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Visit Aria· via Brazil

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Virtual Tour of Aria·

Here is a description of my stay at Aria· in January 1997. My stay lasted for three days, and was recommended to me by my Brazilian friend, Susi, who had read about the lodge in a local magazine. The lodge is also frequently mentioned in travel guides about Amaz⌠nia.

Even if you can't travel to Amaz⌠nia yourself, hopefully the following photographs and story will give you a small taste of what its like.

Day One: January 2

Flew from Porto Alegre to Manaus (via Sπo Paulo). This is a reminder of just how big Brazil is – the combined flights took five hours in a Boeing 747.

On our arrival at Manaus airport, we're met by Charles, a French guide from Aria·. Charles loads our bags into the van, and asks us to wait around for a few more minutes because a flight from the United States is also soon to arrive, bringing more visitors. Fifteen minutes later, we're all in the air-conditioned van as it pulls up alongside a jetty in front of Manaus' Hotel Tropical. We climb aboard a riverboat (called a gaiola, by the locals) and set out on the two hour ride to the lodge. For an extra charge, Aria· can also arrange quicker and more dramatic helicopter and speedboat transfers – but the slow riverboat ride is a good opportunity for us to relax and meet the other visitors. Here we meet Regina, a very friendly and talkative visitor from Sπo Paulo, who engages Susi and I in an interesting conversation about live, love, and spirituality. The riverboat also lets us appreciate how big the Amazon and Rφo Negro rivers are – the riverbanks are so far away that we feel as if we're on a huge lake, not a river! I move to the front of the boat and look downwards. The waters of the Rφo Negro are frothing foamy brown as the bow of the riverboat cuts through them on its way to the lodge.

An hour and a half later, the riverboat turns into a small channel where there are trees overhanging the water on both sides. The scenery changes – and although we can't see any wild animals, we can see lots of exotic birds nesting in the trees and flying overhead.

Soon afterwards, we see a series of towers and other structures rising through the canopy of the surrounding rainforest, and minutes later the riverboat gently eases into position alongside the small floating dock. Susi and I grab our bags and climb down onto the dock. Some middle-aged American tourists follow, but then stand around waiting and demanding for a porter to carry their huge bags up the stairs which lead to the lodge's reception. Susi and I just look at each other, then put on our huge backpacks and carry our own gear up the stairs. The Americans are still waiting. Several of the Aria· monkeys are gathered nearby, curious to see who the new visitors are.

We check in, and are shown to our room, and although there are a few problems at first, Susi talks to Jilson, one of the guides, and everything is soon straightened out. Back in reception, Jilson officially welcomes everyone to the lodge – including the Americans, who are now there thanks to the efforts of several burly porters. There are sighs of relief from all around when Jilson adds that we don't have to worry about being bitten by mosquitoes while at Aria·. The acidity of the surrounding river water (which is stained dark brown by dissolved plant material, like a strongly-brewed cup of tea) makes it an unsuitable area for mosquitoes to breed.

That night I sample lots of the local foods and juices served in the dining room. Some of them I like, but others will take getting used to. One of the Americans is searching in vain for a burger and fries, though Susi looks relieved that there aren't any around (I purposely don't mention to her about my almost-daily lunch at McDonalds).

After dinner I'm feeling very full – though learn later that eating such a huge meal after several days travelling wasn't a great idea. Eduard, our guide, invites us to join an expedition looking for jacarΘs (alligators), but I'm feeling tired as a result of the travelling and the big meal that I've just eaten. Susi and I walk back along the platforms to our room. It is dark now, and there are some bats flying back and forth, dining on the insects which have congregated around the outside lights. Here, I discover that Susi, despite having been brought up on a farm in rural Brazil, is very squeamish about animals. On seeing the bats, she screams then runs down the platform with her arms up over her head until she reaches the inside of the next building. I just stand by and watch in amazement, then follow much less dramatically behind her.

Day Two: January 3

The next morning I'm feeling ill after having been sick during the night – I feel as if I've been kicked in the stomach by a mule. Susi and I get up and go to breakfast, though it's a struggle for me to eat anything. Regina brings me a cup of camomile tea and an apple, saying that they will make me feel better. One of the Americans goes back to her room and returns with a mini-pharmacy, including pills for my upset stomach and a sachet of Gatorade which she says will also help. I thank everyone for their assistance, taking the pills, and drinking the tea. It seems to work, because an hour later I 'm feeling much better, though still not 100 percent. In the meantime, I wander out and content myself by feeding bananas, and other fruit taken from the dining room, to the monkeys gathered around outside.

Soon afterwards, our group jumps into a motorised canoe and travels off to visit a small river settlement for an opportunity to see how the locals live. We discover a small village where the houses are little more than raised wooden shacks, with only one or two rooms. Most of the group stays close to Eduard, our guide. But Susi and I spot some kids nervously watching us from the small porch of their shack, so we slowly wander up to them, waving and smiling. We start chatting with them (though the kids are laughing at my attempts at Portuguese) – mostly we just exchange names, and ask a few simple questions about their village. The kids think that their village is much healthier than living in a big city. I semi-successfully tell them that I am from a place very far away, with Susi adding that I am from New Zealand (Nova Zelandia) – but the kids have never heard of it. One little girl is holding a small puppy, so we talk about that instead. The kids are very cute, and I am dying to take a photo – but I don't wish to be too intrusive, so plan to ask them later.

The tour group moves on, so Susi and I walk back to join them. They are getting a quick lesson about the crops and other foods growing around the settlement. We then look at some local crafts and buy softdrinks from the village store. We stay for a few minutes, but then the tour group starts to leave – so there's no chance of running back to get the photo that I wanted. Fortunately, just as we're leaving, I spot some more kids sitting on the steps at the top of the jetty – we spend a minute waving to each other, then I point to my camera and they reward me with big cheesy smiles. I manage to snap a couple of photos before our boat leaves.

On the way back, we stop at a small beach on the river, and Eduard invites us to go swimming. At first I'm a little nervous having heard about the piranha and other less famous inhabitants of the rivers (even though the books all told me that "incidents" are very rare) – but no one else around me is concerned. About a minute later, everyone else is already in the water, so I opt to do the same. I'm also a little nervous about showing off my little white NZ body (people on the beach in Rio de Janeiro thought I was still wearing a t-shirt!). The river water was warm, and if I tilt my head backwards into the water I can hear the river current pushing stones along the river bottom sounding like the metallic clicking of free-wheeling bicycle wheels. The swim is pleasant and relaxing – but later (as we get closer to the lodge), Eduard tells us the local legend of a huge anaconda snake reportedly seen by fishermen several years before. The fishermen fled in terror, but estimated that the snake was about 25 metres long – twice as long as the biggest anaconda ever recorded. Mind you, it isn't as if fishermens' estimates have a great reputation for reliability! Eduard also adds that the area around Aria· was used as a location for filming the recent Hollywood movie, Anaconda.

That afternoon after everyone else has eaten lunch (and I've had another cup of camomile tea), Susi convinces me to climb high up one of the towers with her to take photographs. I reluctantly follow behind her, not thinking that the climb will help my delicate condition. The climb takes about five minutes up the steep, narrow, and seemingly not very sturdy steps which lead to the top of the tower. However, the view at the top is worth it (even if my knuckles are turning white as I grip tightly onto the railings). The land all around us is flat – and there is rainforest stretching out as far as we can see.

The rest of my afternoon is spent resting and hoping for my stomach to settle. As such, I opt not to join in the piranha fishing with the rest of the group. Susi tells me that she didn't catch any, though Regina caught two small ones and kindly donated one of them to her. Because piranhas have very sharp teeth, and can easily bite through a normal hook, special extra-strong hooks must be used when fishing for them. Piranhas are supposed to taste delicious, but I never got to try any.

That night, feeling a little better, Susi and I venture out on one of the guided expeditions to look for jacarΘs. We head out down a small river tributary in another motorised canoe armed solely with a spotlight. A light rain starts about 10 minutes into our hunt, and although Eduard gives us the option to turn back, our group boldly resolves to continue – much to the disgust of a old American couple included in the group. Five minutes later, the drizzle turns into a torrential downpour, and everyone is soaked in the first 30 seconds – let alone the 15 minutes that it takes for us to get back to Aria·. Fortunately, most take the experience with good humour knowing the risk that we'd taken with our earlier decision. I manage to get a few "interesting" surreal photos before my camera packs in due to the moisture (fortunately it recovers the next day).

The downpour continues as we arrive back at Aria·, where we rush inside to drink hot tea, laugh some more about our experience, and then run back to our rooms to get changed.

Day Three: January 4

The next morning I feel much better than I did the previous day. This is our last full day at Aria·, and after breakfast we set off on our first activity of the day – a guided walk through the Amazon rainforest. Although I've read many books about the rainforest, I'm still unsure what to expect so I feel a little apprehensive.

The area that we're going to walk through is located a few minutes away by canoe. On the way out we pass fishermen in canoes, and the hotel's "laundry service" washing the lodge's linen in a tub using water from the river.

Entering the rainforest is easier than I'd expected. We follow an established trail so there's no need to worry about slashing our way through dense undergrowth or accidentally grabbing hold of a tree-living snake mistaking it for an overhead vine. According to our guide there are few chances of running into anything unpleasant – because the trail is regularly used by humans, rainforest animals tend to keep well away from it. We trek on a circular path, with Eduard stopping regularly to point out special rainforest plants and to tell us about their uses. Some of the plants that we learn about are a tree which produces a sweet creamy-white gum originally used for bubble-gum, the ingredient used for making Vicks VapoRub, and a bright-yellow sap worn by Indians as an insect-repellent (Susi and I try wearing it as war-paint). We are also shown a kapok tree whose huge buttresses can be pounded with a stick to sound like jungle drums (they sounded pretty good) as a way to communicate across distances or call for help. However, the highlight for for most people is the opportunity to swing on real jungle vines (Tarzan made it look easy, but it isn't).

There are few animals for us to encounter on our rainforest walk, but Eduard points out a nest of army ants and warns us to be careful when leaning up against trees in the rainforest. He tells us to look at the base of the tree to check for tiny holes in the ground around it, indicating a nest. "If one of these ants bites you," he says, "it is 24 hours of hurt!" This, he demonstrates by banging against the side of a tree with a stick so that we can watch a line of large ants scurrying up the tree trunk. Eduard catches one of the ants on a stick and holds it close to us so that we can have a close look at it and its huge (for an ant) jaws.

Eduard also points out a nest belonging to large bird-eating spiders (a member of the tarantula family) and one of our group taps on the nest hoping to make one appear, but the spiders wisely remain hidden inside. Our trek ends by a small stall where there are some local people selling crafts. One of the locals is holding a baby boa constrictor snake – only 10 centimetres long, just long enough to curl itself around my wrist and rest in my hand.

After our forest trek, we return to Aria·, where Susi and I wander around, and help out with some of the animals feeding time. The prospect of food draws birds and monkeys from all around. It's lots of fun.

After lunch, (ours and the the animals'), we travel off in the canoe once more to visit a village which has recently been resettled by several families of local Indians. These families had previously been living in the nearby city of Manaus – but were unhappy with its overcrowding, poverty, and lack of control over their day-to-day lives. As such, a plot of land close to Aria· was made available for them, enabling them to return to the forest and to live by growing crops, fishing, and selling crafts. Although life here is still difficult, and there are few material comforts and conveniences, everyone I ask agrees that it's "melhor que Manaus" (better than Manaus).

Admittedly, I'm feeling guilty invading these people's homes – but they appear used to the regular visitors. Eduard shows our group around the village, explaining how its residents live, while Susi and I wander off to chat with the locals. The main structure is a large open-sided hut similar to those that I've seen in photographs of Indian villages in books. The hut provides a large covered space for cooking, social gatherings, and a comfortable place to rest during the day. Nearby are houses, raised off the ground similar to the houses which we visited in the other village the previous day. The main difference is that the walls of these houses are made from thatched leaves instead of timber. The village is surrounded by gardens planted with bananas, cassava, sugar, corn and other crops.

Personally, I would be nervous living here because I've grown up in a country where I'm reliant on modern services such as electricity, telephones, and computers. I'm also unsure about the quality of schooling that children receive here because the place is so remote, and there don't seem to be any local schools. But for the people who live here, their village means self-sufficiency, independence, and a safe environment to raise their families.

Although this is an "Indian" village, life here appears little different from life in the previous village. With my lack of Portuguese it is difficult for me to guess how much of the Indians' traditional culture had been retained. My impression is that people here are stuck between two cultures – primarily Brazilian, but with a memories of their own rich and unique heritage. I hope that they can retain this knowledge, giving younger people the opportunity to learn more about their traditional culture because it is important for a people to know, and take pride in, where they come from.

For most people visiting the village, the highlight is the opportunity to handle another (bigger) boa constrictor. The snake is a pet belonging to the daughter of the village chief, and is brought out for everyone to see. This is the first time I've ever handled a big snake – although I saw a few as I was travelling through the United States, I wisely kept my distance. Handling the boa is very different from what I'd imagined. Its skin is smooth and warm – not at all cold and slithery like snakes are reputed to be.

That evening we set out on another expedition to search for jacarΘs (alligators). And, as a result of last night's attempt, I remember to bring a raincoat – though, luckily, it isn't needed this time. The night is calm and clear. There is a beautiful view of the stars and, in the background, there is the constant hum of crickets, frogs, birds, and water rushing past the canoe. At one point, Eduard turns off the motor and lets us drift in silence to enjoy the astonishing beauty of the Amazon evening.

Sitting next to me in the canoe is a beautiful and distracting young American tourist, who is touring Brazil with her mother. We quietly chat for a while as our canoe slides through the dark and unlit waters – until part way through the conversation when Susi (sitting on the other side of me) suddenly stands on my foot. I'm not entirely sure if this was an accident.

Finally, after a lot of searching, we find a small jacarΘ. One of the guides carefully slips into the water, grabs it, and then hauls it up into the boat. At this point I decide that he's insane and so say a small prayer for his poor unfortunate family. My suspicions are confirmed when he apologises for the jacarΘ being small!

Eduard takes hold of the jacarΘ, which he estimates at two years of age, and tells us a little about how jacarΘs live. The jacarΘ is then carefully passed around to some of the braver passengers who pose for photographs while the rest of the passengers gather at the back of the canoe and cringe. Soon afterwards, the jacarΘ is released back into the water, so that it can race home to tell its friends how much it hates tourists, and plot the revenge it will take when it becomes a big jacarΘ.

Day Four: January 5

This is our last morning at Aria·. I'm a little sad to be leaving – although anxious to be continuing with the rest of my journey. After breakfast, and repacking our things, I pass the time playing with and photographing Aria·'s monkeys ("macacas", in Portuguese). At 10am, the speedboat which will return us to Manaus has arrived. I lift up my backpack one more time, and store it as Susi and I board the boat for the city. Within minutes, everyone is aboard and the boat departs. As the boat speeds off, I look back and watch Aria· and the monkeys disappearing into the distance. The silence of my thoughts are broken a minute later when Susi starts to speak. "Phew! You smell like your friends, the macacas!", she teases.