La Selva

The Amazon is less Amazonian than expected. Vaguely the middle of the jungle, amidst verdant hills with streams that finger their sides, tickling down, Tsuraku is vibrant, but not that different from any other forests I've been in in the last couple of months, save in Osa, which astounded me far more regularly. The people are welcoming and friendly, though prone to looking in our window at 7am when we're hoping to get up and get changed, and the children are particularly full of smiles. Today, we moved hundreds of plants - a bit of a relief, the work so far has to a large degree felt like make-work - and one boy of eight or so, Christian, always ran and walked beside me as I hustled the wheelbarrow along, grinning and holding a bag of plants. Work seems to be for only five hours a day, six if there's actually much to do. The food is quite good, though I suspect I have an ulcer. The unrelenting heartburn, present even when I sleep, is my only clue though, and I hope I'm misinterpreting. An upshot of all the free time is that I finally read Kerouac's On the Road. I devoured it in four hours straight, in all its photocopied and strung together glory, and I think there couldn't be a better way to read it. Ironic, though, that there was an eensy bit of escapism to North America from the Amazon, but my head needed it in every sense. For now, I'm out in Puyo for the weekend... and I got into the travel writing boot camp. If I can crank out workable print at the end then I might get my expenses paid to travel, which would be tremendous in many many ways!