First day in the Amazon–Anavilhanas Lodge
lt had never really occurred to me that you don’t just “drive” into the Amazon rainforest. There are many hoops to jump through, the first being the ferry from Manaus. I didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t this. A big concrete landing pad with a two-track ramp to load cars on with. There was no office, no administration of any kind–just various people hanging around.
There were a couple of ferries on the water, this being the first one. It wasn’t ours. It looks like several boats are tied on to the thing. And he didn’t land at our place, so there’s no telling what he was up to.
Our ferry was coming. Look at the gaggle of Brazilians standing at the bow/stern to get off as fast as they can. Right now, the only way to get from the Amazon to Manaus and vice versa is via ferry.
The ferry is an important factor in preventing the wholesale rape of the Amazon. Any resources taken from there must travel by ferry to get to the rest of Brazil or the world. It is a pain in the ass, obviously, and it’s surely time-and-money-prohibitive in certain cases.
When the giant boat pulled up, our greeter hopped out of the van, telling us that he had to get off there. “Aww,” we all said. He was great, and we were sorry to see him go.
“You will be in good hands with the driver on the ferry,” he began. “And when you get across, you will be met by the owners of the lodge, who will ride there with you all.”
I didn’t understand a word of what he was saying. My mind was on a million other things. Like scorpions, snakes, candiru catfish, piranha and heat.
We were all asked to stay in the van while we drove onto the ferry. Makes sense. I mentioned to Yavor that we had noticed his berimbau. “Yes, I had to have one,” he said. “I am a musician in Bulgaria. I am very interested in these instruments.”
We also learned that Yavor is a lawyer in addition to being a musician and that Natacha was some sort of doctor from Belgium. Wow! What a couple of losers! And so unattractive!
Natacha also spoke very good English, but was not quite as fluent, nor as ebullient as Yavor. But she sure was channeling Julia Roberts! I told her that one night at dinner and Yavor said, “You have a friend for life.”
“Well surely people tell her that all the time,” I insisted.
“Yes. Once or twice,” she replied shyly.
There were about six cars and a couple of vans and trucks aboard in addition to fifty or so people, who stood on the stairs and upper deck. Sometimes they’d go down to entertain the captain, who saw my camera and turned it on for me.
This shot of the pedestrian passengers is quite pretty.
The ride was longer than I thought, and I was thirsty again. Fortunately, there was a little guy with a big aluminum bowl filled with ice and various drinks, including the blessed agua. I bought a couple for Jean and me at 2 Reais each. Still a bargain, and nobody was trying to rip anybody off just because they were captive on a ferry in the middle of the river. That seemed to be the mindset of the Brazilian small vendor everywhere. They operated under invisible price guidelines, obviously, because we never paid more than 2 Reais for water anywhere, under any circumstances. Even the beer at Rio Carnaval was reasonably priced.
Robo had donned his new hat and even buttoned up the sides. Quite a complement to his beard. I had begun to realize that his scruffiness was directly linked to how bad he felt. And I get the idea that he felt less than stellar at that moment.
We were all getting kind of antsy. Yavor decided to go up and converse with some of the locals. In addition to great English, his Portuguese was also fantastic. The kids of course loved him, and I could see how the performer in him was a permanent resident of his psyche.
Jean looked at me and said, “Enough pictures of me. Let me take one of you.” I should have been suspicious, knowing our history and all, but I let her. Another album cover! Love Songs for Manatees. Notice the embroidery on Robo’s hat. TEN BUCKS AMERICAN! Who can believe it?
It was time to land! When we approached, I could feel a weird commercially festive vibe, like a tiny little Cozumel or something. There was a floating bar surrounded by kids swimming in the Rio Negro. It was very strange to me to see the kiss of tourism on the lips of this former virgin. It’s hard as hell to get there, so whatever attractions they have are kind of thrown together at best. The naive charm is ingrained, but I’m not so sure it can last much longer.
It was here that we picked up the owners of the Anavilhanas Lodge. I don’t remember their names, but know they were from São Paulo, looked to be in their early 40s, and seemed to balance money and love for the environment. I believe he is or was some kind of businessman, and decided to buy this virgin land on the Rio Negro portion of the Amazon and build a small ecologically sound resort for those who wanted to experience one of the most important wild places on the planet. His English was flawless, his wife being less fluent, but no less cute.
I found it interesting that a businessman would transfer his love for the environment into a benign way of making money off of it. Ultimately, it will have to be the people with money who save the planet, because those without it will use it to the fullest, and not always in the right way.
During the three-hour ride over, our host told us a lot about the precarious situation that the Amazon is in. There are rumblings, hell, they may be realities, of building a bridge from Manaus to the Amazon to do away with the necessity of ferrying over. Resources could flow out of there like blood from an X-acto Knife w
ound: first there’d be no evidence, then a few droplets of blood appear, finally it begins to gush like no tomorrow.
The landscape was largely similar to that you would see in south Alabama. Every now and then, there would be a naked area filled with tree stumps and grazing cattle. Our host would kind of shake his head at this, at the same time acknowledging that the people who live there need to make a living too. But can’t they do it sensibly? He told us that every time a road is built, more of the Amazon dies. It was rather cut and dried the way he said it, but in essence it is totally true.
Eventually there was a lull in the conversation, and Robo succumbed to Morpheus.
I don’t know what it is about my insisting on photographing people when their soft underbellies are showing. In Robo’s case, it has to be because he’s so gol-durned smart and looks so good in that quick dry fabric that is all the rage in Brazil.
It was very interesting the way that English was the language used for general communication in the van. Five different countries were represented: Brazil, India, Bulgaria, Belgium and the US. It was kind of odd after having been just about totally immersed in Portuguese before.
The landscape continued to look like domestic terrain. It was not what I had pictured at all. We rounded a big curve just in time to see a huge black snake cross the road. Robo and I both cringed, and then Jean did the old crawly thing up my arm just to drive it home even more. I was gonna make her look under the bed when we got in the room.
The light rain continued, which served to ramp up my anxiety a good bit. What was it gonna be like? There was a big nature hike mentioned. What would that be like? Hot, I was sure.
As if on cue, we turned off onto a very rutted dirt road that seemed to be insufficiently firm to hold us all. The wet foliage closed in on us, and slapped at the van intermittently as we forged our way up and down steep hills punctuated by surprising curves. There was no shoulder to the “road,” only negative space on either side, but the driver seemed perfectly capable, and the owners kept chatting it up, so it was obviously less of an adventure than I was envisioning.
We finally pulled into a gravel area and everyone got out. “Here is as far as we can go,” the owner said. “We’ll get out here.”
Oh shit,I thought. We’re gonna have to schlep our stuff through the rain, God-knows-how far to get there! Not so! Suddenly there were about five Brazilians in green Anavilhanas t-shirts and flip flops who grabbed all the luggage in the van and disappeared into the woods. We all followed in single file.
The “woods” consisted of about 50 feet of trees surrounding a small path that culminated in the lodge. Thank goodness. “Where Nature and Style Meet” is what the brochure said. I think they had it down.
We all met in the lobby, which was a large open room with no walls and an authentic thatch roof. The front desk, bathrooms and bar were on one end. The rest of the area was filled with sofas, lounge tables, a pool table, books, games and a fireplace. The walls were painted a beautiful PMS 300 blue and were decorated with arts produced locally.
Of course they had a dog: a big friendly black lab that I set upon immediately. He would roll on his back in a flash for the old stomach rub–the best kind of dog.
While we were gathered, the owners gave us an orientation and passed out complimentary drinks made from fresh fruit. The bar was also open and the staff could make any kind of roska or caipirinha you could have wanted. They weren’t too expensive–about 5 bucks American I think, but eventually Jean and I clued into the fact that we could make our own drinks in the room and bring them to cocktail hour. Having packed all the liquor from Rio, we were set. We are such pikers.
After the introduction, we all took various gravel paths to find our lodging, which had been stocked with our luggage already. Each cabin contained two rooms in mirror image. They weren’t numbered, but were identified by the carvings of local fauna on the doors. We were
the monkey. Our cabin was only one down from the lobby, which was great. The first thing we did when we got inside was turn on the air conditioner.
The room was great. Kind of like a camp cabin, but not. The walls were beautiful wood paneling (local of course), as were the floors. There was a nice queen bed, and a little porch with hammock right off the bedroom.
The bathroom was cool, with a no-step shower and toilet divided by a concrete wall. Very efficient, and obviously sewer friendly. The owners had pointed out that their being here has no effect on the local environment, and that their sewage is treated on site. Hence the familiar sign!
On the counter by the sink with a couple of glasses was a giant bottle of water with a small sign hanging on the neck reading “It is a gift for you.” It had been printed in a nice Helvetica Bold, hand laminated and punched, and was tied with a piece of hemp string. Everything at the place seemed to be one with the area.
It was time to join the others back at the lobby for cocktails. Jean and I trooped back up the wet gravel path, rocks leaping into the side holes of my Crocs. Happy Hour was quite a comfortable scene: we sat on the various couches with Natacha, Yavor and Rupi. The staff was beginning to become familiar, and after a couple of their fine drinks, they were rapidly becoming our new pals.
Dinner was served on an elevated wraparaound porch with thatch roof. The center of the building was the kitchen, with a giant serving window that looked out on a long table covered with food, buffet style. The small number of guests made it feel more like a big family dinner.
We found our table with the help of Sebastian, one of the all-purpose staff around the lodge. He was a beaming guy who was more than eager to help in any way. Being that he and several others were learning English, he liked talking with us. The lodge has a training program that teaches skills to the locals in addition to employing them at a good wage. The staff were all friendly and seemed to love working there.
They had set the dining room with tables for each group staying there. Ours was denoted by a neat local carving of an Amazonian monkey (us) and a stingray (the Kennemers).
The food was delicious, being fresh and prepared in local fashion much of the time. There was a big bowl of manioc flour in the middle of the table that was fun to identify. The main dish was chicken cooked similarly to the way Carol had served it our first day in Salvador. The vegetables and fruits were plentiful, with three kinds of juice in addition to stellar coffee.
After dinner, everybody kind of hung around instead of disappearing. We invited Rupi over to sit with us and finish his bottle of wine. After that night, we moved him in with us. Yavor and Natacha stopped by to tell us about their evening’s plans: a night boat ride and creature roundup. Yee-haa! I had a good feeling what kind of creatures they’d be.
We headed to the rack presently, because our first event was going to begin at 5:00 a.m.: a sunrise boat ride on the Amazon. I was excited about the photo possibilities. It was fairly early, and we were whooped from the long trip over. I didn’t even care that Jean was setting that gol-durned Blackblerry. During the evening, we both slept like rocks but were securely aware of the thunderstorm raging outside our tiny cabin. I halfway wondered what it would do to our sunrise cruise, but remembered the host’s words: “It may be raining one minute and sunny the next. It’s just part of the Amazon.”