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Animal Farm - Brasilian Style
Corumba and the Pantanal Friday Being at the truck at 8:00 am was no problem for David and Gary. We hadn't slept well during the night and were fully awakened by the first rays of sunlight. Gil was not going to the Pantanal (he now stayed full time in Corumba to run the business), but he was present to see us off. A backpack with some clothes was all we needed, so we put all of our extra stuff - helmets, jackets, bags - in Gil's office on a huge pile of similar stuff left by others. He even took our passports and money, also unnecessary in the Pantanal, to a safe-deposit box in the bank until we got back. The pickup truck that pulled up outside the office didn't inspire a lot of confidence, old and rickety with two hardwood planks tied to either side of the open cargo bed. We thought we'd have a better chance with the bikes, but with the flat tire, one bike certainly wasn't going anywhere. Along with us were three young Israeli fellows - Elan, Shai and another Shai. Elan and Shai had been traveling together for six months already in South America and had even gone out to the Pantanal with Gil's Tours a few months ago. Their experience had been so wonderful, they were going again. Knowing this, we settled in more at ease in the back of the truck. On the way out of town, the truck stopped to get food and supplies for the camp. The next many hours would be spent sitting uncomfortably, melting in the hot sun, so we joined the Israelis in buying a case of cold beer. Good thing we did, because the four hour truck ride turned into a six hour truck ride. Just as we and the driver were getting comfortable with the 50 MPH pace the front end of the truck washed out and we went headlong into the bushes. Bugs immediately sensed the gringo blood and wasted no time trying to extract it. What we thought was a broken axel was nothing more than a spilt beer can in the driver's lap. No harm done, we all climbed back in back for more anxiety. The dirt road all the way from Corumba to the campsite was in atrocious condition due to heavy rains the week before. The truck barely managed ten miles an hour at times, and nearly got stuck a few places in thick mud. The rains had also closed off the usual route to the camp, and it took an hour to find an alternate across the open savannas and numerous ranches that dot the Pantanal.
There was also a lot of wildlife along the rarely travelled roads. We saw deer, the large water rodent called capybara, many alligators, one big snake crossing the road, and hundreds of birds, including many rhia, a large flightless bird similar to the ostrich and emu. The guide sitting in the cab of the truck with the driver told us this was only the beginning.
The second the truck pulled up to the camp, finally ending the long, dusty, bumpy, scorching trek into the Pantanal, all our fears about the Israelis returned. There were about 25 of them, participating in all manner of activities from swimming to volleyball, from playing cards to swinging lazily in hammocks. Our new friends in the truck immediately forgot about us and joyously greeted their fellow countrymen, many of whom they knew personally, who gathered about the truck to meet the newcomers and help unload the supplies. It was obvious from our mute silence that we weren't Israeli and received an uncomfortable cold shoulder from the group in general. Not to bad mouth them, we just didn't go through the same war they had gone thru together. The many guides, on the other hand, greeted us warmly and showed us around the camp. Over a dozen tents were set up in a loose semi-circle around the perimeter. Hammocks were haphazardly strung up all over the place. The river bordered the site, and sure enough, the alligators were out in force just steps away from the camp. An open-air kitchen completed the circle, the cook hard at work preparing lunch for the hungry horde. Tall trees overshadowed the whole place, keeping it considerably cooler than the surrounding savanna. To break the ice, David joined in the volleyball and Gary went for a swim in the river, hoping that if the sedate alligators suddenly did something unexpected, they'd go after one of the half dozen Israelis also in the river. Safety in numbers, right? Or just playing the odds. Lunch was served and gone in no time. The truck was loaded up with people going back to Corumba and it pulled away, leaving us officially stranded in the middle of nowhere. It was time for the afternoon nature hike. The Israelis went off with one guide, Alex, a very tan and fit Brazilian who amazingly spoke Hebrew, taught to him by the hundreds of Israelis over the years that take Gil's tours. We joined the other three native English speakers on the tour and went off with a different guide, Pedro. Walking between stretches of open savanna and groves of thick trees in search of wildlife, Pedro scanned the trees and the ground for signs of animals. The rest of us stared at our feet, David even going barefoot, trying not to trip over the undergrowth, and swatted the swarms of mosquitoes. We'd bought bug repellent in Corumba and poured it on like baby oil. Still, the incessant buzzing of mosquitoes in our ears, the anthem of the Pantanal, made us wonder if these bugs were impervious to bug repellent. The bug stuff was working, but walking behind someone and seeing dozens of mosquitoes alighting on their head, neck, arms and legs had us checking ourselves often for the little bloodsuckers. Pedro did his job well and we saw several animals. The first was a lone howler monkey, sitting about twenty feet up in a tree and making soft grunting noises. We watched him for a few minutes and he watched us. Later, as we wandered through other areas, we could hear him and others howling their ear-shattering song. How this little creature can make such a loud noise is a miracle of nature. It reminded David of his adventure with Yolanda into the jungles of Costa Rica. Upon his finishing chemotherapy she instigated this trip that has since become one of the most important and influencial in his life. (Yoli, did I ever thank you for that? - David) Unlike the monkeys in Costa Rica this lone howler didn't try to pee on us. We saw a few deer and a couple of armadillos, shuffling around the jungle floor in search of some nice big bugs for dinner. Dinner for us humans back at the camp was a huge side of wild pig roasted over a big open fire, accompanied with salad and rice. Since there was no electricity at the camp, everything quieted down considerably after sunset. People held quiet conversations or went for a nighttime swim. Many people went off to sleep. David sat in the sand reading Hesse until interrupted by a shy Israeli woman. He and Natty discussed life, love, time and nature until her bug bites itched so bad she had to go scratch in private. David then sat up writting in his private journal until late. Gary read for a while in a hammock and fell asleep under the moonlight, gently swinging in the warm night air.
Sunlight, heat, and mosquitoes woke us at an early hour. Breakfast was a quiet affair, everyone rubbing their eyes and getting ready for another day. The Israelis all shuffled around, slow to begin the non-stop avalanche of conversations and heated discussions that were their trademark. It was obvious they were all enjoying their freedom from the rigid structure of the military; many of the men had long hair, and all the men and women had earrings. The guides offered a choice of activities for the morning - either piranha fishing or honey collecting. Our guide, Alex, suggested we go honey collecting so we could also see more animals. We could go piranha fishing the next morning before we left. David, however, wasn't so sure he wanted to stay another day. He might want to take the truck back a day early but said he'd wait to make a final decision until later. It took Alex and Pedro a while to find a good bee hive, but when they did, they moved into high gear. Everyone else had to stay back a safe distance while the guides gathered dry but green foliage and built a smoky fire under the bee hive to drive away the bees. Unwilling to give up their treasure, the bees endured the smoke. Finally, the guides kicked down the dead tree that housed the bees and won the prize. Ultimately the hive didn't yield much honey, a disappointing end to so much hard work The destructiveness of the activity also seemed excessive, and not in keeping with the "eco" part of Gil's Eco Tours. (Gil later confessed to us he was against this activity, but the guides still did it to please the tourists.) On the way back to camp, we spotted a large group of coatimundi in the trees near camp. These adorable little animals with long noses and tails climbed and leapt nimbly from branch to branch, from tree to tree. Aware of our presence, they would scramble around a truck or to a thick patch of leaves to hide, then slowly stick out their head to watch us. The young ones would just freeze in place, sometimes right above our heads and look down with wide eyes. If it wasn't for the mosquitoes, we could have stayed there for hours watching them. When the truck with a new load of tourists pulled
up in the early afternoon, David was sure that he wanted to go back
to town. By then, we had befriended many of the Israelis, and it
was in no way their presence at the campsite that affected David.
On the contrary, they added a measure of joyful boisterousness that
was truly contagious. David was just preoccupied by the state of
his relationship back home, a difficult thing to handle being so
far away and gone for so long. Like Gary, he was enjoying the tour
and the Pantanal, but he wasn't much in the mood for being around
so many people and participating in group activities.
We had some time before the truck left, and the guides were putting on a feeding demonstration with the resident alligators. One alligator named Amarelo (Portuguese for yellow) will even sit up and take food right from your hand. Just remember to let go of the food or your hand will go with it. We posed for some photos with the beasts, breaking the law of the jungle between predator and prey and actually petting them on their scaly backs.
We'd given up our room at the Hotel Brasil but were lucky to get another one, considering the number of people who'd just gotten off the truck who also needed rooms. Gil was surprised to see us come back a day early, hoping that everything had been okay. We reassured him that it was, that we'd come back for personal reasons. Being the good, decent person he is, he agreed to refund us a day of the tour. The power went out in Corumba in the mid-evening and the entire town was plunged into darkness. David sat with Natty as they wrote in their journals by candlelight and shared stories of their adventures over the last months. For years, she carried with her a charm from a friend who said she had to give it away if she thought someone else needed it more. David was that person. We all walked to a restaurant along the dark streets and ate churrasco by candlelight. Fortunately the power came back on before we went to bed and were able to turn the fan on in the room. Even so, the heat once again made sleep miserable.
For some inexplicable reason, despite the heat, humidity, sunshine, and mosquitoes, we managed to sleep in late. Maybe we were finally getting used to sleeping drenched with our own sweat. We knew we wouldn't be getting out of town today for two reasons. First, Gil had arranged for a TV interview for us tomorrow morning which would be on all over the state of Mato Grosso du Sul. Secondly and more definitively, our important documents and money were safely locked up in the bank, and all efforts to contact the bank manager to get access failed; seems he was away on a fishing trip or something like that. Gil refunded $25 to each of us for the abbreviated tour so we had cash at least.
The local tire shop quickly patched the tube which appeared to have given out all on its own. We could find no evidence of puncture in the tread, and the rip in the tube was very clean. The tire-men were a little shocked to see green stuff coming out of the tube as they fixed it, and our efforts to explain Slime and how it works were pathetically insufficient. Finally, Gary just said it was the blood of the tire and left it at that. Back at the Hotel Brasil, we begged the manager to find us a different room. The one we now had was moldy and had a funky smell and the fan didn't work too well. Finally, in the late afternoon, when enough people had checked out, we found ourselves back in the room we started in. Good enough. Gary sat down in the common room with the computer and began to write. He managed a number of days for the journals, but was constantly interrupted by curious Israelis. They all wanted to see the web page and some of the photos, especially Elan and Shai and his two friends who had done the bike trip in Cusco. Seems we were all of a sudden popular again.
Gil invited us to a casual dinner of hamburgers down by the riverfront. We asked about his English and learned he had lived in Michigan for several years and then in Westin, Florida. Gary was surprised to hear this, as his brother Steve and his family live right next door in Sunrise. The coincidences just kept adding up. We also learned that Gil was a drummer of Brazilian music, playing the tamborim, berimbao, and surdo, and David expressed a desire to see him play and maybe do some playing of his own. Tonight, Gil told us, was a pagode, a party with live samba music that was sure to have all the drumming David wanted to see. The pagode was without a doubt the liveliest party or club atmosphere we'd been to since the Garifuna Independence Day celebration in Dangriga, Belize, and in fact very similar. (Jim, you'd have loved it.) The party was held under a large tent and beer flowed copiously from several kegs. Everybody was laughing, smiling, and dancing to the samba rhythms of the live band. Watching everyone shake their booty, literally, made our heads spin. Brasilian women must be genetically different to shake their hips the way they do.
We walked home through the quiet residential streets of Corumba reflecting on what a good time we'd had in Brasil so far, and wondered how Alex was doing, on his own for the 900 mile drive to Sao Paulo. Was he there yet? Did he have problems on the road? We'd know tomorrow when we called his mom's house before leaving Corumba.
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Along the way, we got
to know our fellow travelers. Like most Israelis traveling, they
had recently finished their obligatory service in the Israeli army.
They were avid motorcrossers back home, and had even rented motorcycles
in Cusco for a four-day jaunt in the Andes. Their youthful enthusiasm
and similar interest in our own trip allayed the last of our fears
about being in the midst of so many Israelis for the weekend. Surely,
they were all like us - young travellers eager to explore and to
learn and to share experiences.
We lamented not having the bikes, which would easily have
made the drive, and a helluva lot quicker, too. Most of the other
travellers we'd met had all traveled this way often, being bounced
around in the back of a truck on some horrible road, having to ask
permission to stop and pee or buy something to drink, hoping the
vehicle won't break down or the driver lose control and plunge over
some cliff. Traveling by motorcycle, despite its own hardships,
was luxury in comparison. More than just the killer suspension and
cushy seat was the freedom and control over your own destiny.
The truck was a different
one, larger to accommodate the bigger group going back to Corumba.
Again the drive was uncomfortable and slow, made even slower by
the weak bladders of several of the young men in the truck. At one
point, the truck did get stuck in some mud, and everyone piled out
to give it a push. There were again many animals on the way back
- capybara, deer, alligators, parakeets, toucans, and many other
kinds of birds. As they drove away from the Pantanal it felt to
David as if he had left something behind, some huge part of his
life that he could never get back and never find again. He was lighter
for having lost it but worried about living without it. The sun
set halfway back to town, creating a beautiful orange sky over the
Pantanal and a respite from the intense heat of the day.
At an open air market, David and Gary scoured
the tables for the right size wrench to remove Gary's front tire
and fix the flat. David, in pidgeon Portuguese mixed with Spanish,
struck a deal with a woman vendor to buy three different sized wrenches
and return the two of them that were the wrong size since we weren't
exactly sure which one we needed.
David went out into Corumba to take some
pictures. This town situated at the edge of the Pantanal along a
narrow river is really quite attractive. The streets are cobble-stoned
and lined with shade trees. Numerous cafes put chairs and tables
on the sidewalk where it is customary to stop briefly for a cold
drink or ice cream. The residents promenade casually along the sidewalks,
displaying an overabundance of tan skin and tone bodies - women
and men.
Gil introduced David to some of the bandmembers
during a break, and David tried his hand at playing the pandeiro,
similar to an American tambourine. Gil left soon to do something
"important" even though it was late at night. He'd been
disappearing like that since we'd met him. We said we'd see each
other before the interview in the morning. David and Gary stayed
for a while longer until the undulations of the sweaty crowd hypnotized
them into a drowsy state.