Iquitos

We arrived in Iquitos at 7pm and made our way up the muddy and littered slope of the river bank dock. For a city dependent on barges bringing in cargo and passengers, the port was devoid of any kind of ramp or structure to allow easy foot access to the boats in the water. The first two nights there, I fell sick with the flu, confined to bed with a fever increasingly uncomfortable in the oppressive humidity of the jungle. But on the third day I had my energy back, and the flu had simmered down to a runny nose and annoying cough.

So Joel and I explored Iquitos, visiting the large and dirty mercado of the Belen district. Muddy water lined with river silt crept between my toes and flicked up my legs. No matter how careful I was to tip toe around the puddles, there was always someone nearby who didn't care to splash in them and onto me. The mercado had a bit of everything; from breakfast juice bars where you could get your fill for s/1.50 to hot foot stalls that served barbeque and rice. From fish, chicken and beef markets to vegetable, fruit and herbs. There was also a witches' market that sold potions, brews and exotic ingredients, and you could also see unusual meat cuts for sale. The skin off a pig's face, complete with ears and snout, the head and front limbs off turtles, and trotters from a strange jungle deer.

Plaza De Armas And The Esplanade

The pretty main plaza was always pleasant to visit, though the church was fairly ordinary and the only interesting building was the Casa de Fuerra (The Iron House). Not that it was particularly spectacular, but its history made it. Designed by Mr Eiffel of Eiffel Tower fame, its parts were fabricated in Europe and shipped to Peru during the rubber boom. It never made its original destination and instead was brought to Iquitos and assembled into two buildings. One fell into disrepair and was eventually dismantled, but the other on the Plaza de Armas still stands, an unusual metal structure in a city of rendered brick. It now serves as a restaurant upstairs and a pharmacy down.

Just a block away, the esplanade was a nice stroll with a river and jungle view, bar restaurants and karaoke along the opposite curb. An artesan market called Anaconda sat on high stilts, seemingly reinforced haphazardly as deem necessary. The days were often quiet on the esplanade, so it was the perfect place to cool off under the shade of a bouganvillea with an ice cold cebada (barley) drink, like the Peruvian equivalent of an iced tea.

The evenings, particularly on the weekends, were different. Street vendors sold desserts of flan and trifle while crowds gathered around street performers showing off dance, song or martial arts skills. Most popular were the comedic acts where there seemed to be at least one man in drag. Couples preferring to shy away from the crowds found a quieter spot below, in the shadowed recesses of the ramps leading down towards the river bank. Sometimes an outdoor cinema would be set up, otherwise children could enjoy the small playground also on the esplanade.

Someplace To Dance

One Saturday night, Joel and I were ready to do a bit of dancing. After visiting the esplanade, we went to a converted field in another district, now hosting dances and other events. But we found that the door fee had doubled for that night because of a concert. Joel had a Plan B and asked a mototaxi driver about a club he knew of, but the door fee was even higher. The driver told us of a street party happening and we agreed to check it out. He took us to a place a few kilometres away, to a celebration of the street's anniversary (WTF?), but a stage was set up on the moist compact sandy silt floor of an empty lot.

People enjoyed the music and danced, though at one point in the evening, a fight broke out next to Joel and I, and a clearing was quickly made for the men involved. The band stopped playing and pleaded for peace which was agreed to after ten or fifteen minutes. Well after midnight, we were pretty tired but waited for the salsa to be played before we left.