Pablo looked me dead in the eyes and told me we were brave. I gazed into his piercing stare, stunned and unable to even fathom what this man could have witnessed in his forty-two years of existence living in the Amazon. I wasn’t proud that he anointed me and my brother, Michael, as intrepid beings after trekking for an hour deep into the jungle to our rented bungalow, because that meant there was imminent danger lurking about. The indications for the immense fear we felt should have been apparent earlier when I reserved the home, which had no address and on the map only appeared as a dot in the middle of everlasting green. Only a guide familiar and astute could have led us there. Pablo was our man and eventual savior.
The lush surroundings of the selva are captivating and some of the trees have roots that extend above ground forming a kind of teepee effect that reminded me of the cypresses scattered along the lake shores at my Nana’s house. Those comfortable Florida confines were a far distance from our location seventy kilometers north of the isolated Peruvian city of Iquitos, the largest town in the world only accessible by plane or boat. When we arrived to the thatched roof structure sans walls, we were still adventurers, adding depth to our South American travels. That was until lunch was served shortly after. Michael, speaking no Spanish and having a hostile reaction to any mention of snakes quickly learned to decipher the translation: serpientes. Wanting to remain true to the storyteller’s nature – over deliciously prepared fish and white rice – I interpreted every word Pablo relayed about the conversation of the jungle. At one point, I didn’t have to translate though, because our keen guide made an erratic snake gesture with one hand and then tapped the table with the other to acquaint us with what we now know as the Amazonian Viper. He pointed to a hefty beam supporting the roof to give us perspective of its might and explained that the snake’s favorite maneuver is to latch its venomous fangs and snap whichever bone it grips before it coils. When I asked what does one do when that happens Pablo simply just shook his head and said “no”, and we left it at that.
Forced, I described to Michael what we had been told, more as a precaution of how the snake tends to interact. I could actually feel his perspiration exponentiate. Memories of Michael as a child running as if life depended on it at the site of a water moccasin conjured and I immediately recognized that we needed to exit this scenario as soon as possible, which at that point was the next day. Following lunch, we went on our first exploration to find a special kind of tree that has water-producing limbs. Within seconds of diverting from the main path were in the thick of the jungle and a faint trail directed us. Pablo knew at all times exactly where he was going no matter how the ground appeared, as he had executed the tour many times before. He stopped and methodically configured walking sticks that could have also been used as spears to lance anything ominous and potentially dangerous. We thanked him and followed his rubber boots’ footsteps with ours, keeping close and also serving as an additional set of eyes as he requested we be. We hurdled over downed tree trunks that still had life and encountered our drinking source which our guide chiseled to a point and then waterfalled the slight coco-tasting liquid into our mouths. Incredible, we thought. Now let’s get out of here, we thought. We left the same way we came which seemed as long as the original trek to get to the bungalow but what was in actuality only about five minutes. The familiar pineapple plants in the open area alerted us that the unpaved road and a semblance of local civilization was near. We made it. We had walked in the Amazon and nothing happened to us, especially after paying all that money.
As we trudged in the mud back to camp, Pablo enlightened us on how the next two days would go, since the tour was for two nights and three days initially and he wasn’t yet aware we wanted to return to the city. The next day we were to awake and embark on a five-hour traverse to gain more awareness of the jungle and experience the abundance of natural remedies ranging from repellent to hair growth extracts. Michael and I looked at each other with hesitance at the mention of five hours since that twenty-minute stroll was already pretty tense. Suddenly, Pablo puts up his arm like an army man in command signaling for us to freeze in our tracks. His worn camo pants indicate he’s already been to war many times with mother nature. He then whispers the word, serpiente, with a severe seriousness that looms. He had mentioned that the enormous viper snakes emit an odor that is easily detected when they’re nearby. Just then, our olfactory systems peak. The smell of a wild beast wafts before us in an entirely open-air location; we sense its presence. We’re fixed but then a quick double wave to swiftly pass and return to base lets us know we’ve narrowly avoided an encounter. The tale had become reality. We’d entered into the jungle, succumbing to its power and in that moment relinquished all perceptions we had as having an adventure into the Amazon. Instead, we understood that we had entered into a game of survival.
Narrative Nonfiction
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