect. Not happening amigo!  Not this night anyway. I was silently beating my self up at all the opportunities to read about it on several plane flights, boats, etc. But I tried to clear my head and be willing to keep as open a mind as possible.

So like everything in my life I just see a cliff and jump right off. We’re I land will be, where I land I guess. I do it with just about everything in life. Directions, instructions, rules and diligent preparation is for pussy’s, and maybe a few extra alive people in the world, I guess. 

She laid down some fan like bunch of dried leaves in front of me tied together. Then she pulled out a bottle of purplish liquid and poured into a cup for me. Do I sip it or chug it? 

I was instructed to just down it in one gulp. When I felt that bitter ensemble of (kind of like sour berries and woodchips ) slide down my throat, I cringed a bit as the taste was not my cup of tea. I was hoping that was the last time I was going to taste it. But then she then slid a plastic bucket in front of me.

What is that for? My guide told me to vomit in. Greeeaat!!!

If there is one thing in life I really hate, it’s barfing. I will do almost anything not to throw up and only rely on it as a absolute last resort to ease the pain threshold that takes me over the edge. 

The sun is now completely down and its a moonless night. The flashlight now is turned off and she lit some tobacco and blew into towards me while humming a song that just repeated itself over and over. It was pitch dark and I could only see the lit end of her tobacco glowing in utter blackness. When she drew it to her face I could make out the faint lines in her face, but I had to really focus to see anything at all. (I did sneak one photo of her as she did this, hoping not to ruin any of the atmosphere.)

 We were in an enclosed area that was a big room with  four walls that were basically nothing but screens . The jungle around me came alive with all the night noises that one hears and imagines the absolute worst.  But not bugs, snakes or anything would find there way in here and. I continued to remind myself of that. 

After and hour or her chanting and humming that same song, I was not feeling anything noticeable, but my head became light and the nausea began to set in. At first it was not too bad, but the bitter taste of the Ayahuasca still remained in my mouth and it tasted absolutely horrible. She continued her melodic song and lit more tobacco. At first I was sitting cross legged on the flat pillow she brought with her, but now in the pitch dark with no one able to see me either, I crunched my knees tightly into my chest and wrapped my armies around them and made a spot for my head to lay. I was so damned tired and had no idea how long this would last. I kept trying to tell my mind to focus on the present and not drift into the future where my bed ultimately awaited my 

dead tired body.

The frogs continued to croak out side as if they were sitting on my head and the howler monkeys in the back ground added their distant screams into the musical ensemble chorused with her humming. 

My head felt lighter and the noises grew louder and the nausea became very pronounced.  My mind once again naturally drifted back to a place to sleep and all I really wanted to close my eyes for good. I was so tired and if I  knew it would not have insulted her, I would have asked to leave. 

My guide asked me if I felt “drunk” yet. I said no, just nauseous a bit and maybe slightly dizzy. I tried to lighten it up by saying I missed the drunk feeling and am headed straight for the hangover.No reply. Just the pitch dark, with a small glowing red ember moving about from her mouth to a resting position. Evidently I was not there. But I had no idea where I should have been.

Another 45 minutes of pitch darkness, sleep deprivation and every imaginable sound a jungle can make was descending down on me like a bad dream. The dream got worse as my belly began to turn and I began to feel around in the blackness for the bucket she laid before me about 2 hours earlier. I began to sweat profusely and the heat began to get to me.

Oh shit, no holding back now. I had to let go and unhinge the torment that was raging in my belly. What the hell did I drink?

Not the question you ask after you drink something from a woman who walks out of a jungle and says here, drink this, right? This is when the race to unscramble my brain to make sense of this as I vomit violently into this bucket. 

I think of my guide who in an attempt to endear myself to him, bought him beer and even an ice cream back in Iquitos earlier that day. He seemed like a really nice guy and I believed he liked me as we’ll. He s right there. He won’t let anything happen to me and he is not drinking it. I am protected, right?

That’s what I kept telling myself. I also reminded myself of how gentle this shaman was whence first met and the warm smile and gentle touch on my shoulder when it was time to begin.

Finally the barfing stopped.

My guide handed me a cloth to wipe my face with and suddenly the sweating stopped. As I began to cool off, I was asked again if i was feeling anything. 

The next day I found out was that this was a hallucinogen and when they were asking me if I felt drunk, it was really if I was seeing anything.

But I took them literally and kept telling them, I did not feel drunk. The weird part was that I remember feeling almost embarrassed that I was not feeling what I felt they wanted me to feel. I tied to, but to no avail.

After another 30 or so minutes, the shaman came over to me and placed her hand on my head and chanted some more. I followed the little red glow of the tobacco in the pitch dark as she waved that fan in my face while she hummed once again. She then opened my shirt front the back of my neck and blew smoke down my spine and followed it with her hand and then did the same to the front, chanting all the while.

Rather than just let go, I caught myself trying to analyze everything and almost treat it like a science experiment. And I wanted so bad at this point to have what ever was to happen to just happen.

With the sensory deprivation and the sounds of the Amazon on top of me and a true shaman throwing her best stuff at me, I was confused by what I was imagining and what I wanted to happen.

But to tell the absolute truth, I just felt sick. I felt sicker when I began to realize that this may ruin my next 5 days here.

What if I stay this sick?

What if I can’t leave my bed?

How pissed off will the guy who hired me to shoot photos for him to promote this place if I come back with this sob story?

These were all the thing swirling through my head at the moment. I just could not lasso the swirling entanglement of thought which I knew were keeping me outside the true experience here.

And then even more sick to my stomach from what was ever inside me that began to stir once again. Sick in my brain and soul for not knowing what to really expect and come all this way to this remote part of the world, and to do something like this, only to feel really, really ill.

I felt I had let her down as well as my guide and of course ultimately me.. There is no way these tribes have been doing this for this long to only feel with what I felt. It’s like an Indian doing peyote and forget then dream land, the spirit animals or whatever’s vision they see; only a sick feeling and an unsureness of what’s next. 

When it became evident so late into this moonless night that my visions were not to be realized, she said it was time to stop.

Part of me felt like a huge failure. The other part was so happy to just go to my bed. I walked back to my little cabina in the absolute dark with just a small light. I felt really alone and with what  had just gone on and a groaning jungle that suddenly felt like it was crawling over me like a large snake around a poor rodent who wandered aimlessly in its path.

As I finally made my way into the room, and just crashed down on my bed, little did I know my night had just begun and there would be a third consecutive night with no sleep what so ever.

I wanted so badly to commune on a deeper spiritual level that had been passed on from generation to generation for as long as people have lived in the amazon. And I was honored to be part of something as sacred and ritualistic as this, that I ignored the one thing that I believe this was supposed to be built around; a completely empty and free mind. I simply could not deliver.

I won’t call this a bad trip as truthfully I don’t think there was any trip at all. Maybe that is the definition, who knows?

Postscript; a few days later I met a younger local man who spoke enough English to tell me of his  experience with Ayahuasca. He told me of his visions of walking  amongst all the jungle animals along with many other visions he had. He said his ceremony lasted 3 or 4 hours and the visions lasted for another 6 hrs. Every time he tried to close his eyes to sleep, they just got more intense so he kept his eyes open for as long as he could. He also told me he did not need to fast and he never got sick at all. 

I think I have really just not been mentally prepared for such an experience as all I really wanted to do was sleep. If you are from around here, it is the common belief why I never got any visions. Many have told me so in the next several days when I discussed it with them.

If you are from a modern western philosophical frame of mind, it all just nonsense and many may even think black magic or worse. It’s nothing more than the way we were taught and formed a system of belief and usually not based on any real substantive experience. More so, it a clear reflection of who we are spiritually, our relationship with God and ultimately our connection with our own selves, fears, desires and dreams through nature and divinity.

I still believe you can have a mix of it all. As much as I like to believe I am in harmony with nature, I’m now sure more than ever, that I’m not sure. It was an eye opener.

The reflection is less clear as my life back in the US is me, through and through.

I would never be able to survive out here in this jungle as much as I would like to believe I could,  living as these people do. I envy the way they approach each day with a real purpose, a lightness in their step and an over apparent willingness to smile, laugh and love each other. 

I kind of feel the next day like the first moment  landed here almost getting clobbered my a massive falling branch; just lucky to have more days to see what I can see, experience what I can experience and know how lucky I am to even be able to have a peek around the next bend in the road I am on. 

So as much as I would like to write about what a wonderful and life changing experience I had with Ayahuasca, I simply can’t. And it kills me to admit it. But that’s life! Maybe there will be a time and place for a second shot, I am not sure. One thing I will take form this is that no matter how much I think I have freed my brian from the pollution of a overly busy existence, I have so much more work to do.