Day three and slightly more sleep deprived, sipping on my sweet coffee, the Santarem was approaching its namesake, the third largest city on the Amazon. Between the “Yes” family’s dawn rummage and the roosters, my exotic adventure was becoming a nightmare. Unloading cargo The Santarem docked and while unloading its cargo, we took the opportunity
Day three and slightly more sleep deprived, sipping on my sweet coffee, the Santarem was approaching its namesake, the third largest city on the Amazon. Between the “Yes” family’s dawn rummage and the roosters, my exotic adventure was becoming a nightmare.
Unloading cargo
The Santarem docked and while unloading its cargo, we took the opportunity to explore the city and visit its colourful waterfront market. “Let’s get some cachaça and make caipirinhas”, said Elien. “We just need lemons and ice”. We discovered an ice factory close to the port and after some broken Portuguese and lots of elaborate hand signals we negotiated a bag. With the heat becoming unbearable, we raced back to the boat, storing the ice behind the bar and decided upon a swim to defy this Amazonian heat.
Curious onlookers watched as Elien and I clambered onto the stern and jumped from the rails into the green waters below. Splashing about and enjoying its refreshing feel I hadn’t realised how quickly I had drifted downstream toward Belem.
Swimming back to the boat, holding on and trying to catch my breath, a lady called out to me in Portuguese and before I was given a chance to understand, she lowered her daughter to me. I figured that her daughter wanted to go for a swim. The little girl, Mariana (7), and her sister Analisa were heading to Belem to meet their grandmother.
“This is fun”, said Mariana, confidently clutching me around the neck and kicking wildly, happy at being able to play in the river. Responsible for the girl and cautious of the current, I dared not venture too far from the boat’s protection. I was totally relaxed and treasuring this heavenly feeling until a sample of human excrement casually floated past, assuring me that I had cooled enough.
After a night of Caipirinhas and dancing on the outer deck to the melodic and rhythmic sounds of samba music and even salsa, we were once again on route to Belem. There’s nothing I enjoy more than to be gently woken by the calming noises of people screaming and arguing at 0530 in the morning. The previous night, after being mauled by ferocious mosquitoes, I came seriously close to throwing the roosters overboard.
River village
Covered in bites and scratching frantically I headed to breakfast for some more of that sickly coffee. On a happier note, day four proved to be the most picturesque and interesting of all our days travel. The boat travelled slowly closer to the bank and passed numerous picturesque little fishing villages and wooden shacks clinging precariously on the river’s bank.
River beggars
Little dugout canoes paddled out to greet us as we passed, waving enthusiastically. Well, that was what I thought. Until I realised passengers hurling little packages of clothes and food items wrapped in plastic bags to these people, many just children who were not waving, but begging. Some of the more daring canoes would paddle right up to the boat and with a small hook, latch on and then climb aboard to personally beg passengers.
That night it rained again, this time so heavily that the covers had to be lowered to prevent water entering and flooding the deck. The next day we would arrive in Belem, our destination at the mouth of the Amazon, 1,600km downstream from Manaus.
Between the Ferals, the “Yes” family, those bloody roosters and the sweet coffee, that relaxing cruise down the Amazon of which I had dreamed about all my life turned out to be more of a nightmare. Sunburnt, sleep deprived and covered in “mozzie” bites I emerged from the floating asylum with not quite the tropical adventure that I had anticipated.