Christi and I continue our lazy progress down the Rio Solimoes this morning. The scenery in Amazonia is easy on the eye, not requiring too much attention. We look up occasionally from our books and scan the wide river and the river banks to see the locals fishing, or laundering their clothes, or bathing. Life in hammock class (on deck 2) is even more relaxed. These people (admittedly pretty squashed together) sway gently back and forth as the MV Monte Sinai II makes relentless progress towards Manaus. The hammocks are brilliantly colored and two-tiered with children sleeping above their parents while the luggage lies exposed and inviting on the deck.
Sod’s law Monte docks on time in Manaus (capital of the Brazilian state of Amazonia) and Christi and I reluctantly leave the river. Taxi back to the uninspiring (but cheap) hostel Manaus and settle in to a room of little character and warmth. Finally find a helpful staff member who explains that the only way to purchase tickets to our next destination, Santa Elena de Uairen in Venezuela, we have to physically go to the local bus station. This is a drag because it’s raining stair rods. We’re talking biblical proportions here.
Before going to the bus station we slosh and slide to a nearby internet café. The main reason that Christi and I are going to Venezuela is to attempt the 6-day Roraima trek, which is Venezuela’s equivalent of the Inca trail. Trouble is Venezuela is something of an international pariah, at least in terms of financial transactions, and PayPal is refusing to transfer US$1130 to the travel agency, New Frontiers Adventure, who run the treks. PayPal are convinced that my account has been hacked, because why else would anyone want to send money to Venezuela! And no amount of begging, persuasion, or coercion on my part will change their minds. I can’t even prove to them that I am who I say I am because I’m not in America and my account originated in America (God forbid you should consider leaving the country). Abuse doesn’t work either. In fact abuse ends the call. Bastards. The news gets even worse, however, when Dragoman (the overland company with whom Christi and I will travel around West Africa) announces they have canceled the second 5-week leg of our trip (through Mauritania and Morocco) due to political turmoil in Mauritania. Well that’s just ducky. The carefully crafted plans we made for South America have worked out well (PayPal aside), but Africa is a chaotic continent that defies order and logic. The Dark Continent will be a whole other level of adventure.
The misery of the internet cafe is more than matched by the torrential rain and flooded streets of Manaus. We grumpily take a damp, dirty public bus to the main bus station and secure our onward tickets to Santa Elena de Uairen. We can at least get to Venezuela now, although quite what we’ll do once we get there is another matter. It’s a depressing night in a dismal hostel and the rain continues to thunder down.
Blog post by Roderick Phillips, author of Weary Heart a gut-wrenching, heart-wrenching, laugh-wrenching story.
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