Downtime in the Juma Lodge (Monday June 12)

We wake up to another beatiful sunrise, enjoyed from our balcony. We had expected there to be a lot of birdsong, but in fact, the most consistent sound track, day and night, is the croaking of many frogs - we never see one, but hear them all the time.

Today the members of our group who chose to sleep in the forest straggle in to breakfast, looking a little rumpled but happy to have had the experience. Apparently, sleeping in a hammock was a challenge, but the space was safe, protected by netting. When the day's plans are announced: to climb a tree using ropes in the morning, followed by fishing for piranhas in the afternoon, we feel we have reached the end of the programs appropriate for us and that we would like to return to Manaus for an extra day there. I manage to get our departure organized for the following morning, and learn that another lunch has been planned in the jungle, which gives us the chance to see where the intrepid group slept.

We while away the afternoon at the pool, taking a last look at the coastline and observing a boat arriving with building materials for a kitchen area under construction. We have learnt that all transport to this area is by boat, thus materials are brought down the river and back again in a certain pre-arranged sequence of stops. School children are picked up by boat starting with the furthest away very early in the morning and brought back in the afternoon in reverse order. This makes for long days for the children, and parents must make sure they have food and water for the duration, since often, apparently, the schools haven't received supplies. Even the hotel's laundry must be sent all the way to Manaus. The white towels and sheets cannot be washed in the dark river water and nothing dries in the humid atmosphere anyway.

Our guide Felipe gives a talk that night in the lodge's museum hut. He speaks surprisingly well, relaxed and spontaneous, sharing a lot of interesting information about the people, their customs and the fauna of the area, where he grew up. At the end, he passes around a a giant crocodile cranium. It reaches the arms of a recently arrived Italian lady, who mutters, "Mamma Mia," when she feels the weight of it. Back in our chalet, we have noticed an increasing amount of ants on the floor. We don't like to kill anything, but these ants unfortunately must die! Nonetheless, I have a feeling I've been bitten during the night, when I notice some itchy splotches on my skin. We are in the middle of the jungle after all.