Sometimes a travel story writes itself. This one did not. What was meant to be a story about the Amazon, turned into a sombre tale of homesickness and heartache. This is thicker than mosquitos, five years in the making.
In 2019, I was in Bogota, the capital of Colombia. Cafes, museums, and the surrounding ever-clouded mountains seemed to define this capital.
In a short time, Bogota came to feel like a second home. I needed it to be. I was deeply homesick. Worse still, I was falling in love. Unfortunately, the significant other was sixteen thousand kilometres away in Katherine, Australia.
I had always wanted to visit the Amazonas. This was my third trip to South America and I had never made it far west of the Andes. In Colombia, I figured this was my opportunity.
A few weeks later, I flew to Leticia, a provincial backwater in the southeast corner of Colombia, bordering Brazil and Peru. To my surprise, Leticia was not the tourist mecca I had expected. No one spoke English and there were only a handful of accommodation options.
I checked myself into a hotel after walking in from the airport through thick humidity. I found a well-worn Lonely Planet book. I quickly flipped through the pages for Leticia. It read - “In Leticia there are no angels. Corruption, drug running, sex trafficking, and violence are as thick as the mud banks of the river surrounding it. Find a guide and go with your gut”.
After days of walking around town and talking to different people, I followed the Lonely Planet’s advice and went with my gut. The following day, I took a speedboat down the Amazon River. Along with the captain, I was joined by four other gringos and some locals heading home.
The Floridian man next to me tells a story of the time he lost 40kg in a month after picking up a mosquito-borne infection not far from here. This worried me as I couldn’t remember if I had my Yellow Fever vaccination. Instinctively, I rolled down my sleeves and hoped for the best.
Evidence of rapid deforestation was everywhere. Our boat dodged an endless stream of logs floating down the river. After a few hours, I disembarked in a small Indigenous community by the river. To the other gringos surprise, I’m the only one getting off.
I was greeted by my local Yaguan guide – Sergio. He is wearing a Brazilian football jersey with a large machete in hand. We communicated in his third language, Spanish.
He takes me fishing for piranha in his dugout canoe, we paddle upriver to watch a pod of freshwater pink dolphins, and we visit a neighbouring community across the river in Peru. He shows me sloths, jaguars, and anacondas – all kept as pets. He advises me to take lots of photos of the pet Anaconda as it ‘will make my friends want to come visit’.
Later that day, we set our hammocks between trees and made a small fire to cook dinner. As night arrived, glow-in-the-dark leaves covered the forest floor and the sound of the jungle intensified.
Laying in that little hammock, I thought of home and the woman I had been dating only a few weeks before I left. At this moment, I decided to return home.
The next morning, we walked back to the community. The houses were made from logs and leaves, yet kids were still running around in Mickey Mouse t-shirts. A collision between worlds. An Amazonian juxtaposition.
I get painted up with red ochre from a native berry. Whilst the Yagua were welcoming, I got the sense they were unsure about my presence in their community.
I was picked up by the same boat that dropped me off. Sergio and I say our farewells on the small wooden jetty. The other gringos in the boat stare at me like I was a real-life Tom Hanks in Castaway.
I had weeks of travel ahead of me to get to Katherine. Leticia to Bogota, Bogota to Lima, Lima to Santiago. Santiago to Auckland, Auckland to Melbourne to 2,500km through the Red Center. Only to find myself in the Leticia of my own country, Katherine. Indigenous Communities, strong languages, expansive landscapes. Crocodiles instead of caymans. The Outback instead of the Amazonas; and all for a woman I dated a few weeks before I left.
Love is thicker than mosquitoes.
