Joe heads down to Chachapuma’s Amazon retreat, hoping to finally experience jungle life.
OK, I been down here about two weeks already and - NOTHING!
Yeah, I’m talking about the supposed ‘indigenous culture’ community - Chachapuma Quispe’s property in the Amazon. I mean, it looks authentic enough, the fauna, the sounds of the jungle at night.
Definitely the humidity.
We’ve been staying in these stilted huts, with the open air doorway. That’s the way people in the jungle live, huts raised off the ground so that snakes and scorpions, and other such critters don’t invite themselves in. Bats will still come flying in and out, as well as the ever present hordes of mosquitoes, buy whaddya gonna do, y’know?
That’s all tolerable - I mean, even cool - since I basically expected it to be like that anyway. What I didn’t expect, though, was the almost complete lack of any real structure since I’ve been here. I mean, what happened to the program he was so passionately boasting about!? The activities? The excursions? He made it sound like we would be learning all kinds of traditional indigenous ways. Cook. Harvest traditional crops. Ride in native canoes, etc,.
Most of the time though, we’re left with very little direction. Hey, this is not what I paid for, man, and I am beginning to get extremely frustrated. I am, in fact, seething now. So, like, two more days go by, still the same shit, and I attempt to talk to this guy, Chachapuma Quispe, about what’s going on. He just gives me the rush talk, y’know? Says he’s got a meeting he has to hurry to now.
Thing is, I’ve hardly seen this guy since I started here - and whenever I do manage to corner him - he’s giving me some fast talk, double talk.
Bullshit.
Hey man - I’m from New York.
If there’s a scam that’s been invented - I know about it!
Don’t try that shit with me, alright?
He spent enough time with me when he wanted the program fee, so…come to think of it, all the other ‘volunteers’ are young white European kids who just seem happy to be here. They’re not gonna rock the boat, y’know? Probably daddy paid their whole fee anyway.
That’s his M.O., man, he goes out scouting for young white kids who are likely to have some financial backing - and that’s how he makes his money. Now, the anger is really building up inside me. Piet (from Bospas) urged me to reconsider, said we had a lot of stuff to build on right there, that I shouldn’t just go off with some random guy I didn’t even know.
He was right.
I feel like such an asshole, man.
So tonight is literally the last straw. We’re all sitting down to dinner. Ramon, Chachapuma’s brother, who seems to be loosely in charge here, is serving out this obviously processed food that definitely wasn’t grown here, or anywhere around here, for that matter.
I explode.
“Hey, Ramon, what the hell is this shit, man!? What does this have to do with indigenous food!? What?! Did you guys go out on a shopping spree to Tia (the big supermarket chain down here) or something, and get a sale on canned goods?”
“Oh, we’re very sorry for tonight (probably the fifth time, actually), we ran out of food, so we had to make an emergency shopping at Tia”.
Yeah.
“Please, please, understand, Joseph, we are working very hard to correct this; we have many activities and programs planned in the next couple of weeks”.
Yeah.
I glare over at the other volunteers- they’re meekly staring down at their plates like good obedient slaves.
I am incredulous!
Suddenly I just go numb. A profound cloud of… emptiness… just takes over my body. I’ve been played.
Shit!
I rise up from the table without a word.
This sucks!
I amble off to my hut, pack up my stuff - and head over to the bus for Tena, the big town near here. I walk about twenty minutes, feeling dead inside, and wait for the bus. After a while it arrives. I board it, and am in between a violent temper tantrum - and on the verge of tears.
Shit!
How did I let myself get played like that?!
That was, like, my last chance… I gave them more than half of the money I had left for the ‘fee’. I’m gonna have to borrow money from my father now just to get home. How embarrassing! I didn’t even get to see the ‘real Amazon’... what a jerkoff!
What a disaster.
I can see it now when I get back home. Everybody’s gonna be looking at me like I’m a fuckin’ idiot! Like what did you actually do in Ecuador - aside from getting drunk and dancing on the beach? And they’d be right too. I should’ve taught English, man. Should’ve done something to make money.
I am so disappointed in myself now, probably more discouraged than at any time since I’ve been in Ecuador.
I thought I was going to find some kind of ‘mythical’ new world here! I would totally reinvent myself. Become a whole different person.
Yeah.
The bus drops me off at the Tena bus depot. It’s about 8 PM. I get off, and wander about lost in my thoughts… till I finally snap out of it - and come to the realization that I better find a place to stay for the night! I stumble upon this hostel, ‘Hostal Breakaway’, check in, unload my stuff, and head out to find a place to eat.
My stomach is grumbling, man. I wind up at this restaurant called ‘Chiquitos’, where I order a plate of camarones (shrimp), rice - and a big bottle of Pilsener beer. Just need a place to sit, eat and brood. Mostly brood.
Right then, like it’s deja vu, man - I’m taking a bite of my dinner - when another indigenous guy rushes into the restaurant - and makes a beeline towards me! What am I, some kind of fuckin’ mark for these guys!? Jeez.
He comes up to my table like he wants to pull up a chair and talk.
No way.
No way!
I put up my hand like a stop sign - and shake my head emphatically.
NO!
Just leave me the fuck alone. I’m in no mood for another sales pitch tonight, man. He drops a pamphlet off at my table anyway - and moves back out the door
