Family Time...The Amazon

I skipped out of Cochabamba late in July to sleep fantastically on an overnight joint back to La Paz. This is when I awoke, stumbled groggily from the bus, to a city that was gorgeously blanketed in snow. Within two days I was met by members on my family (Mom, Randy and Joe) brave enough to test their stomachs and patients in a country like Bolivia. We had an itinerary pretty much settled, but judging by certain unplan-ables, like the snow and Bolivias love for erecting political blockades in the streets as a means for getting their way, we knew we were ultimately just resting on luck. But really, when aren´t we though, no? The next two and a half weeks unfolded rather fabulously, riddled expectantly by intra-family annoyances while transversing environments as vast as ancient civilizations on the Isla del Sol of Lake Titicaca, Machu Picchu, Parque National de Madidi on the fringe of the Amazon Basin, gargantuan sprawling cities like La Paz and Arequipa, the tourist trap of Aguas Caliates (but with good food), world heritage site Cuzco and, of course, the death defying "World´s Most Dangerous Road" by bicycle.

We took off immediately by plane for Rurrenabaque (45 minutes), the jumping off point for visits to Parque Nation de Madidi (known most notably for housing 10% of all bird species know to man). I have never, in my more recent days of "adulthood" been arrested by such fear as that afternoon. The pilots were conveniently sitting directly in front of me causing me to conclusively decide I would prefer not to know exactly what they´re up to. Within minutes we were literally bouncing through a mountain pass where the peaks, albeit mighty and remarkable, were cutting wounds in the Bolivian skyline much higher than our meager little flight machine and dangerously close to the planes flapping wings. And yes, these little wings were virtually flapping as the wind currents hurled us through the Andes. I mean really, isn´t the whole point of flight to put you ABOVE the ground. This sight, of looking up in horror to the drastic snow peaked mountains directly outside my window, was soon replaced by that of looking down onto a dirt runway that had seemingly been carved straight out of the Amazon, for our aircraft's landing convenience, in the very recent past. But I was purely elated to see the land rushing up to meet our lovely little craft, even if it was bumpy red dirt.

Within two days of the jungle tour Mom was unfortunately met by a dreadful introduction to the weaknesses of the western gastro-intestinal system...or perhaps the relative harshness of unrefrigerated meats and irrigated by only-the-good-lord-knows-what vegetables. So we idled town the Beni River, a sort of intestinal-shaped passage into pristine Amazon forests, to the romantic sounds of her puking over the side of the boat. Forest walks were met by considerably more flora than fauna. Though, as we were told, this type of habitat actually houses a myriad of animals, however hidden brilliantly by thousands of years of evolutionarily attained tricks and the thick jungle landscape. We did happen upon...or were happened upon rather, by a passing herd of wild boar. We stood frozen while the foliage (like the ground beneath of very feet) not more than 10 meters in front of us shook violently for minutes as they passed in a fury of ugly snorting and a equally wretched smell.

In the same hike, our fabulous guide was able to identify the sounds of Howler Monkeys in the canopy above. "Quieren ver los?" He turned around and asked with the heavy undertones of boyhood excitement. How can you turn that down...yes, of course we want to see then. And we were off on a full sprint, bushwhacking our way after him as he called out responses to our ancestral friends. And believe you me, there was a point in the midst of this little adventure where I was leaping over a downed log, after frantically running blindly through the forest for what surely felt like much longer than the reality, that I swear to god I made internal contact with some long ago forgotten part of my DNA. Ya, sounds a bit ridiculous, but for the following moments, I wasn´t just on vacation anymore, I was part of the forest and needed to catch those howler monkeys. Ok so maybe it was just remnants of a country childhood where any sound was enough to send you on an adventurous rampage after imaginary demons...or my recent viewing of Mel Gibson's historically incorrect, generally sucky but high adrenaline Apocolypto...but it was AWESOME. Eventually, we caught up with them, surely thanks more to our guides cunning than my recently resurrected wild ways.