Saturday, August 23
Location: Riverboat
to SantarΘm,
Parß, Brazil
Today's weather: 27░C.
This morning was last minute shopping and getting
things ready for my riverboat journey. I also bought a
new watch for Maria to replace the one that she lost
while we were out dancing last night. The advantage of
being in a duty-free area like Manaus is that
watches and other items are very cheap – many of
them are actually made in Manaus, assembled from
components imported from Japan and other countries. When
walking through the city's marketplace I was constantly
approached by traders selling watches in street-side
stalls. And as soon, as the other traders noticed that I
was interested I was instantly surrounded by more of
them.
The traders showed me a lot of watches. I found one
that I liked, but the price was R$ 45. I argued that this
was expensive and that I could get a better price
elsewhere. But, the street vendors were very persistent.
They argued among themselves, and they came up with a
better deal whenever I started to walk away. Eventually
the price came down to R$ 35 – which seemed like a
bargain, so I bought the watch. Unfortunately I'd
forgotten the good advice that my friend Susi (queen of
the bargain-hunters) had given me during my first visit
to Manaus in January: "Ignore the street
vendors! Their prices are hugely inflated, and you can
get the same products much cheaper in a regular
shop!" I found this out for myself a few
minutes later when I finally found the shops selling
watches. They had several good watches for less than R$
15, and one almost identical to the one I'd bought,
priced at R$ 25! I kicked myself, realising that I could
have saved some money – but I still liked the watch
(and compared to the prices elsewhere in Brazil, and in
New Zealand, it was still a bargain). I guess that
despite the dramas involved buying the watch, the most
important thing was that Maria liked it when I gave it to
her.
I went onto Maria's work, where I gave her the watch
and a box of chocolates for Marlφ to say thank you for
having taken us out the previous night. We said goodbye,
promising to write to each other and that perhaps Maria
could visit New Zealand sometime in the next year. I felt
sad, but since I plan on returning to Manaus for other
projects I was sure that Maria and I would see each other
again. Although Manaus is quite run-down in places, it is
still an interesting city and has plenty of
opportunities.
 I
returned to the hotel again, and struggled to stuff
everything back into my backpack – its contents had
grown even more since my arrival in Manaus two days
before! Lugging the huge pack onto my back, and with a
plastic shopping bag in each hand, I staggered down to
the docks ten minutes walk away. The idea of walking to
the docks seemed simple enough – but the sun and
tropical heat made it very difficult. The sweat poured
off me like water – so much that it got into my eyes
and started to sting. I stopped to rest in a couple of
places and buy cold drinks. The local people looked
completely baffled as to why I would attempt carrying
such a huge load in such hot weather. None of the locals
attempt such physical burdens because the weather makes
impractical.
I finally made it to the ticket office, and ignored
one of the ticket vendors when he tried yelling at me in
Portuguese (I simply assumed that he wanted to sell me
another ticket). I struggled down to the wharves and
started to look for my boat. But it wasn't there! This is
when someone stopped me and told me that the boat hadn't
arrived. He advised that I drop my things off on another
boat, which he pointed to, and return to the ticket
office to change my ticket. I guessed that this is what
the ticket agent had been trying to tell me when I'd
ignored him earlier.
I did as I was advised. I dropped my things off on the
boat, then returned to the ticket agent – feeling a
little humbled. I smiled and professed my lack of
Portuguese, apologising for the fact that I'd rudely
ignored him earlier. He just smiled back and exchanged my
ticket for one on the other boat.
Having walked back to the boat, I attempted hanging up
my hammock. Fortunately I'd arrived early, so there was
still plenty of space. But, sometimes even the supposedly
simple things aren't as easy as they look. It was the
second time that I'd been humbled in five minutes!
Fortunately, my pained efforts attracted the sympathy of
some other passengers  who helped out (while
I watched carefully to see exactly how they did it). I
bought them soft drinks to say thanks, and then lay back
in my hammock to rest and relax. I watched as more people
arrived, wit their luggage slowly accumulating in a big
communal luggage pile in the centre of the deck beneath
the hammocks.
I'd been resting for about half an hour, and was just
thinking about Maria when she suddenly appeared beside
me. It was her lunch hour, and she'd come down to the
docks to see me off (although she'd had to wander aboard
a few boats to find me). She emptied her pockets and
dropped about ten packets of chewing gum and other sweets
into my lap. Perhaps this was her way of making sure that
I didn't starve on the journey. We sat in the hammock and
chatted. Maria said that she was very sad and that she
would miss me very much. She started to cry. I felt very
sad, too, and held her closely. Maria's tears triggered
one or two of my own. The tears must have been very
contagious because a minute later the woman behind us was
crying too. In fact, I think she cried more than any of
us – and I offered her some of the sweets to calm
her down. It's moments like these that I remember that
Brazilians are a very emotional people. Maria left
shortly before the boat departed. I will miss her very
much.
As the boat was leaving Manaus harbour, I bumped into
the only other "gringo" aboard. His name was
Rupert – a solicitor from London who was spending
three weeks in Brazil on his own adventurous journey. He
was travelling to the small Amazon riverside town of
Obid≤s – partly because it was "off the beaten
track" and because it was the site of an old
Portuguese fort dating back to the river wars when the
Portuguese fought the English, Irish, Dutch, and other
European powers for control of the Amazon. I've noticed
that "gringos" stick together when travelling
– linked by a need for conversation in our own
language and relieving us, for a while, of the effort to
struggle along in Portuguese.
 The
boat was a big wooden gaiola with two main decks
containing hammocks, and a third deck above where there
was a small bar and an area with tables and chairs where
people could relax. The decks of the Amazon riverboats
are almost always big and open – ensuring that there
is plenty of room for people to hang their hammocks and
that fresh air can circulate.
My hammock was on the middle deck of the boat. Next to
me were two women with a baby, with a middle-aged couple
on the other side, and a teenage boy suspended in a
hammock above mine. The atmosphere was very relaxed, with
lots of people readily chatting. Dinner was served at
about 6pm in a small dining area at the rear of the boat.
Since there was only room for about 16 people at once,
dinner was served in several sittings with people
patiently waiting their turn.
I returned to my hammock after dinner and tried, for a
while, to continue working on my Portuguese. But the
previous few late nights caught up with me and I soon
fell asleep. It got cold in night, so I reached down into
the bag next to me a grabbed my jacket which I spread out
over me like a blanket.
   
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