A Journey

It was unbearably hot in Santarem. Even a couple of fire ants managed to bite my toes as I was saying goodbye to my friends. They were going back to Sao Paulo, and all I could think about was the boat trip. I needed to get out of that muddy and sticky little town as soon as possible. I was so excited to leave that I decided to spend 10 extra dollars on my boat fare, to get a hammock with air-conditioning to sleep in. It had been a while since I felt anything close to a cool breeze, and after all, it was going to be a five-day boat ride through the jungle to Belem, a city at the mouth of the Amazon river. I deserved to be comfortable during my journey. As I trotted towards the port joyfully, I didn’t even feel the heavy load of my backpack. I must have been a funny sight: all sweaty, yet trying to be somewhat stylish; unable to tame my hair because of the humidity, yet not wanting to give up my shiny Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses which were covering half of my face.

I got to the port at 11am, an hour before the boat’s departure, completely exhausted from the sun and heat. It was a large roofless boat, without a single door or window, and it reminded me of a freight carrier rather than a form of public transport. Hammocks were hanging all over the place, people lying in them, everyone in everyone else’s face, feet, mouth – you name it. A strong smell of sewage was permeating my nostrils as I jumped over millions of suitcases and boxes of luggage. I noticed that others took the instructions of arriving early more seriously than I did, and for a good purpose. The earlier you got there, the farther away from the toilet and the closer to the airflow you could set up your camp. I felt a lump in my throat as I started picturing myself in there for five whole days.

But then it occurred to me. This must be the cheapest class. I’m being silly, I did pay for an air-conditioned area after all. Regaining confidence, I asked for directions towards my compartment. Once I climbed a flight of stairs, I found out that the air-conditioned area was identical to the one without A/C, except that apparently at night, they would put up some windows and let the air in. How they were going to do that in that currently wall-less architectural accomplishment, I couldn’t imagine. But, what can I do, I thought to myself; I can’t possibly stay in Santarem for another seven days until the next boat departs.

I looked for a hammock to accommodate myself into, so that I could sob over my destiny in piece and quiet. I was never going into that toilet, or eating on this boat, I had already had a severe food poisoning in Brazil, which almost cost me my dear life. I’ll probably get robbed as well, but it was all material belongings, I tried to comfort myself. I must admit that my Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses came in handy in those moments, to avoid drawing attention to my despair. I was literally the only foreigner around. As I sat there and sobbed, a lady came up to me and said that I was sitting on her hammock. I started discussing with her that she didn’t have any sign on it indicating that it was taken. After 10 minutes of cumbersome discussion and having drained all my Portuguese language skills, I realised that it was the lady’s hammock. I was supposed to bring my own hammock; you only get the hooks for it included in the boat fare. That was the end of all my hopes for surviving this trip, I was going to have to sleep on the floor on top of everything. How the hell did I get myself into this? I had to do something urgently. I went to look for the boat captain to get some help. He was young and quite handsome in his white captain uniform, so I decided to use all my charm and all my tears to get myself out of this situation. But all he said was: “Miss, are you from Sao Paulo?” which I interpreted as, Oh my God, you’re so spoiled, can’t you handle a bit of dirt? At that point I realised that speaking Portuguese was not going to get me very far. I would have been far better off not speaking a word of it, because I would look more lost and they would be more inclined to help me. There must be some sort of an international silent solidarity pact between those without foreign language skills, I concluded as I realised that my effort to communicate my despair was to no avail. People automatically assumed that I was living in the country, which was true, and that I exactly knew what I was getting myself into, which wasn’t true. I wasn’t sure why these two assumptions would even go hand in hand, but somehow they did.

The captain then suggested I go back into town to buy a hammock since the boat was not going to sail out for another 45 minutes. So there I was, faced with two options – of which each seemed worse than the other, staying on the boat without a hammock for five days, or walking back into town with my backpack in unbearable heat, getting whistled after by slimy men and probably fainting half way down there, consequently missing the boat, which would entail staying in this dreadful town for another week and missing my flight back into Sao Paulo from Belem. 

Then something unbelievable happened, a gleam of hope which completely turned my fortune around. The captain suggested I should get a cabin. A cabin? You mean there are cabins on this boat? “All the foreigners are in the cabins,” he continued. “But it will cost you 200 dollars for the five days.” I was so broke that I contemplated it for a moment; 250 dollars were all I had for the trip. Then I thought of my dearest friend Ms. Credit Card, which I let myself use only in state of emergency. And I swiftly decided that this was emergency after all. I handed the 200 dollars to the captain hoping to figure out the rest of my life once in Belem, which I hoped would resemble civilisation. My 200 dollars would have probably gone missing anyway, I consoled myself, since I would fall asleep at some point in the five days and consequently lose firm grip over my belongings.

I was so happy when I got into my 2m² cabin. I could lock my stuff; I had my own little toilet and a shower head dripping above the toilet seat, as the only water source where you had to do everything from hand washing to hair washing. It was great! And for a second there I had thought that paradise was lost. Nothing was going to stop me from enjoying the Amazon any longer.

But of course it did. I stirred up so much attention with my sobbing, Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses and a sudden shift of fortune that many of the locals were quick to befriend me. They were oh so interested to see my cabin. A guy wanted to charge his mobile phone in there, a girl only wanted to see what it looked like, another one wondered whether my bed was comfortable, and the list continued. There was simply nowhere to hide. This must sound arrogant, but having already lived in Brazil for well over six months, I was not into exploring the local culture, I was very tired of being asked for favours or money and touched by random men. My plan was to go explore the nature and think about my relationship which was falling apart. I was moody for sure.

Then came time for the first meal of the day. It turned out that the cabin renters got their meals before everyone else. What we could not eat in the dinning saloon was then taken out onto the deck so that the others could help themselves. I felt bad but I didn’t really have an alternative. I was forced to either participate in the segregation or starve. And I shamefully admit I chose the first. I was comforted by the facts that there weren’t many cabiners and that I didn’t have much of an appetite, so there was plenty of food left behind. One of the cabiners was a girl from the Amazon, who was travelling with her husband and brother. Her brother and she had somehow managed to get to London where she met her German now husband who was proud that he managed to, in his own words, save them from that hellhole they were now visiting, to remind themselves of how lucky they were to have met him, their saviour. There were a couple of others strange looking characters travelling on their own, and as the time passed, they successfully faded out my memory. I also got a feeling that they never left their cabins except to eat. Maybe theirs were more lavish than mine, who knows.

Knowing that I would be stuck on that boat for a while, I accepted my destiny and spent the days sitting at the deck, attempting to read, while getting interrupted every minute or so, by some really tedious person who had to ask me a thing or two. I don’t think I was ever as bored in my life, but from this perspective, I suppose only such an experience could have helped me to get a sense of how long and remote that river was.

It was already dark when we got into an old Belem port on the fifth day. It was surrounded by favellas, a Brazilian version of the ghetto. It looked so scary out there that the captain offered me to spend another night in the boat, since they weren’t leaving until the next day. He thought I would be more comfortable leaving such a dodgy area once the light broke out. I considered his option, thanked him and hit the road instead, although there was a fair chance I would never see the break of light again by doing that. That is how desperate I was to get out of that boat; I was not to last a minute longer in there. I figured there were many people getting off and that I would manage to get a lift by someone into safety. And I did.

As I checked into the hotel, showered and changed, my room phone rang. I picked up and it was one of the guys from the boat inviting me to go out with his friends. Of course, by dropping me off, they saw which hotel I was going to. Reminding myself of the good old "If you can't beat them, join them", I stuffed some money into my back pocket and ventured forth into the humid night.