It takes several arguments with disgruntled bus travelers and a boat ride across the Arajuno River, for us to reach the rocky beach of the Arajuno lodge. Quaint wooden cabins are spread out in front of us amongst patches of grass and towering bamboo stems. It feels like a microcosm of rustic urbanization. Between the wooden walls, colorful hammocks, and surprising satellite reception, it’s very easy to forget that we are guests in the surrounding environment. It almost feels a bit like home. Except it’s not. Around us the humidity and towering trees act as a reminder of the Amazonian forest, its unforgiving and omnipotent presence. The closest town is one hour bus ride away. In the other direction, lies the territory of an indigenous clan, known for killing any outsider brave enough to attempt contact. It’s up to us to adapt, because there’s 105% chance the forest is not going to make any effort to accommodate us.
It’s a bit hard at first; it’s fairly difficult to remain passive after observing a snake dangling from a tree, or a black scorpion hanging out in the bathroom. But in the end, these “surprises” end up being minor distractions, quickly pushed to the back of our minds as our focuses shift. We are here as volunteers, and the work is laid out to us rather simply.
– 8am. Breakfast (mostly organic, locally grown food)
– 9am-1pm. Work, and as Tom the cabin director puts it; “you’ll be sweating a lot”. Which we did.
– 1.30pm. Lunch
– 2.30 pm – 7pm. Activities or free time
– 7pm. Dinner
It’s easy and settling to understand, pretty liberating even.
The actual physical practice is much more difficult. On two separate days we shovel sand and haul it in bags to a sheltered pond in order to build a makeshift beach. Our sand pool will later be used as a nesting beach for the yellow-spotted turtles recused by Tom and his friend John ( and for 3 females to 120+ males, the beach is going to be much needed). Other days we weed medicinal plant beds and a bamboo nursery, or clean the debris caused by sawing soaring bamboo stems. The afternoons are much more leisurely, whether they’re spent taking a quick dip in the river or tubing down its rapid; it’s easy to find a pastime in the close cool waters.
Then there’s a hike and a visit to a local Quechan community.
The village, named Santa Barbara, is small and simple. We had the honor of witnessing a mock-shaman ceremony, participating in a traditional dance, trying local foods ( some students ate giant live maggots but I will not be naming names just to keep the mystery alive), and buying local crafts. We left with new jewelry, unfamiliar aftertastes, a lot of pictures, and in some cases, hypothetically cleansed auras.
The forest, unlike the village is large and imposing. We walked amongst 500 year old trees, menacing spiders, and suffocating heat and humidity trapped in the surrounding air. We trekked up steep slopes, down steeper ones, and through a river (the unfortunate few with the shortest boots also lulled around water filled shoes). We struggled and made it.
Of course we always found time to enjoy the hammocks, and despite spending a major part of our days covered in sweat, sand and bamboo splinters, it’s going to be hard to let it go and take the boat onto our next destination.
