I took a little walkabout this morning prior to my appointment with my driver, Sandro, who would take me to the unique Iquitos barrio of Belen later. I walked down the malecon, admiring architecture from the turn of the century (the 19th century) rubber boom era. Demand for Amazonian rubber from the jungle disappeared with the planting of Asian plantations. Now, though, the large city of Iquitos (pop. 500,000+) is enjoying another boom based on oil and--to a lesser, but still important, extent--tourism. Remnants of the rubber baron era include some fine old buildings adorned with azulejos, handmade Portuguese tiles.
Another noteworthy site in Iquitos is the Casa de Fierro. Designed by Gustav Eiffel and shipped from Paris to Iquitos, the casa is a silver-painted commercial building constructed of iron modules that were bolted together following their daunting voyage in the late 19th century.
(Left) Turn-of-the-century mansion on the malecon with characteristic azulejos tiles; (right) Gustav Eiffel's all-steel Casa de Fierro
I turned from the malecon towards the Plaza de Armas (GPS: 03 44.938S / 73 14.668S) and ran smack dab into a force of nature, Gerald Mayeaux, who is the proprietor of the Yellow Rose of Texas (Putumayo 180). This is one of the greatest sports bars anywhere, and may be the best University of Texas bar outside the Austin city limits.
Plaza de Armas and Iglesia de San Juan Bautista, Iquitos, Peru
A quintessential Texan, Gerald first went to Peru as a petroleum engineer, I think. He was educated at UT where he played centerfield for the Longhorns. His heritage shows, in a thousand unsubtle ways.
Gerald is a big guy who prowls the front of his great restaurant like a predator, greeting customers, regaleing them with stories on how he happened to be here, talkin´ Texas trash, intimidating his help. He´ll show you articles featuring his establishment from publications great and small, including Sports Illustrated. Is the beer cold? Hell, his beer is kept in a special cooler at something less than 0 degrees centigrade. Shore ´nuff, he had special thermal coolers manufactured from jungle wood to keep the beers ice cold. UT memorabilia large and small decorate YROT and must number in the thousands.
I had no intention of stopping anywhere for breakfast, but I fell into Gerald´s web. After getting a tour of the large, and expanding, facility, I decided to take a look at the menu. I could have fresh juice, real coffee, three pieces of good toast with preserves, and--scrawled on the menu--a free egg, all this for 5 soles (less than $2). I think it was the coffee that got me.
While waiting for my breakfast and recuperating from my encounter with Gerald, I took a look at the 13-page, double-sided menu. Let´s just say that he´s not achieved great success by focusing on any single cuisine niche. There´s Texas food, of course, BBQ and chili, but how about something from the jungle? You can order venison, alligator, and Amazon fish. Rather have a burrito or pizza? No problem. Did I mention that you could select from a long list of soups and salads?
Breakfast items abound on the menu. Gerald´s proud of his pancakes, and proud enough of his SOS to pull no punches on the menu: `shit on a shingle` can be ordered proudly and loudly.
The list of named drinks runs to more than 100. The nearer the end, the more, shall we say, creative their names become: #93--Raize [sic] Your Lizard; #95--Tear Off Your Underware [sic]. And at #101, a drink called the Yellow Rose.
(Left) Admiring some of the understated decor at The Yellow Rose of Texas; (Right) Yessirree, a jen-yew-wine Texas Longhorn cheerleader outfit as worn by staff
I got back to the Hospedaje la Pascana a little after my appointed time to meet Sandro, but he was waiting for me. Off we went in his mototaxi to drop off my laundry and drive the short way to one of the most unique barrios in South America, Belen.
Approaching the Mercado de Belen makes the Lima airport or the coming ashore at Iquitos seem like a Trappist retreat in comparison. A visit to Belen involves two different experiences--the market above and the floating barrio below. Let`s go shopping first...
How many individual stalls were in the marketplace? I guessed that there were 5,000, and if you told me there were more than that, I wouldn`t give it a second thought. The market was a maze, branches sprouting out left and right, the thoroughfares so narrow that it was difficult to walk, but unaccountably there were occasional mototaxis negotiating their ways through. If laid end-to-end these `streets`might extend a mile or more. Mercado Belen must be considered one of the most unforgettable experiences of my travels.
I can only provide a kind of a random review of what I saw:
Live animals. You could buy the cutest monkeys for 15-to-20 soles ($5-$7 USD). The beautiful green parrot-like loros were selling to gringos for 50 soles ($17 USD).
Tiny monkey for sale (the big one already belongs to a nice lady in Kansas)
Dead animal skins. I saw ocelot and jaguar and anaconda skins for sale. Send in Defenders of Wildlife!
Jaguar and anaconda skins
Suri. Two-gallon buckets of marinated grubs the size of your thumb.
(Left) Suri anyone? Or maybe snails (right)
Fresh chickens. Casually choked while you wait by a nice lady running the stand.
Fish. Amazon fish of every description were being cleaned in hundreds of stands. Fish heads seemed to be a particular delicacy.
(Left) Fish and caiman (alligator); (right) Fish large and small
Meat. Every kind of meat imaginable was available: amarillo, turtle, caiman (alligator), beef, pork, organs, intestines.
Women selling fresh meat
Cigarettes. Cigarette makers hand-rolled and sold large and small cigarillos.
Custard? Perhaps a half-dozen women scattered throughout the market steadily whipped a delicious looking concoction made from eggs, sugar and flavoring, plunging a sort of spring-like utensil up and down until the liquid in 8-gallon containers thickened, then served it in containers not unlike the tulip glass you might get an ice cream sundae served in. I would have overcome my reluctance to eat a raw egg product in the open market, but when I watched the glasses being washed in tepid-looking water, I opted not to have any. I`m kind of sorry that I didn`t give it a try.
Vendor selling eggs
Produce. The produce was as overwhelming as everything in its variety and quality. Potatoes, garlic, chiles, avocados, rice ($.67 for 2+ pounds), palm leaves to wrap fish for cooking, stacks of limes and oranges and papayas and probably dozens of other fruits from the jungle. I could not resist trying a slice of sandia (watermelon).
(Left) Woman preparing small salads for sale; (right) Bananas (platanos) by the bunch
Aphrodisiacs, tonics, elixirs. There were many stands selling pint-size bottles of various dark liquids. More than once I was targeted for their special aphrodisiac tonic. (I don`t know why, I just was.) Sandro, my driver and guide who prized the quality of `macho` above all others, was fairly graphic in his demonstration of the drink´s almost instant and certain benefits. The vendors even offered me a small sample to try before committing to purchasing a container. It sounded great, but I couldn't be certain that I wouldn't run rampant through the market, bringing shame to my family and the possible engagement of our diplomatic corps to resolve an unfortunate incident involving an ageing American tourist.
Sandro took me into a meat locker where great fish (3-to-4 feet long without their heads) and slabs of meat hung frozen. Most meat, though, spent its day at room temperature and on display.
I tried to be observant of the vendors´ sensitivities when taking photographs of them or of their wares. Almost all of them made eye contact with me, and I could immediately tell if they were disposed to engage me in some way. Most, by far, were friendly.
I always gestured for permission to photograph people or items except when taking pictures anonymously from afar. After taking photos, I showed them to the subjects. Adults and children alike were delighted to see their images. Many of them actually thanked me for taking their pictures.
I was overwhelmed by what I was seeing and became indiscriminant in my picture-taking, figuring that I could delete and edit later. I can remember only two individuals who indicated that they would not like to be photographed: one, I think, because of personal convictions, and another because she likely woke up nasty this morning, like every morning, and whose disposition spiralled downhill after that.
I would surely have gone to the marketplace in Belen on my own, but having Sandro along with me was a real advantage. He guided me throughout, taking me into places I would never have entered on my own, and provided me a sense of security as well. There might have been other gringos amongst the thousands of people in the market--surely there had been--but I never saw even one.
We spent well over an hour in Mercado Belen before threading our way down to the water`s edge. Sandro arranged for us to be paddled through the floating barrio by a guide with the unlikely name of Wellington. (Remember? Sandro´s first name was actually Wilson.) So we boarded Wellington´s canoe, the Pionera #1, and paddled out from shore.
(Left) Wellington paddling Pionera #1 into the floating barrio of Belen; (right) Enjoying the moment
Some of the homes near shore were built on stilts and maintained a fixed level throughout the year despite the significant changes in the river´s level. Others, the majority, were built on floating log foundations that were fixed in two dimensions, but would rise and lower along with the changing water level of Rio Amazonas.
Closest to shore there were overhead electrical lines. Even well out from land potable water was provided to the homes. Bathrooms (banos) were situated away from the floating homes, shielded by plastic tarps and shared by perhaps four families or more.
(Above, left) Typical homes at fixed level above river near shore; (above, right) Floating bano shared by several households; (above) One of the few painted homes in Belen
Children swam in front of their homes. Many boats--mostly canoe-shaped--plied the waters, some as taxis, some as mobile markets taking their specialties house-to-house.
(Left) Vendor paddling house-to-house selling produce and sundries; (right) Children playing in their 'front yard'
There were churches and schools and bars built on the water. At one school for the poorest of the children in the barrio, operated by a Spanish organization, it was time for what we would call recess. There was no playground, of course, so the kids were swimming under their classroom. They would climb the steps, jump out into the water, swim back, and repeat the process.
(Left) Belen church; (right) Children at recess under their school
Dogs and chickens and ducks, and even pigs, lived in or under the homes.
Then we left the maze of waterways, proceeding eastward away from shore, often paddling through floating vegetation. Sandro knew that I wanted to see the great Victoria amazonas plant that is native to the region. About 1/4-mile farther out from the homes most distant from shore, we encountered acre-size areas of open water, and on them were suspended the circular, lipped leaves of Victoria amazonas, fully five or six feet in diameter. They appeared substantial enough to support a small child.
Victoria amazonas and two young kids from Belen who guided our canoe through watery vegetation for a small tip (propina).
We continued on in the hand-hewn canoe, searching now for birds. Other than broad classifications, I couldn't tell you the name of a single one. It was fun nonetheless.
One memorable sight was of a raptor (an osprey?) launching itself from a tree in front of us and taking its prey in another tree even closer to our boat. We stealthily backpaddled a bit, then slipped through some floating vegetation as we approached the tree that harbored both hunter and prey. We got within 25 feet of the white-and-black bird feeding on its kill, close enough that photos should lead to its identification.
Osprey(?) with kill
Soon after that we paddled back across to Belen and shore. Our guide, Wellington, was paid 10 soles ($3.33 USD) for the one-hour trip in his canoe.
Sandro and I wound our way back through the mercado, stopping often for photos. We found our mototaxi and I was taken back to the Plaza de Armas. It was nearly noon by then. I paid Sandro 40 soles ($13 USD) for transportation, his invaluable services, and his time (almost four hours), and we each probably felt that we got a fair shake.
I arranged to meet Sandro at 4:30 back at Hospedaje la Pascana. He never showed up though I waited 45 minutes before hiring another driver to take me to pick up my laundry, return with it to my lodging, and then drop me off at a photo shop near centro Iquitos. I was able to clear up some space on my camera's storage disk by transferring about 700 photos onto a DVD: cost of the service and disk was 10 soles ($3.33 USD).
I strolled a block or two to The Yellow Rose of Texas (YROT) for an ice-cold cerveza followed by an avocado salad and some Texas-style pork BBQ served up proudly at this unique establishment in a jungle city on the Amazon River.
Heavy rain (lluvia) began before I could finish my dinner and get over to the Internet business across the plaza. Effectively trapped, I ordered another beer, and after that a chuchuhuasi sour. All the while I marveled at this gangbuster business lorded over by the seemingly omnipresent, hands-on, ever-prowling, American owner, Gerald Mayeaux. With time to marvel, I could not help noting the ex-pat's beautiful 30-something Peruvian wife who--like Gerald--paced the sidewalk that separates the outside seating from YROT itself, ensuring that customers received proper service and were not pestered by street urchins.
It was at least an hour before the tropical rain let up enough that I would even consider walking across the plaza to the Internet site. When I did leave, I stopped at the busy corner of Prosper and Putumayo, not yet wishing to leave a sheltered spot for the wet dash ahead.
Two pretty young (20-ish) girls talked to me while we all were standing at the corner. A mototaxi soon pulled up with a man in the back, and one of the girls hopped in. Hmmm. The girl left behind asked if I wanted, well, some company. Well...No, I explained, what I wanted was to cross the plaza and go to the Internet site. Maybe later? she asked. Where was I staying? How about a massage, then? The thought crossed my mind that Barb has been suggesting recently that I get a massage, something she finds quite relaxing, but decide--not for the first time-- not to take my wife's good counsel on this night.
I finally get over to the Internet site for some catching-up, and then hurry back to my lodging for what will be a short night's sleep before departing Iquitos in the morning.
Day 10--Iquitos and Lima, Peru, and on to Quito, Ecuador
I woke early--at 4:30 a.m.--in order to fly out of Iquitos to Lima on LanPeru's 6:20 a.m. flight. It's interesting that flights in and out of Iquitos are scheduled to avoid the most active time of vultures riding the thermals in the vicinity of the airpo rt.I had a four-hour layover in Lima before continuing on to Quito, Ecuador, time I used to catch up a bit on email and my trip narrative.
Quito is situated at about 8,500 feet in elevation. Though it seems immense when viewed from above, and it's Ecuador's capitol city, it is second in population to the port city of Guayaquil.
The currency used in Ecuador is the U.S. dollar. Not based on the U.S. dollar, but the currency itself. The country mints coins similar in size and denomination to ours. At least some, the dollar coin for instance, are embossed with "E Pluribus Unum" and "United States of America" on them. And not only is the currency easily negotiated without need for mental conversion, but so is the current: electric sockets and voltage are the same as our's, so appliances and gadgets can be plugged-in without using converter plugs and/or a transformer.
I landed in Quito in mid-afternoon. I had emailed a hostal, Villa Nancy, from Lima to ask about staying there, noting that they advertised free airport pick-up of guests staying more than one night. I hadn't been able to get back on the Internet to see if they had replied, but someone was at the baggage claim area with a sign for 'Mich Sarrel.' After ensuring that I was indeed the one they'd been sent to meet, I was soon leaving the airport in a taxi.
It turns out that there are two Villa Nancys in Quito and I was dropped-off at the wrong one, but the mistake was realized before the driver got away. When we got to the right one, located on the busy Avenida 6 de Diciembre, I was met at the gate--for security reasons, guests have to be let both in and out of the property--by the considerate and helpful Swiss employee, Rachel.
(Left) Rachel pointing out something (a danger? a nearby bus stop?) on the busy Av. 6 de Diciembre; (right) Inside Villa-Nancy
The day had turned gloomy, Rachel spent a good deal of time warning me about the dangers of getting about in Quito, I had a large and charming room with windows I could throw open to let in the cool air, and I was bone tired. Villa Nancy had Internet access I could use for $1/hour and cold beer in a refrigerator by the front desk. It was raining hard, with frequent and close lightning. And so I stayed inside the remainder of the day, planning instead what I would do the next couple of days in Quito. It was relaxing to say the least.
my room, which cost $18 per night, was large, had nicely finished hardwood floors, was furnished with two double-beds, and had a private bathroom.
free airport pick-up was provided because I was staying at the hostal for more than one night.
great breakfasts were included. You could choose to have cold cereal or have Angel (a young Ecuadoran staffer) prepare eggs perfectly to order. There was a basket of wonderful croissants and, on the table, a dish of morra preserves with a flavor to die for. (Morra is a blackberry-like fruit.) Fresh fruit and juice, brewed coffee, and hot water and tea completed the daily offering.
pitchers of potable water were provided daily in every room, important because prudent travelers would not brush their teeth with--let alone take a drink of--water from the faucet.
If I found myself staying overnight in Quito at some future time (not a sure thing), I'd likely stay at Villa Nancy. There is an Ecovia (one of Quito's three major mass transit lines that each run parallel in a north-south direction) stop right outside the hostal's entry, and the so-called Gringoland--an area of restaurants and lodging favored by travelers--is an easy walk as well.
Clouds and precipitation had reportedly been persistent in the area for days, obscuring one of Quito's charms--its setting in the midst of soaring mountains. I went to bed hoping for better weather tomorrow.
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October, 2007