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Jul 27 - Aug 1, 1999

Jungle Waterfalls and River Crossings a la Indiana Jones

From the Peruvian Highlands to the Rainforest

Manfred P.

Keywords: Peru, Tarma, San Ramon, La Merced, tourist, travel trip report, travel log, travelogue.

July 28 is a special day in Peru. It is Peru's Independence Day. Everyone celebrates it. Even better, there are a couple of state holidays surrounding the Independence Day forming a nice long weekend. Time enough to hop on a bus Tuesday night to head for Tarma, a town in the Sierra Central, the Central Highlands, and to continue the tour to San Ramón and La Merced, two towns in the "Ceja de Selva", also called "Selva Central", the Central Rainforest.

Leaving Lima

Five of us where patiently waiting at the bus station in Lima. It was the usual site as in any bus station. Large packs, things packaged in cloths, people sitting around wrapped in blankets to stay warm. There were no animals. After all this was a deluxe long-distance bus. Deluxe, however, does not imply punctual. After an hour of waiting there was still no bus in sight. We had time enough to stick our curious noses into all corners of the bus station. They had a little shop selling Inca Kola and other equally colorful sodas, cookies and other not-so-healthy snacks. The storage room was full of what seemed to be rice or flour bags. A few love turtles were kissing in the narrow and dark hallway. We thought we could also use the time to go to the restroom one more time. As we got close the smell was already overpowering. As I stand at the entrance it was too much to take and the sight was even worse. Large puddles of urine and water were on the floor and everything was wet. It seemed impossible to enter without getting your shoes soaked. Standing in the doorframe I turned around. I decided that I didn't really need to use a rest room that urgently, I decided that I could wait 5 hours until we would arrive in Tarma.

Eventually the bus came. People were arguing about something. I didn't understand until a friend explained it to me. It seemed that there was no new driver and that the considered but protested option was that the driver who just delivered the bus, who just drove 7 hours would drive another 7 hours. I am not sure how that argument ended. I just into the bus and relaxed in my seat. I was surprised; it was really comfortable. There was enough space for my long legs and we had none of the typical problems like "the window doesn't close" or "the heater cannot be turned off". It was the deluxe bus after all.

Tarma

With more than an hour delay we left at 11 p.m. and arrived in Tarma at 4 a.m. I must have slept most of the journey. It went by so quickly. All I remember was that we were talking at the beginning and, what seemed like, 30 minutes later someone said "hurry, we need to get off here". Instantly I was wide-awake. Quickly I grabbed my sweater and backpack and rushed to the door. Standing in line at the door I looked through the windows. I couldn't see anything. It was pitch dark. There was no light and I couldn't see a bus terminal. First I thought I couldn't see things because I was inside the bus. When I was standing on the street and the bus had left after his 5-minute stop, it wasn't any different. We were in a small, dark street, apparently in Tarma, but if not told I wouldn't know. No bus terminal, no plaza, not anything.

The five of were standing in this small street at 4 o'clock in the morning in the freezing cold. We got a cab. The cabby had a woman sitting on the passenger side. Initially I thought it is a passenger until it turned out to be his wife. We stored our bags and backpacks in the trunk and got into the cab. It was comfortably tight as four of us sat in the back. After a while I got a bit nervous as I saw the trunk door go up and down several times. When I told my friend he said, "Don't worry. It's the cabby's wife. She is riding in the trunk." Of course, as all 7 didn't fit in the car, the cabby's wife lay down on top our luggage in the trunk and held the trunk door from the inside. The car wasn't the newest either. During the 15-minute ride from the bus stop to our destination we had to stop once. The engine seemed to have a problem. He got out, opened the hood and started fiddling with something. 5 minutes later we could continue.

Our destination in Tarma was the house of the grandmother of my friends. They are simple farmers. It was too late to notice anything. We entered the house, shook some hands and went straight to bed. The only thing I noticed was that we used 5 blankets to compensate for the fact that there is no heating in this house.

The next morning we got up early. The room had a stack of blankets, enough to keep a whole family warm. The house had a courtyard in the center. One and a half side of the courtyard was formed by the living quarters, half a side by a tiny barn, another part by the restroom and sinks, and the rest by a wall. We went downstairs do perform our morning toilet in the courtyard. Hot water is not available in this house of this simple family. The restrooms are Asian-style. That is without toilet seat and just a hole in the ground leading to the canalization. The air was chilly, the water too. But the sun was up and strong. After washing my face I just put myself in the sun to soak up a few rays to slowly get warm. The animals kept in the barn were sheep and guinea pigs. The sheep wore a red cloth belt around their neck, a tradition in parts of Peru. The guinea pigs are a tradition too, they make a traditional meal.

Slowly we got to meet the family. Three generations. Everyone seemed to gather in a sunny spot in the courtyard. Lots of handshaking, lots of kissing on the cheek. It was cold and I was looking forward to the hot breakfast. We had everything your heart could desire; bread, butter, coffee and tea. The coffee was interesting. Instead of having coffee or instant powder coffee, a small can of liquid coffee concentrate was on the table. You pour some coffee concentrate in your cup, add hot water and if you care some milk. If felt good to have something warm in your stomach.

The Central Highlands are known for having bitter cold nights and warm pleasant days. You can catch a sun burn during the day, while the night is chilling to the bones. Tarma lies in the center of the highlands and is lovingly called "Pearl of the Andes". Tarma has history, 461 years since the Spanish came here. Tarma doesn't have anything special. Its charm is that it is still small, that it has good food like various sweets, honey and "manjar blanco" and that it has a nice countryside. It is a calm and friendly town with sufficient infrastructure and nearby places to make it worth to spend a few days. For the National Holiday they have a full week of fiestas. As part of the celebrations they also completed a drinking water project in a suburb and brought electricity to another. The city had scheduled a full program of activities for the whole week.

With the breakfast in our stomach we strolled to the town center. Like any town square it had a church on one side and the city hall on the other. People were lined up at the city hall to obtain their start numbers for a race to the top of a nearby hill. I was tempted to join, but we already had plans for the day and it was better to stay with the group of friends. I admired the Peruvian runners though. Everyone had old worn-out jogging shoes and they had to face a steep, very rocky trail to the top of the hill.

The destination today for all of us and various relatives of my friends is the caves of Guagapo (Huagapo). They are about an hour drive on dirt roads from Tarma. The ride there was a nice way to see the countryside. While being thoroughly shaken by the car on the dirt road I could watch the farmers doing their work and watch the vegetation. It is so different from Lima. The villages are tiny, just a few houses sometimes. The landscape is green. I had not seen green for a while, so it was a pleasure to my eye. Hills, little streams, farm animals and dark brown rich soil that was being planted by the farmers.

After an hour we reached the caves. Right next to them are small cascading waterfalls and when we saw various parked cars it was obvious that we had reached our destination. The caves are large. Nobody has ever reached an end. But so far multiple international and local teams have tried. The farthest they got so far was 2,800 yards. At the entrance people were picnicking and kids tried to sell Inca Kola, water, and batteries for your flashlight. We hired a guide to enter. The cave carries a little bit of water, a tiny creek. The guide was necessary because without rope and flashlight one would not make it far, very quickly there are steep slopes, undoable without rope. While there is literally no light with the group of local tourists and the sea of flashlights, lighting is no issue. The fun part is the climbing of various rocks. The soil is limestone, kind of sandy. After about 500 yards we had reached the end of the guided tour. The trail of course continues and continues to be reasonable easy. The guide, however, refused to continue and came with lame excuses of not having a rope. No rope? Excuse me. And what is that thing that we used to get here? What is that thing that you are holding in your hand? The guide clearly had no desire to continue. After a couple of tries to verbally convince her I gave up.

On the way back we stopped in a tiny village to indulge in a festive meal in the market square. To celebrate the National Holiday farmers were selling "pachamanca", roasted pig. Together with potatoes and beans a delightful meal. Finger-licking good. Well, you had to lick your fingers as there was no fork and knife. The family who sold the pachamanca sat on the floor, the mother cut pieces of the whole pig with a large knife, the kids added a handful of potatoes and vegetables, the men collected the money, other family members cleaned the plastic plates and the youngest kids ran around the square to collect the plates again from the people who had finished their meal. The whole village has gathered in the square. People were selling their ware from toys to cloths, but nothing of special interest. A music brass band played in the center and most men stood around chatting and drinking beer. Relaxing.

Pachamanca is the dish a whole pig is roasted under ground. The pig is prepared and wrapped in leaves. A big hole is dug in the ground filled partially with hot stones taken from a fire. The wrapped pig is placed on top and thereafter the hole is covered with soil. Hours later the pig is ready and carved to satisfy many hungry stomachs, sometime for several days. The whole way of preparing the pig is not uncommon in other cultures. The Hawaiian prepare pig the same way.

At night we put on all our clothing, multiple layers of sweaters and a scarf, and went to the Tarma town square. At 9 p.m. the highlight was of the weeklong activities started, and it started even on time. Like on the 4th of July in the US, Peru has the same tradition, to celebrate the national holiday with a firework. I found it funny that the official name of the firework was "Festival de Fuego Artificiales Tipo Disney World" (Firework Festival of type Disney World). It seemed important to point out that the firework was like in Disneyworld. The firework consisted of multiple elements. It started with men wearing a large wooden harness in the form of a bull. Attached to the harness were rotating fireworks. Three or four of these fire-sparkling creatures forced their way through the crowds. The square was packed; there was no empty room to stand. We were standing like sardines in a can. But when these fire-spewing "bulls" came close people managed to jump aside to make way for these creatures.

After this portion, which reminded me of a symbolic bullfight, finished they ignited the fireworks on a wooden construction. A 10-yard tall tower was constructed with bamboo sticks. At the various levels fireworks were attached. Slowly the fireworks worked their way from the bottom to the top. Most of them were turning spirals. Parts of the wood started to burn as well. Even better we thought. At the end when the fireworks reached to top level, a wheel on the peak started spinning and took off flying 20 yards like a well-lit saucer through the night sky. As part of the tower also burned the tower became unstable. In additional with all the people pushing, it started to move and bend. I was seriously afraid that the 10-yard tower would topple and fall. While I was mentally getting ready to escape should it fall in my direction, nothing happened, it remained stable enough to survive a few more hours.

Following a few announcements blasted with loudspeakers all over the square, the next firework started at the church. It was a waterfall of sparks, like a waterfall of white light that spread from one church tower to the other. Bright and fascinating in its simple movement. The crown of the firework was a traditional firework in the night sky. And to make sure that everyone knew who sponsored the firework they had a firework spelling out the letters "Cemento Andino" on the roof of the largest hotel on the town square.

The next morning we left Tarma and when we came back three days later at night, we found Tarma just like we have left it. Full. The town square was still jam-packed. While in one corner a modern band was playing, in the other folklore music was played. Despite, or maybe because of the freezing temperatures, we danced "huayno" with the crowd in front of the folklore band. People seemed pretty cheerful. A gringo was here with his mother from Wisconsin and his Peruvian wife on their honeymoon. A few more other people were drunk and started talking to me. Naturally I didn't understand anything but that didn't keep them from continuing to talk to me and pushing me to take a sip from their bottle. I resisted the bottle but my energy into dancing. We actually worked up some sweat dancing like crazy. It was good fun, pretty wild as far as dancing goes.

On the Way to San Ramón and La Merced

With an organized tour we took a bus from Tarma to San Ramón and La Merced. The tour was funny. The first stop was at a hotel, which supposedly had some historical value, but the hotel owner more or less asked us to leave the property before we could get out of the bus. During the ride the guide told us some stories that didn't make sense. But we didn't come to hear profound insights into flora and fauna. The only stop of real interest that the bus made was near San Ramon at the Tirol Waterfalls. The entrance ticket calls them "Catarata del Tirol, Puerta de Oro de la Selva Central", the Golden Door to the Central Rainforest. I like these sounding descriptive names. Sometimes the places live up to the long vivid and explanatory names. Sometimes. Other times it is an empty promise that is never fulfilled. The trail leads from a dirt road for a bit more than a mile along a small stream gently uphill through a rainforest. At the end of the trail are the waterfalls. The surrounding rainforest is a rainforest, but it is not like you see it in the movies, not like in Iquitos, not like in Hawaii. The rainforest in the Selva Central is more moderate, less dense, and able to deal with colder temperatures.

The falls were of course named after that lovely district in the Austrian Alps. The Peruvian "Alps" were close, but the 2-hour bus ride into the lower elevations of the Selva Central made a big difference. It was warm; wearing a T-shirt was sufficient. The trail was dry for the most part. Little bridges, well, wooden logs crossed the river and we switched numerous times from one side to the other. At the end of the trail were the falls. After walking in the shade of the forest we stepped out into the opening of the falls. The sky was blue without a single cloud. The sun was shining. The wrapped present was so to speak unwrapped at this moment. The clearing in the forest, the sunshine, and in the center of the attention: the waterfall. The falls were crawling with people, mostly local tourists but also some foreigners. In the sunshine the water looked so pure and inviting. Cliffs, some 50 feet high, are the basis for the waterfall. The amount of water now was moderate. It was enough though to form a 15 to 30 feet wide curtain. Enough also to slam you against a rock and break your bones. At the bottom of the falls was a small pond and following downstream was a shallow riverbed with coarse sand.

We put on our bathing pants and swim suits and stepped into the shower. The water was chilly - as expected. After a short cold and refreshing backrub from the falls we sat down in the shallow ponds at a sandy portion of the river. While the sun felt good in our faces our feet slowly started to freeze in the water. After a relaxing half an hour we hiked the same way back as we entered.

Shortly thereafter the bus reached La Merced. It is a typical village. A town square with church, hotel and bars. It was easy to see that festivities were planned. A stage was prepared, some roads were closed off for traffic, more advertising than usual was placed on banners and it was impossible to find a hotel that had room for us four. After an hour of search and asking at a dozen hotels, we eventually found two rooms in two different hotels. At one end of the town a river forms the border, at the other end a hill. The hill is peaked with a cross that is visible from nearly everywhere in the village. I am not sure but its name might be "Mirador de la Cruz". In the late afternoon hours there is not much to do in such a small town. With little to do one of my friends and I decided to climb the hill to get a bird's eye view of the city.

The Dog that Changed my Life

The view covered nearly the complete town and showed also the forest and coffee plantations encircling the urban center. It was getting dark as we strolled back. While strolling downhill in the semi-darkness, out of nowhere, well out of the bushes lining the street, a small dog appeared and without any indication this small dog that barked a lot and jumped around like crazy bit me in the leg. As quickly as it had appeared it disappeared. The whole thing lasted 5 or 6 seconds and I was standing there flabbergasted and surprised and unable to react. These 5 seconds were to change the next 3 months. It was not my lucky day. The bit was very superficial. It was a mere scratch of the skin. It was really nothing, but for less than half an inch the skin was sufficiently scratched to show a wee bit of blood. To tranquilize my nerves my friends took me to the hospital and where they disinfected the area. The doctors informed us that here in this area rabies is possible, that the number of cases is small but that rabies does exist. They also informed us that I have a few days to react, that immediate medical attention is not necessary but that I should visit a hospital for medical advice once I am back in Lima after this weekend. Now I was more nervous than before.

Later at night I phoned a European friend that later should become my girlfriend and told her what had happened. She told me to stay calm and that she would inform herself and that I should call her again the next day. 24 hours later she was an expert in rabies. What a friend. She read all sorts of articles on the Internet, went to a doctor, etc. There are only two countries with rabies, and Peru is one of them. Lucky me. She also informed me that if someone catches rabies and is not vaccinated the person will die with certainty. If you have rabies, it is not just possible that you die, you will die for sure. Hence it is important to get vaccinated. There are various types of vaccinations. Older forms of vaccinations that were used a few years ago have shown to result in brain damage as a side effect in a small percentage of the patients. Hence, newer drugs have been developed and she gave me the name of this newer drug.

I realized that this was no joking matter. Three days later, back in Lima, I went to a private hospital to consult a doctor there. He more or less told me things that coincided with what my friend had told me over the phone. To make things worse the vaccination had to be administered via injection five times, at exact intervals spread over 3 months, and with exactly the same drug. If that is not enough, the drug had to be kept at exactly freezing temperature. That is all very nice if you live always in the same place and don't move around. But this was a major headache for me. To start out with, this vaccine was very difficult to find in Lima. From that I concluded correctly that this vaccine is not sold anywhere in Peru outside of Lima. For most part dog bites are not treated in Peru. The probability that the dog is infected is not so high, so unless it is a serious bite Peruvians don't do anything. Lima, however, has a Center of Rabies. The existence of this center by itself, however, indicates that rabies occurs. In this center and in most hospital only the old and cheaper vaccine -- the one that potentially causes brain damage -- is available. On one occasion, I spent two or three hours driving with the taxi through Lima from pharmacy to pharmacy, from hospital to hospital, to try in vain to find the new type of the vaccine. I had to give up and continue the search the next day.

I was also traveling a lot. The first thing was to buy a portable ice chest. On one occasion I traveled to Puno and Cusco. I had to buy the drug in Lima before departure, place it in the ice chest and then carry the ice chest wherever we went. But carrying it around all the time, from city to city was not enough, I had to protect it from sunshine and heat in general and always assure that the temperature was around zero degrees. Sometimes I had to ask in restaurants to store the container next to the Coca Cola bottles in their fridge over night because there was no fridge in the hotel. On the given days I went to any local hospital with the vaccine that already included the syringe and just asked the doctor to inject it in my arm.

On another occasion I was on a business trip to Portugal. Since I couldn't be sure to be able to find the exactly same drug in Europe, I had to buy the vaccine again in Lima and to take it on plane rides from Lima to Madrid, from Madrid to Bilbao, and from Bilbao to Portugal. For many days the ice chest was my best friend, on airports, in airliners, in hotel rooms, etc. In the hotel rooms I usually emptied the mini bar to place my all-too-precious vaccine container in it.

The doctors in Portugal also looked quite suspicious as I asked them to inject me with this self-brought vaccine. After some explanation I could convince them to go ahead and do it. But it most likely was against all regulations. I was just very happy when I had received the last instance of the vaccination and it was all over. I even live to tell the tale.

Fiestas in La Merced

Now that I have drifted off into the dog tale, let's get back to the Peruvian Central Jungle. La Merced and San Ramon are neighboring towns that are just 7 miles apart. When we left the hospital in La Merced we thought we should forget the dog bite as quickly as possible and went to a bar with live music. To change of scenery and to see San Ramon we decided to head there and see what the nightlife is like in the neighbor town. It wasn't much different. We went to a disco. It was a large building and well visited, not to say crowded. On one side was an open veranda and during the dance breaks I went here to look at the nearby rain forest, the reflection of the moon on the jungle and the shimmering stars above.

The next night we spent in La Merced. La Merced was the bigger town of the too and hence also the celebrations were bigger here. Like many other places La Merced was in the midst of its 4-day festival. The party went on and on with nightly shows and a lot of drinking. One of the highlights for me was an official parade. Music was played in the market square, too loud as always in Peru. The square was jam-packed. Folklore performances put fire in the heart of the people. Every folklore group circled the small market square once on the adjacent streets. The crowd went wild occasionally and cheered for the performers. A special highlight of that particular night was the performance of a group of Indians from a near-by village. These were Indians of the type that wear imaginative head ornaments made of features and they carried their festive set of arc and arrows. These are the Indians that live in the surrounding rain forest and are culturally and ethnically similar with the Indians that live in the Amazon area.

They performed an ecstatic dance and my friends animated me to dance with them. Being pushed for a while I gave in and joined the Indians in their euphoric dance. I can't dance as well as they can but for a few moments I had as much fun as they had. I have to ask my friends if they still have a photo that captured that moment.

At 1 a.m. we called it quits. It was a long day and I was tired. The activities were still on going, above all the activity of drinking. Our room was in a hotel facing the market square. From the room we could hear the music just as well as from the market square. It was difficult to rest. We tried our best to find some sleep despite the high noise level. I also remember that that it was quite hot and humid. Ever seen the movie "In the Heat of the Night"? That's how it felt, just with the added Peruvian music. What a change to the chilly nights before in the Sierra Central.

Day Trip to Bayos Waterfalls

We all booked a day-trip tour to the Bayos Waterfalls. The tour was very rustic. A small minivan drove us to a drop-off point next to the Perene River not far from the Perene village. Here the rustic point started. From here on it was a 3-hour walk uphill into a side valley of the Perene River. This is rain forest and portions of it have been converted into citrus plantations. We walked on a very rough dirt road with a guide. To both sides were primarily orange trees and in the distance a dense green of the rainforest.

By chance a large truck of orange pickers passed by and we stopped it and got on. The ride was bone shaking. We had to hold on tight not to stumble. We also had to watch the trees. We had to duck quickly if we didn't want to lose an eye or our head as low branches of the trees whipped the top of the truck. A friend and myself actually preferred hiking through this nice area than being taken to the falls like lazy tourists. We asked the guides where the falls are and if they are easy to find. His answer was "You can't miss them. Always straight ahead. ('De frente no mas.') You will see them on your right hand side. There is a house, it's the first one, make a right turn there." We double-checked by asking if he was sure. "Of course I am sure. They are very easy to find." We told the rest of our friends that we would walk and that we would seem them later at the falls and then we jumped off the back of the truck.

It was a nice hike on a beautiful sunny day. Except for the directions from the guide everything was fine. We didn't find the house or shack where we were supposed to make a right turn. We were already making fun of the words of the guide when we spotted a shack around a corner. Animated again, we followed the tiny trail that went downhill behind the shack. But within minutes it disappeared, as it was only a trail used by the orange pickers. We still continued downhill but soon reached cliffs and thorny bushes that were unsurpassable. We had no choice but to turn around and hike back to the dirt road and try our luck there again. 20 minutes later we spotted two or three small pickup trucks parked alongside the road. Clearly we had stumbled onto something. We talked to the people we met on the trail who informed us that there are waterfalls. Surprisingly though they were on the left of the road, not on the right hand side as stated by the guide. However, the guide also said that at the first house we have to turn right which was wrong. So it was better to ignore his opinion altogether.

Another 20 minutes away from the road, passing through the rainforest along the riverbed a small trail led us to stunning waterfalls. Quite a few people were here visiting the falls. We watched out for our friends, but none of them was to be spotted. Two swimming pools had formed on the bottom of the falls. One was more downstream where nearly everyone was hanging out. On one side the border of the pool was formed by 3 to 5 yard vertical cliffs. The kids climbed the cliffs on a rope that someone had left there permanently. Once on top they jumped into the pool from above. The kids were screaming with delight and to impress their families.

My friend and I went to the upper pool. The water fell nearly into the center of it. It was surrounded by large boulders with steep walls to both sides. The walls were covered in vegetation and looked too steep to climb. Our friends were not here but we had walked too long in the hot sun to not take advantage of this enticing pool. We jumped in and swam a few tiny laps in the refreshing cool wet. Thereafter we put ourselves beneath the waterfall. It was a rough massage as the water hammered down on our backs. We had to put our hands on our upper legs to support the back and to avoid being kicked over altogether by the powerful vertical stream. As you can image we enjoyed the offering thoroughly. All good things have an end though and we still had to find our friends.

We started talking to the people to see if there are more waterfalls nearby. Having spoken to half a dozen locals we concluded that there are more falls further on the dirt road. Another 40 minutes later we found a house on the right hand side. That must have been the house the guide was talking about. Sure enough. We found an obvious trail starting there. The falls were nowhere to see but the whole set-up matched the description precisely, we were finally on the right track. This trail was a pure jungle trail. While nobody was on it there were plenty of signs that it was frequently used. This way we at least wouldn't lose the trail. It was downhill all the way and in some areas it was so steep that short pieces had to be climbed down vertically. For the most part we had to lower ourselves using roots of trees or tree branches. Being a rainforest the soil was wet, muddy and slippery. With the sneakers completely wet and muddy it was actually impossible making it downhill without having to use your hands. The roots and branches were our saviors.

Finally we made it to the bottom of a small valley. We got greeted by the warm smiles of our friends. At last we had met up again. It was a charming little valley. It not only had a waterfall to offer, but also the stream that formed at its foot. The river had some sand banks on both sides and also in the middle where we dropped our backpacks. The most interesting of all though was to swim along the river. Wherever it widened it was very shallow and one could walk through it. On occasions though it wedged its way through rocks carving a canyon. Here in these short canyons the walls were vertical and smoothly polished by the water. All rocks were buffed by the sandpaper of time. One could slide down the wet rocks in the stream or sit comfortably in one of the tiny bathing tubs and receive a massage. In other words, it was a water playground.

It was getting very late. Hiking the way up this steep jungle trail was fun again. Slipping and sliding. It was even worse for the people who had come in slippers, but jointly as a group we managed. It was dark when we reached the house at the dirt road. From here it was another 2-hours of walking back to the paved road, but it was 2 pleasant hours listening to the nightly sounds of the rainforest and the barking dogs in the distance.

Day Trip into Perene Valley

From our base in La Merced one of the friends in our group and myself started on another day trip into the Perene Valley. It was an organized trip with six other people and a guide joining us. It started quite boring with a look at the Kimiri Bridge which is nothing more than a modern hanging bridge made of steel cables and wooden planks, but large enough to lead cars across the Perene River. Our second stop was near Reiter Bridge in a large restaurant that also acted as a shop of tourist items. Indians also come to this restaurant and road intersection to sell their handcrafted goods.

Not far from here, a bit more downstream, we visited an Indian village. Its official name is Comunidad Nativa de Pampa Michi, or CC.NN. Pampa Michi for short. The visit of this village was too commercial to be enjoyed. The Indians, especially the kids, were expecting the visit. One of the elders gave a welcome speech in his proper language, which was translated by the guide, and then we were allowed to stroll the village and were offered their goods to buy. The kids were begging for candy and from the looks of the empty candy wrappers on the ground it appeared that many tourists gladly responded to their demands. It was so extreme that I was afraid that candy formed their main caloric intake. I was ashamed. The village consisted of several dozen huts made of wood and straw. In a community hut an able Indian showed us his art of imitating birds. Only with his mouth and his fingers he could create the most convincing bird chirping. Overall though I felt awkward and a bit out of place in this village. Get me out of here please.

After the poor start of the day it got better though. Even further downstream we switched transportation from minivan to canoe. Two long and narrow canoes with engines carried us down the river to a small village. Perene River has its origin in the Central Sierra and many miles further on flows into the Amazon. The village was tiny and was right on the riverbank. It consisted only of a few cafes and stores selling oranges and bananas. It might have been called Puerto del Rio, Puerto Ubiriki or Puerto Pichanaki. I can't recall. We relaxed there, had a drink and some bananas. While the kids were swimming in the river, I preferred to stay out. It didn't look clean enough; especially since some locals had parked their car in a shallow spot of the river to wash it. It was also interesting to see four small fires in the vicinity. This seems to be part of the agricultural process. The smoke of the fires was also passing by our village and destroying the fresh air.

The trip continued by bus again. We crossed the Perene River and advanced on rough dirt roads. The guide explained that we would visit two original Indian villages. This time around it was a lot more interesting than the first tourist trap in the morning.

Both villages were native communities (Comunidades Nativas or CC.NN.) and one of the two villages was called CC.NN. Marankiari. The Indians that live in this region, which is officially considered part of "Amazonia", is the Ashaninka tribe. In the Ashaninka language Marankiari means "Land of the Snakes". The Ashaninkas dressed like regular Peruvian farmers in the rainforest. In other words they wore old T-shirts and shorts and nothing else. No shoes. In the first village we had to wait until we found someone to talk to. The indigenous Indian explained to us that 28 people live in this village; I assumed that they formed one large family. In the center of the village was a lawn forming a square. Rectangular huts surrounded this lawn. I had a glance inside one of the huts because the entrance was open and it seemed to be vacant. From what I could see live here is not comfortable. There was very little in the hut. An earthen floor, a coarse wooden chair, and a bed. The bed was small and only consisted of wooden boards with a bit of straw put on top. I didn't see any blankets or anything soft. But they did have TV. I just saw a TV antenna on the roof of a hut, so I concluded that they must have electricity and TV. Nonetheless it must be a meager living.

The people living here are all farmers and work in the fields. It was obvious. All surrounding hills had been transformed from rainforest into banana and orange plantations. He invited us to a drink. We kind of stuttered "yes" with some hesitation. He went of and some old woman appeared. Then he came back with a gunnysack full of oranges and coconuts. Both he and the old woman started to prepare the drink now. They grabbed an old large plastic bucket, one that might hold 2.5 gallons of paint. They quickly gave it a rinse in the open community water storage container. While she cut the oranges and squeezed them into the bucket by hand, he used a machete to open the coconuts. The coconut juice he poured into the bucket and the pieces of the shells with the white flesh he threw in our direction so we could catch them and eat the coconut flesh. At the end the woman put her hand in the bucket and mixed it all well with her hands. Then she reached us the bucket. It was a very nice and kind gesture, but somehow I had lost the appetite. It is not their fault that my stomach and defensive system is weak. I focused on the coconuts and also drank some coconut juice directly from the nut and went easy on the juice. It was delicious juice, but I was just too afraid.

Talking with them they told us that in the nearby village they are preparing for a celebration. In a few minutes we could reach the neighboring village. The people there told us that the village is formed by a total of 60 people. It was bigger than the first village but of identical design. The lawn square in the center was bigger such that more huts could surround it. The largest hut was the community hut. We entered it with one of the indigenous Indians. The hut was large, maybe 20 yards long and the roof was 5 yards above the ground. There were no separations; it was just one big open area, like a loft. The floor was as expected compacted soil. The hut was completely empty except for one thing. In one corner close to a door was a big wooden trough. There were no chairs, no tables in this hut. Four or five women were sitting around the through and we walked closer. It was filled with fermented yucca. It was a gray mass. In some areas green and white mould was floating on top. The woman grabbed small portions of the already partially fermented yucca, put them in their mouth, chewed them a bit and then spit them into the through. The sugar in the saliva and the starch in the yucca root cause the fermentation and create alcohol. The process takes a few days. These were the final preparations they explained to us. The alcoholic drink would be ready in sufficient quantity tomorrow night for the fiesta. The drink is called "masato". Being special guests we were offered some. The Indian passed two small plastic bowl to a woman who gathered some liquid from the through in the bowls. The bowls were then passed to us. Bon apetit! The brew was stronger than I thought. We all were standing in a circle, and the bowls made rounds. I had to try too of course. One doesn't often get the chance to drink hand-made masato. Another memorable moment.

After sunset we started our return trip. Once again we had to cross Perene River. At this spot though the river was wide and there was no regular bridge. Instead there was a bridge taken right out of an Indiana Jones movie. Several inch thick metal ropes crossed the river at a height of maybe 15 yards. Connected to these ropes was a large open container, or better said a framework of an open container. It was night already so the driver flashed his lights a few times and honked the horn. Slowly this container made it from the other side to ours. It was made of iron and wood and it was swinging under its own weight and the wind or the movement of the cables. Carefully the minivan drove onto this container. Nobody wanted to get onto the container with the car. We didn't have guts enough. We preferred to pay a second time and cross the river separately from the minivan. So, on the second trip we got on. We could see the river below us in the openings of the container and we had to be careful not to hold on to the wrong cables. You don't want to hold on to the cables that move. Despite a little bit of swinging and feeling dizzy we all made it safely to the other side, and from there it was an easy ride back to La Merced.

Returning from La Merced to Lima

The bus ride from La Merced to Tarma was noteworthy, maybe even memorable. To start with after everyone piled into the bus and the bus was ready to leave, nothing happened. For whatever reason the bus didn't leave. It was full, it was hot and humid as we were in a jungle town and being squeezed into the bus with many other people and lots of luggage we started to sweat profoundly. After half an hour even the Peruvians -- that are usually so stoic -- started to complain. Finally we left. But the fun didn't last long. We only drove 15 minutes when we arrived in San Ramon and had to wait another 30 minutes in the bus station there. Eventually we left San Ramon, but again after 15 minutes we stopped in the middle of the road. This time it was a police control. It took 45 minutes to inspect the driver and the passengers. By now 2 hours 15 minutes had passed but we only had driven for 30 minutes. The engine went hot and the bus had broken down completely now. We all had to got off the bus. We were all standing on the street and we got nervous. We had another bus to catch in Tarma. If we were to miss that we wouldn't be able to make it to Lima today. Drastic situations call for drastic measures. We started thumbing the traffic down and we had luck. Within 5 minutes a bus stopped and we got on before the driver changed his mind. We made it to Tarma literally just 5 minutes before the departure of the bus Tarma-Lima. For a change I had luck. With the heavy backpacks we ran from the arriving bus to the departing bus. We only had time for a very quick handshake and goodbye to our friends in Tarma and five hours later without any additional surprises we reached Lima. The eventful long weekend had ended.

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Travel with Manfred