T, Mark Fleeing a Country off My Bucket List.

In this post, I (G) will attempt to recall to the best of my recollection the remaining portion of our time in Amazon and Lima before being forced to flee Peru due to Covid-19. I will then fill in our readers with the time between our initial and current attempt to travel the world. There were a few adventures between our first and second attempt to travel the world, which T will briefly address in a separate blog entry before resuming the global trek. Now, let’s wind that clock back a bit!

March 13th, 2020

The lodge I was describing in my previous post had a main dining area all of which was well screened. Its high ceilings were no doubt an attempt to keep it cool, but this still seemed to do little when matched against the humidity of the jungle. The dining area had a few screened wooden doors on each of the four walls the one on the left led to the kitchen, the right to another raised boardwalk that wound through the jungle to individually screened huts where guests would stay, and the doors immediately opposite the doors we entered to the dining area lead into a small cleared patch of grass hedged in by the dense jungle.

Kevin showed us to our hut which was on raised stilts to match the height of the boardwalk. T entered the screened hut quickly to avoid the wasps of unusual size that seemed to enjoy buzzing over the boardwalk. She attests she has since suppressed the memory, but I recall it well.

We quickly dropped our packs and filtered water in the hut. The water was from the small, poorly lit, and slightly questionable bathroom that was attached to the hut. Hydration, being our primary concern, we drank and filtered water as often as we could. The heat and humidity of Amazon combined with the relative necessity to wear long sleeves to defend against mosquitos and sun (when on the river) kept T and I in a perpetual state of perspiration. This was something I had expected. T, however, was used to being cold most of the time. While she knew she would probably be hot, she didn’t realize that she, too, would sweat almost constantly. Hopeful our persistent consumption of water would keep pace with our perspiration, we gathered ourselves once again and returned to the dining hall to make our first excursion.

For our first outing, we hopped back into our river boat and once again took to the river. I have no true recollection of how much time passed, but we eventually arrived at a small dock which upon disembarking led to a quaint village filled with high peaked thatched huts. Kevin told us he had grown up in a small village, not unlike this one and he seemed very familiar and friendly with all those we came into contact with. At one point he stopped to hand us each a piece of fruit. It was unlike any I have seen before or since, dark reddish-brown in color, about the size of a large walnut. The skin of the fruit was more akin to scales, under which a deep yellow fleshy fruit waited to be enjoyed. It was sweet but not to excess similar perhaps in taste to starfruit, but Kevin had not led us here simply to enjoy a piece of fruit.

Aguaje fruit, native to the Amazon palm tree, who knew!?

This was the entrance of a butterfly sanctuary, with the goal of retaining a portion of the unique biodiversity of the rainforest. Due to habitat destruction, the butterfly population of specific species had fallen significantly. We spent time learning more about the unique and truly beautiful butterflies in their various stages of life. The chrysalis of one species truly looked like little chunks of gold. Our time at the sanctuary ended with us releasing butterflies into the wild.

After this, we headed back to the river and deeper into the jungle where we made our second stop, Monkey Island! This game preserve was an island filled with a wide variety of hundreds of monkeys that had been rescued from trafficking or trade and were in the process of learning how to return to the wild. They were never forced to interact with humans but could do so if they pleased. The most social, rambunctious, and mischievous of them were the Woolly Monkeys. A trio of them spent no time in learning that if I held my hand out a certain way it meant one of them could grab it and I would swing them toward their two friends allowing them to tackle each other playfully. It was a joyful game that lasted a bit over an hour before they were tired and decided that grooming my hair was far more entertaining. After returning to the boats, we headed back for dinner.

Dinner consisted of rice, vegetables, cassava, and a bit of undisclosed meat, which we would later learn was a large jungle rodent, which was, fortunately, cooked well done. We then returned to our hut to rest until our night hike began.

Headlamps fastened and gum boots snuggly on, we prepared in the dining hall for our night hike. Kevin led the way out, large machete in hand. We passed through the small clearing and found a small dirt path that entered the Jungle. In the clearing, you could hear and see flashes of light from a distant, but approaching thunderstorm.

As we left the clearing the jungle enveloped us. The path we followed diminished over time, the jungle was very much alive and loud with the sounds of shifting plants, birds calling to each other, the occasional ring of Kevin’s machete, and a strange, high pitch tink tink sound. The green and brown shades of leaves, vines, branches, and trunks inched closer against us the deeper we progressed. Soon the dirt path became a carpet of leaves, and my mind shifted to concerns about the various pit vipers that call the Amazon home, how easy it would be to step on one under a leaf or perhaps mistake it for a vine and try to push it aside to move forward. How easy it would be in this environment for anything of great or small size to approach our little trio was truly unnerving. The path had all but disappeared and no matter which direction I looked my eyes would be met with green and brown leaves less than a foot in front of them, and the tinking sound persisted all around us.

All the while the approaching storm had been closing the distance and now after about an hour of hiking it had arrived. It did not arrive as you might expect to experience a thunderstorm, we saw no lightning through the triple canopy of leaves above us, merely a momentary, dull illumination that strained to brighten the dark tones of green. The rain did not fall immediately to us, being forced to slowly find its way down through leaves it fell in heavy odd drops. The thunder could be heard, but even this seemed dampened by the leaves above. However, the volume of the jungle seemed to increase overall as the rain falling to impact the leaves generated almost a dull hum. This hum was still not enough to drown the noise of birds nor of the tinking sound that persisted around us still.

“What is that tinking sound?” I blurted out to Kevin. He lowered his machete and asked, “what tinking noise?” I was only forced to wait a few seconds before another tink sounded to our left a bit above our heads. “That!” I said. Kevin grinned and in an unconcerned, matter of fact, tone replied, “Oh, that’s just the scorpions.” He then returned to blazing through the undergrowth looking for interesting animals or insects to point out. He had previously pointed out a bullet ant, a tarantula, and a jungle rat (which generally have white markings around their eyes making them appear bespectacled. We actually thought the jungle rats were kinda cute).

Having hiked and camped many places, some more dangerous than others, T and I did not expect our night hike to be capable of producing a genuine fear in us. That night, wet with rain and sweat, muddy, surrounded by scorpions, with no clear knowledge of how to return to safety on our own, and imprisoned by the shifting jungle, we felt afraid. Not a panicky brief moment of fear, but a deeper fear something close to the soul of humanity, almost primordial. While the night was dark it revealed the immensity of our world and the vulnerabilities we all share. It was terrible but in a way, I felt more connected to others because of it.

Another hour of hiking brought us back around to the small clearing near where we had entered. The rain now fell full and heavy and the lightning and thunder could be clearly seen and heard. This was when I noticed the difference between inside and outside the jungle. We returned to our hut and fell asleep with the sounds of the thunder and the noises of the jungle still in our ears.

March 14th, 2020

We woke and headed off to the boat once more, Alfredo had spent the night asleep on the boat in his hammock with only a few mosquito repellant incense sticks burning around him. Still, he seemed reasonably rested and before long he had taken me, T, and Kevin down the river to meet a local tribe. Similar to our initial port, there was no discernible marker that I could detect which indicated where we should stop, but Alfredo seemed never to need one. He pulled our boat in close near a steep bank sheltered by trees with vines dipping into the water below and a small pair of native tribe boys appeared and led the way across a narrow plank bridge spanning a swampy little ravine.

There the rest of the tribe appeared, wearing very little clothing made of leaves and some of red fabric they had traded for. They were generally short, with the chief being among the tallest the top of his head only reached about the height of the bottom of my ears, putting him around 5’ 5” (165 cm) at best. Here we sat with the tribe and were quite promptly present with a pair of sloths to hold. T got the boy sloth and she and the children of the tribe fed him leaves. I received the girl sloth and also fed her leaves. As she reached for the leaves, I noticed her long nails had been painted with green nail polish, a humorous reminder that no matter where they are from, most little girls seem to enjoy painting nails and dressing things up. After feeding our sloths, we held them or rather they hugged us as we learned a welcoming dance of the tribe which we then performed with them. The sloths did not seem to mind either way and simply held on for the ride.

After the dance, the chief taught me to use one of their blow guns to hit a target carved into a tree (sadly in the shape of a sloth. Fear not, their sloth pets were loved and well taken care of). I shot and hit the target a little low and to the right. Then I shot again, once more I hit the target but was a bit high from the center. T appeared next to the chief and still holding her sloth gestured to the chief (who spoke only his native tongue) that she would like to try. He quickly handed her the blowdart gun which was already loaded with a long thin dart. T, without waiting for instruction, took aim, fired, and hit the dead center of the target. The look of surprise and admiration on the chief’s face makes me laugh to this day. He looked from the target and back to T, then recomposing himself, gave her the head nod of approval as she handed him back the blowdart gun and returned to the rest of the tribe gathered under a large open-sided hut.

We stayed with them for another hour or so and lamented that we could not support them the way we wanted to by purchasing more of their wares which consisted of bracelets, handcrafts, and blowdart guns. I especially would have liked the blowdart guns as they were beautifully made and decorated; however, we did each purchase a small bracelet. We learned while we were with them that they were a native Amazon tribe which had originally had lived further north in the Amazon, but had been forced to flee south to where they currently lived due to a tribal conflict with a rival Amazon tribe of cannibals which were supported by drug-running guerrilla organizations. This explained the poke and stick tattoo of an AK-47 the chief had on his right upper arm. The chief had clearly seen some things.

After leaving the tribe, we went to a different part of the river to spend the afternoon piranha fishing. Using bits of the leftover jungle rodent from dinner the night before, we baited hooks which were attached to the fishing line with wire so the piranha would not be able to bite through it. The fishing line was attached to simple wooden sticks which gave the whole experience the feeling of an old-time movie. We fed a good number of piranha before finally catching one. I was the fortunate one and caught a good-sized piranha which we had later that night for dinner! That night was not a memorable one after our piranha feast and I cannot recall much.

All cooked and ready to eat, it looked real angry about it, but it was delicious!

March 15th, 2020

The next morning we said goodbye to our hut and left very early to look for the Amazon’s pink dolphins. We were fortunate and were able to see a few before heading back to Iquitos. The journey back to Iquitos took 4 hours. Then after saying our farewells to Kevin and Alfredo, we took a tuk tuk to the airport and said goodbye to the Amazon basin.

Our plane landed in Lima, we quickly found our hostel and were joyful to shower and clean up a bit. After refreshing ourselves we set off to explore Lima. Being a Sunday, many of the sights we wanted to see were closed which added to T’s frustration when she received notice that our flight (originally booked for 5 pm the following day) had been moved to 8 am. We had hoped to spend half the day exploring and seeing the things which were closed to us on Sunday. So, after minimal exploration, we returned to our hostel to spend the remaining part of the day in the commons area. It was here, in the restaurant/bar area, that I was working on updating our pictures and blog.

Now, we had heard about Covid-19 and knew that it was serious. At this point, Italy was in bad shape and the US had closed air traffic from there. We had friends that were concerned, but nothing had been mentioned or even seemed to be hinted at during our time in South America regarding quarantine or border closures. I mean nothing.

Blissfully unaware of what was about to occur I typed happily at my corner table. People ate, drank, talked, and enjoyed the soccer game playing on the TV immediately behind me. It was just after 8:30 pm and things had remained completely normal. Then the TV cut away from the soccer game.

There was a moment of silence before I heard the voice trying very hard to sound at once forceful and reassuring. I stopped mid-sentence and closed the laptop. T gave me a meaningful look as I swivelled around in my seat. There on the TV I saw an older man in a suit with a red tie speaking behind a podium. My Spanish isn’t great, I only caught about 1/4 to 1/3 of exactly what was said, but it was more than enough to know it wasn’t good. Observing the shocked faces of those in the common area confirmed my hunch, but I wanted to get the details, so T and I walked over to the bartender and asked him for exactly the details of what just happened. He replied the country was closing its borders and everyone would be in mandatory quarantine starting at midnight…less than 3 and a half hours away at this point.

I jumped back to our table and grabbed the laptop. T and I had instantly agreed without words to make a desperate run for the border. Within 15 minutes we had packed, had paid the hostel (though we nearly forgot this on the way out) and were in a taxi on the way to the airport with all the speed our remaining Peruvian money could buy. I don’t recall exactly how much I gave the driver, but it was well over his requested amount. He drove quickly and we arrived to the airport in good time. Luck remained on our side as our driver knew of a side pedestrian entrance to the airport. He stopped and told us in broken English to walk and communicated that it would be faster to do so. We complied.

As soon as we passed through the gate from the street we understood. The main entrance for cars as well as the entire dropoff zone was a mess of cars and people in panic. I saw some people running over the tops of cars to get through and closer to the airport. It was mayhem. I have never seen an airport like that and hope to never see it again in my life.

We were among the first group to arrive at security, suddenly grateful our flight had been moved earlier, T suggested we use our existing tickets to get through security and rebook tickets for sooner inside the terminal and by doing so skip the ever-growing line of people attempting to rebook outside of security. It was a solid plan. T was able to get through security by showing her ticket for the next morning. I was not. My TSA agent refused to allow me to enter even though T had already passed through. I told T to go on ahead and just get us tickets to anywhere outside of Peru. I waited for another hour and a half before the resolve of my TSA agent dissipated enough that she finally let me enter. It was clear T went rogue and wasn’t coming back.

After finding T, I learned that Peruvian terminals did not have the ability to book or change tickets once through security. T had visited every airline gate with a flight out that night and none of them had the technology to sell a ticket. So, she had also been trying to call the airlines to rebook but could not get through due to long wait times and also had attempted to book online, literally every airline website had crashed due to the panic. Eventually, resigning to defeat we moved to the 24-hour lounge, which would be closing at midnight (less than an hour away at this point) to grab a final meal before figuring out what to do next. I decided around 11:30 pm it made the most sense to find the US embassy in Peru and make our way there. Upon checking their website I found a statement which read something like this; The border for all incoming traffic to Peru is closing at midnight; however, any outbound aircraft of a foreign nation will be permitted to leave until midnight tomorrow.

This meant that if our plane had already landed and didn’t belong to Peru, it would still go out in the morning as originally planned. We checked the flight boards to find that our flight had not been canceled and still showed as on schedule. Hope burned in us as the night dragged on. The lounge closed at midnight, so we moved to the chairs by our gate and tried to rest some without success.

March 16th, 2020

The following morning, our flight was there and began boarding on schedule. With great relief, we boarded found our seats and uttered a sigh of relief. That is until the pilots and flight crew huddled together at the front of the plane and spoke in hushed tones with worried looks all exited the plane…without telling anyone anything. After what felt like an eternity they returned. Then left again. Then returned again. Meanwhile, the plane filled more and more until it was completely full. Finally, two hours late, the plane took off and we landed safely in Chile.

Upon arriving at the Chilean airport lounge, we learned that Chile would also be closing its borders in 48 hours time. A few hours later, we received news that our ship bound for Antarctica would not be sailing. It was at that moment, T and I looked at each other and knew that it was time to find the next cheapest flight back to the United States. At least the Chilean lounge had unlimited free and high-quality, delicious wine :/

So ended our first attempt to travel the world, but the adventure didn’t stop there. T’s next post will fill in the gaps that led to the relaunch of our travels in June of 2022.

T, Mark Fleeing a Country off My Bucket List.

The Past 2-ish Years

The final entry of the Amazon, BC (Before Covid).