Demarcation Diaries
29 August 2001
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Our journey has begun! We departed Manaus on Monday afternoon
at 5p.m.
It was the first time we had all been together on the Commandante
Savio, our small river boat that is going to take us slowly
westward, against the current of the Solimoes river, the
local name for the Amazon river.
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The first thing we did was take a shortcut! We were on the river
15 minutes, and the captain announced we are going to try a smaller
river to cut some time right away. The sun was setting, the river
was narrow, and we all got introduced to our new friends, the
mosquitoes.
As we sat down to dinner on the open second deck of our boat,
we sat down with ants, mosquitoes, and about 10 varieties of insects
I had never seen before. And we all ate together. We turned off
as many lights as we could, for two reasons, I think.
One, to avoid attracting more bugs. Two, to avoid seeing which
bugs we were eating with our rice and beans. Luckily for us, the
insects leave a couple of hours after sunset, but we can all see
what we have in store in the early evenings for the next six weeks.
After our first meal, we dug into the hammocks and had a hammock-hanging
party. We all kind of looked at each other as we tried this knot
and that, experimented with different lengths of rope, and tested
our own work by carefully climbing in and hoping not to hit the
floor.
We all have cabins, but most of us have chosen to sleep in a
hammock on the second deck with a mosquito net around it. There
is a gentle breeze that comes off of the water all night, and
the sound of the waves travelling down the side of the Savio makes
for a nice night's sleep.
After hanging the hammocks, most of us sat silently or in small
groups just watching the dark trees go by. We noticed that the
moon is growing right now, it lights up the sky each night, and
we figure by the time we reach the mouth of the Jurua river, the
moon will be full.
Our group is a wonderful mix. As I write these updates, I hope
to use their names, introducing them as things happen, as we talk
and get to know each other better. Already it is obvious that
we have a special group. During the short time together in Manaus,
we all worked very well together, buying last-minute supplies,
counting pots, pans, first-aid kits, blankets, food. Eating lunch
and dinner each day and discussing our project together was a
great introduction in Manaus.
Each one of us has a different motivation for being here, mixed
with personal goals, impressions, upbringings. We are Spanish,
Greek, English, Dutch, Chilean, Swedish, German, Brazilian, and
American. Tomorrow a Chinese volunteer arrives, who we will pick
up in a small town along the river.
Most of the volunteers speak English, and we translate everything
into Portuguese for some of the crew. My Portuguese is going very
well this year, but it is going to take awhile to understand all
the jokes the captain tells everyday.
All the boat crew are from the Amazon region, with a lot of experience
in these rivers. We have four men who take turns driving the Savio
during our 24-hour a day voyage, and two women who are cooking
our meals. They obviously like this work, with easy smiles and
serious work dispositions.
The river we are travelling on is quite brown and muddy. But,
some of these towns sit at the mouth of a black river, which are
great places to swim! So, this morning, the entire crew got our
first taste of a good Amazon river swim. The first of many, I
hope. The water is warm, clean, and tastes slightly acidic. And
it feels wonderful!
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This afternoon, we practised with an aluminium boat that
we will use on the smaller rivers during the project. We
all drove around the Savio, next to the shore, through the
waves. On our first practice run, two grey, freshwater dolphins
jumped about 10 feet in the air just ahead of us! We always
look at spectacles like that as good luck. Only two of us
saw them, so now the storytelling begins!
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Our surroundings are the Solimoes river, about half mile wide
here, and the thick, green forest on both sides. There are single
homes where the 'ribeiros', or 'people of the river' live all
along the shore. They are often spaced about one mile apart, small
wooden boats made of a tree truck pulled up on the shore in front
of these places, three or four children sitting on the front steps
of the house, cows in the yard, and a small space cleared near
the house.
At this second, I can see the bright yellow leaves of one giant
tree mixed with the greens of all the others just behind one of
these houses I am describing. This is the season when the river
is receeding here, so there is a bare, steep shoreline that extends
about 10 feet up, connecting the brown river water to the green
forest.
I am told the water will drop another 20 to 30 feet before it
rises again, creating beaches, narrowing all the rivers, and exposing
what is nine months of the year, the bottom of the river. This
is our scenery, motoring at up river against the current.
I hear the clanging of dishes, and voices from the dining table,
so it is time for our afternoon rendezvous for juice and coffee.
The speed of life here is slow and methodical, and things we do
are deliberate and planned. Lots of laughing, pondering our days
ahead, and now, begging for more swim-stops!
So, it is time to go listen to a lot of different accents, enjoy
the conversation, and watch the sunset. No two sunsets are alike
down here. Until later...tchau!
Bryan
United States
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