Floating Into The Amazon With Eduardo

For s/.60, we bought our tickets about the Eduardo I, a blue barge that services Yurimaguas to Iquitos on a three day trip. Mounds of produce and products were loaded on the lower deck, along with chickens in boxes, emaciated cows in tiny pens and pigs dragged aboard kicking and squealing. The upper decks were reserved for passengers and their belongings, with a few more secure cabins and bunks for a whopping s/.150.

We had enquired a shipmate about departure time the day before, and though he told us it was to be 8pm, when we arrived at the main port of La Boca to buy our tickets in the morning, we found that departure was set for noon. Hurriedly buying a few essentials like toilet paper, lunch boxes and water, we made a dash to pack our belongings and claim a space to string up our hammocks.

We boarded at around 0930, secured our bags around a post and hung up our hammocks. By 11, most people had done the same and the decks became a tangle of colorful hammocks hanging so close to each other that sometimes it was like sleeping in the same bed as the stranger next to you. After sleeping feet-in the first night, Joel told me that he was going to sleep head-in the next because "I nearly kissed the ass of the old man next to me."

Apart from luggage and hammocks, the deck was decorated with damp clothes hanging from the overhead bars along with the bright orange life vests. Occasionally, loud Latin music blasted from the speakers as if the vessel was trying to be a party ship, and we had to yell to be heard.

Food And Waste

Meal times were always looked forward to, despite the disappointing standard of food; rice with a small portion of meat in a watery sauce, and a boiled plantain, prepared three times a day by a team of surly gay cooks (for some reason, every cook on board a cargo-passenger vessel servicing Iquitos is gay; complete with a pout and eyebrow pencil). The clanging of metal to signal meal times always had everyone clamoring for a spot in the queue with their passenger/meal ticket and utensils in hand, like Dickens' orphans asking for more.

The showers were in the toilet cubicles, so it was always wet and dirty in there, but the crew seemed pretty much on the ball for maintenance. The bins never overflowed and the decks were cleaned three times a day, dust and litter not discarded into the river swept up and binned. Sadly, the locals throw out plastic cups, bottles, plastic bags and cigarette butts into the water, even though the river plays such an integral part of their lives. But enormous amounts of water passes any one point in the river that garbage is taken away and rarely ever seen again, except for the odd soft drink bottle. Perhaps if they could see how much waste is dumped, they would respect the cleanliness of the river that those that thrive from it, and in it.

Thieves And Borrowers

Joel assured me that our belongings were only in danger when the barge stopped at ports and vendors boarded, as sometimes they would leave with more than what they brought on. Vendors were often women and young children under the age of ten, selling drinks and snacks, each one calling out the product that they were selling. The decks were often full of a parade of children carrying bags and boxes, with a "Hay gelatina!", "Hay refresco!" or "Hay aguaje!"

During these times, Joel and/or I would sit by our bags until the barge left the bank, otherwise we'd wander outside together and enjoy the sun or cool breeze. Once, when the barge was in motion and theft was apparently minimal, my pack of cards went missing. Disappointed for a moment, I soon forgot and went on with the afternoon. Joel was teaching me to salsa and credited my quick learning to none other than Dr Jones. When we returned to our hammocks, I found that my cards had been quietly returned and wondered why the borrower didn't just ask me.