Reverb: Wonder.

Soaked by my own sweat in the thick humid jungle air I pressed myself on a railing staring out at the mighty Amazon river. Dumbstruck that somehow I went early springtime of Western Canada to the late summer on the edge of the Amazon Rainforest within a day.

There are no words for being on the edge of a natural wonder. Well there are some like "spectacular," "breathtaking," "stunning," "astonishing," and "magnificent" but I'd sound like one of those douche bag travel writers I go on about not liking.

Nothing comes close to the feeling. Somehow I felt like it wasn't real. I knew this wasn't a dream because my creaking air condition from my bedroom would be in the background and not the droning buzz of millions of insects in the trees below.

I'd seen the Amazon on television and I never really expected to see it in real life. Somehow it still didn't feel real. Thinking I'd fallen asleep in front of a television again reached out to see if it was a cold glass screen. Nothing. Just more damp jungle air. I was somewhere real.

With that realization the moment was broken by an overbearing but genuinely friendly local  trying to sell me his less than authentic homemade jewelry.

Day 1: Trip.

Hands down my best trip of the year was getting sent to Peru for work. I might grippe about it being a couple days and how much time I spent in the air and jet lagged but come on who gets sent to Peru to deliver vital helicopter parts? I'm sure I could go on about my short trip to Peru but as an avid follower of this blog I know you have read my "Adventures in..." series already. So I put up a picture instead.

It's kind of amazing looking back at the opportunities the company gave me over the years to travel around British Columbia, the States, and well Peru over the last 3 years. I'm kind of sad that might be over but that means I'm on to bigger and better adventures in my life.  

Adventures in...

Peru: Part Five.

Coming into Lima's international airport you fly over a sprawling shanty town. There is a clear divide between the rich and poor in this country. I'll tell you it isn't the rich people sitting in those slot machine casinos I'd eventually see everywhere in Lima. Or the children who harassed us trying to sell us gum all night while we sat at the bar. It is a depressing fact you see pretty much almost everywhere across the world.

I collect my luggage and as soon as I'm through the Arrivals gate I'm surrounded by taxi drivers. It has been suggested by co-workers to take the Green Taxi's because they are the most reliable, cleanest cars, and generally honest. As I'm shown to a decent looking Merc by my driver I'm still being harassed and pulled by other drivers from other companies. I guess driving a fat white guy around is big business. The driver makes small talk and plays Spanish pop music while he fights traffic so thick and confusing it would make me crack. I reply as well as I can and just stare out the window at this alien city.

It seems like the Grand Road Works of Peru is women sweeping the sand off the roads. I first noticed it when I arrived in Iquitos in Alfred's moto-taxi and my wandering around the hotel area. It seems now that I'm in Lima these ladies get uniforms and special corn brooms unlike the seemingly isolated people of Lima.

I check into my hotel. I take a shower. I call the company's office in Lima. I meet up with another co-worker and go to the office. We small talk. I do a few things. I make my way back towards the hotel. I explore three blocks around the hotel and realize I haven't eaten since my plane ride from Toronto to Lima just drank beers, water, and Coke.

The hotel restaurant is on the floor above my room. It has a pretty decent view of this area of the city. I order a Coke, some mozzarella sticks and guacamole, and the most amazing veggie sandwich I've ever had in my life. I'm the only person in the restaurant. So I'm the only person who is forced to succumb to the eccentric staff and more terrible Spanish pop.

I explore the neighbourhood a little more but eventually come back to my room to take a nap. When I wake up I turn on the BBC because it seems to be the only channel in English. I'm not complaining it was exactly what I needed to watch. Unaware of what was going on in the world apart from the pictures in the Lima newspaper in my room. Eventually I repack my bags while watching 'Borat' which is in English and call for a taxi to the airport.

This taxi cab driver is fair bit more talkative than my last cab driver. I humour him and he plays english music from the 60's mixed with the crappy pop of the mid 90's. I finally make it to the airport after hearing his life story and him telling me I'm getting to old to be a bachelor. That I should really get married and have children. He seems displeased when I say I don't really want to do those things.

Once checked in, paying a ridiculous airport fee of $30, and going through security. I settle into a seat near my gate. Talk to some Canadian backpackers (one who will be on every one of my flights back to Victoria because she is from Nanaimo). Look at Duty Free and board the plane.

I sit in the emergency exit row back to Toronto and all the stewardesses know me from my trip down two days earlier. They are amazed at my turn around and bring me all sorts of treats throughout the flight just because.

I eventually fall asleep for about 15 minutes somewhere over the Gulf of Mexico. This is the life.

Adventures in...

Peru: Part Four.

Alfred is waiting in the lobby when I finally stroll out of my room to check out. It's just as dark out as it was when I wandered back to the hotel a couple hours ago. The slot machine casino across the street is just as busy and full of stale cigarette smoke as it was yesterday afternoon. I could really use a beer to get rid of this nagging headache. I'm sure it has something to do with all the beers last night and the lack of sleep over the last couple days.

Eventually I throw my backpack in the back of Alfred's moto-taxi and he kicks the engine to life. He's on a mission it seems. We are going as fast as his moto-taxi will take us. At least this morning I'm wearing my glasses to keep the sand from flying in my eyes. The streets of Iquitos are starting to come to life with the rising sun and heat. The fruit vendors are setting up and the stray dogs are already begging for scraps.

When we finally get to the airport I settle my tab with Alfred and wish him the best. Inside the airport I check in and in no time flat befriend some lady German backpackers who assume I'm a backpacker and not working. We drink some Cokes and make the meaningless chit chat you learn when you are backpacking. "Where are you from? How long have you been away?" And other questions you ask to make temporary friends while you are on the road.

Thick cold smoke spills out of the plane. I'm relieved to find out it is only the air conditioning. We taxi down the runway I look out the window at the tarmac, jungle, and the company's helicopters sitting there.

By the time I can see the Amazon river and become mesmerized as I watch the world get further beneath us I've forgotten those German girls names.

Adventures in...

Peru: Part Three.


I can't sleep anymore. This pillow smells like someone else's head sweat and mildew. The air conditioner sounds like horses are kicking it and the fucking maid has knocked on my door twice. Despite the sign hanging off the doorknob that I assume is Spanish for "Do Not Disturb."

I'm awake, my teeth are brushed and I'm showered. Time to take on this foreign land with inquisitive eyes of well the Spanish Inquisition.

You can get to Iquitos by plane or taking a boat up the Amazon which makes Iquitos one of the largest cities in the world that can't be accessed by road. This obviously prevents some things from establishing themselves there. I didn't see any real evidence of corporate America splayed across the town apart from the MoneyTree-esq bank or two I saw.

When I finally decided to head out into the mid day sun I was quite surprised by the amount of people moving in the streets. In my quest to find something to eat I realized a majority of places were closed for a siesta. I never ended up finding a place to grab some food but I think after walking around Iquitos for a while it was the last thing I wanted to do.

Garbage on the streets and the smell of sewage filled my nostrils as I wandered aimlessly in the area near my hotel. Stray dogs hid in the shade or drank mystery water (I'm guessing it wasn't from the best source) and I got dirty looks from the locals.

As I made my way to Plaza de Armas I was surrounded. Being a fat white guy in South America is like dressing like a ghost at the Million Man March. You stand out and you become a target. A target to unload their handmade jewelry (with real crocodile teeth), cheesy tourist shirts, and other crap you see anytime you visit a foreign land. Constantly asked my name and where I'm from. Every sentence finished with "My Amigo" an age old technique I'm sure to lure a false sense of friendship before getting ripped off on souvenirs. I'm not one for souvenirs so these tactics don't usually work on me.

Eventually I made my way to the river but every time I turned around I was being harassed by guys trying to sell me crap or in two cases blow. Eventually it became to much when I couldn't even take a picture without a blurry head popping into the frame with the promise of the best and cheapest jewellery in Iquitos. So I made my way back to the Isabelle under the beating sun, Inca flags, and the barrage of moto-taxi drivers asking if I wanted a ride.

After spending the rest of my afternoon in a coma like nap. Travelling the way I did mixed with the heat and humidity really took it out of me. Eventually after the sun goes down I head down to a bar to meet up with some guys I know working down there. Our table spills out onto the sidewalk while Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" seems to be played on an endless loop at the karaoke bar next door. Eventually the bar we combats music blasting from the karaoke bar with some Pink Floyd which is answered by Darude and Prodigy. All this happens while we pour cold beer after beer and are harassed by kids trying to sell us gum, sunglasses, and cigarettes.  

After to many beers closing out the bar at midnight we head back to our respective hotels but not before a couple of the guys try to convince me to go to clubbing. I waffle from my plans of showering and getting more sleep but when things start to fall through I start heading back to Plaza de Armas. While the guys wait for a moto-taxi we a propositioned by some local prostitutes.

All I seem to make out is the words "mustache," "suck," and "dollars." Along with the international blowjob hand/ facial gesture I put two and two together and realize what is going on. I'm starting to think the Peruvians don't really understand "no" or "no thanks." They seem to be quite persistent.

Eventually I decide to ditch the guys and walk some of the beer out of my system. When I get to my room I discover the walls are paper thin. As I can hear the people fucking next door quite loudly. I fire up my ipod and try to get some sleep.

I do have to catch a flight to Lima in less than five hours.