Iquitos to Pucallpa Ferry
All aboard the Eduardo IX
Saturday 15 to Wednesday 19 June 2013

Day 1 saturday
We speed in a Motorkar (tuc tuc) from the offices of Cumaceba to the Masusa dock. We have 10 minutes to spare before published departure time and I declare that these things never happen on time in Latin America anyway.
When we get to there and pay the driver the 4 soles tariff I get a further insight into timings in these parts. Apparently our boat to Yarimaguas has been cancelled / delayed until Monday. So we can either wait a further 2 days in Iquitos or quickly amend our plans. We choose to change destinations completely to a place called Pucallpa. We have vaguely heard of it but from there Miguel tells us we can get a bus to Tarapoto and then another bus to Chachapoyas and finally on to Kuelap, the cloud fortress which is supposedly second only to Machu Picchu.

We think we have everything we need for the ferry journey, having bought what's required from either the emporium on Prospect Avenue (from a nice teenager with a lisp) , or the market in Belem (bedlam!), or the Cohen Shop (tescos!)
2 x hammocks @ 35 soles. Twl
1 x head torch @ 4.5 soles. Twl
11m of high durability rope @ 1.5 soles each. B
Snacks, water, crisps, chocs @ 50 soles. T

We were charged 100 soles for my ticket and 80 for Lindsay's. It is not clear why there was a disparity and one doesn't like to ask. Perhaps Saturday night is "ladies night". Perhaps there is a bulk discount. Perhaps the price is randomly generated. What does matter is that the cost for ferrying us 400 kilometres is £20-£25 including three meals a day. That sounds ok to me. At least on paper.

The hawker/stevedore who carried 40kg of our luggage on his back onto the boat took them immediately to the upper deck where the private cabins are. These are 150 soles each. Perhaps he assumed being gringos we would be going first class. But we have been told that these cabins are like boiling hot prison cells so we favoured hammock class. I went up there to look and only two cabins were being used. The hammock deck is jam packed. There is a gap of two inches between my hammock and the Peruvian gentleman next door, three inches between Lindsay's hammock and the battle-axe next to her.

Day 2 Sunday
We are en route and the sun is shining. Aaaah life on the Eduardo IX. It's like an all-inclusive cruise isn't it. 5 days of fun as you float slowly down the Amazon and Ucayali Rivers. I say all inclusive although some people wouldn't consider it great food. For breakfast this morning it was that white 'drink' that they have as a staple in the Peruvian Amazon. It's made by (some old woman) chewing dried manioc. She spits it out and the yeast in her saliva helps it ferment with water for up to four days. The mixture is considered ready when it becomes fizzy, just before it starts to become alcohol. We tried some in the market in Nauta. It was disgusting. I took one sip and returned it to the store holder, 50 cents or not.

People on here on not overly forthcoming with friendliness, but they seem welcoming enough. The lunch bell has rung and we have already docked at Requena. Looking at this on the map it seems about a third of the way to Pucallpa. We have made great progress on night one. Until you consider that this section is wide and straight, the rest turns into a lengthy squiggle. The other reason for the timings will surely be number and length of stops and we stop a further four times at various rustic looking river side pueblos.

The cargo is not just people either. The goods seem to get more and more obscure. At this one large quantities of cut timber are carried on. At the next two huge fat pigs are dragged on by their hind legs. A Vauxhall Cavalier is driven inside at one of these stops and the various crates are shifted around by our on board crew of tubby, swarthy vest wearers. There are also numerous boxes of live chickens scattered around the place as well as the large roosters tied up in the hold.

The vegetation is still very much high jungle and the weather steamy and sunny until night falls and a beautiful sunset is produced.

Day 3 Monday
Overnight the makeup of our fellow passengers seems to have altered. It is now approximately a 40:60 adult to child ratio. The place is swarming with rug rats and in some cases actual rats. We catch a glimpse of some rodent that neither of us have ever seen. Two guys have let it out of its box and are feeding it a potato. It runs underneath the hammock next to ours and starts munching on a bread roll that our neighbour has saved for later. At first we think it is a small dog but the lack of a tail and pink swept back ears say otherwise. Our new friend Julian the Promotional Products Man notices our interest and picks it up to come and show us. It has big bulbous brown eyes and coarse black brown short hair. We ask the owner if it has a name but no, it is only one and a half months old and is being bred for meat. It may grow to be a metre long like a capybara but this type lives in the mountains rather than the pampas.

Spirits are high on the boat, with a relaxed atmosphere. Apart from middle class Julian everyone else here is working class or below. Four or five men play cards outside the shop. Apart from meal times and when hawkers come on board to sell their foodstuff, this seems to be the only entertainment available. Lindsay and I are the only people that have books. Everyone else chats or plays nanny to the numerous children. One of the passengers has a small monkey tied to a bag. The kids try play with it, although it just hisses wildly back at them. I guess this is a welcome new toy, a break from playing with cigarette ends and empty plastic bottles, whatever they can find.

Night falls and mosquitos move in. Big things which leave welts that itch like crazy. I treat myself to a couple of 5 sole beers and we retire to our hammocks. A good day.

Day 4 Tuesday
We wake up and something has happened over night. It's a bit like a Channel 4 report from a refugee centre following a third world disaster. The deck is now rammed with new occupants. Children scream and shout. Hammocks are now everywhere, crossways against the railings as well as length ways. It is now not possible to say how many inches between me and the neighbours since they are now below and above me as well. We stop at another town and I can see them two deep on the bank waiting to board. This is going to get busy.

I get talking to a 25 year old and his wife who have a baby. He talks fast but he is interested in my guidebook. I ask him where we are on the map of Peru but he doesn't seem to be able to read. His wife breastfeeds about half a yard from my face. We hit common ground on Peru's chances of qualification for the next World Cup until the lunch bell sounds and suddenly my audience has disappeared. The line is half the length of the ship now with people literally running to join it.

We enquire about moving to a cabin upstairs. One of the crew offers Lindsay a price of 70 soles but when I go to pay the story changes. Now it's 70 each. Then 150 for two. I ask for a discount but he says 120. This is a ridiculous price and actually roughly the price of having a cabin for the whole trip. I tell him to shove it. We will take our chances squeezed in with the rest of the great unwashed. Yesterday's jolly mood has gone.

They are killing this Amazon. They don't think twice before throwing rubbish overboard. It's a sobering moment the first time you realise that all waste, absolutely everything, gets tossed overboard. The baby's nappies, leftover food, plastic bottles, cans, cardboard containers, everything. The cleaning boy comes round and cleans the toilets. The black bin bags are thrown overboard and float down stream. The septic tanks I presume are also jettisoned. I start to regret my swim in the Amazon of the Pacaya Samiria National Park 3 days ago.

It's claustrophobic in here. I note to Lindsay that I have noticed the 2 lads opposite staring at me. She says she has noticed the same. What do they want, this angry looking pair? Steal our stuff in the night? Stick a knife between our ribs? Get a dodgy cab to drive us somewhere nasty in Pucallpa? Who knows.

About 4 pm and there is movement. Hammocks are being packed away and bags readied. This is Contamana, a jungle town big enough to have its own dot on our map of Peru. A third of the boat get off including the gruesome twosome who, it would appear are delivering a live chicken to this town. We are disappointed when they board back later before the ship leaves. But now there is breathing space and a lighter mood all round. This will still be the busiest of the 4 nights. We consolidate our belongings which are tied together with 3 metres of the same thick rope as that suspending our hammocks. This was a trick advised by Arturo at Cumaceba. Good advice in an environment where we are the only gringos we have seen in a week. "If you don't, the locals will just wheel your stuff away in the night..."

Our mood is also improved by our change in travel plans. We've abandoned thoughts of a bus journey to Tarapoto. That would require us to travel by bus via Tinga Maria which has a nice sounding name. However one guidebook says this is a jungle No-man's land where robberies and rape occur. The other talks of drug trafficking and states explicitly 'avoid this road'. Our friend Julian protests it is dangerous but "just make sure you keep some small money in your pocket so that when the bandits get on you can just give them this". For this reason, we have decided to fly from Pucallpa all the way south to Lima before going back north to Ecuador as intended.

It is the last night. I am half disappointed that there is no end of term ball. Appropriate that our talkative friend with the boz-eyed child is now wearing a low cut sequinned maxi dress. Incongruous since most of the men folk look like they have just come out of prison, full of homemade tattoos.

Day 5 wednesday
The brothers grim have not stolen our stuff or slit our throats in the night. Soon we will be doing our teary goodbyes and swapping email addresses. Well, maybe only with Julian. Lindsay consolidates the snack bag and hands out our remaining bananas. A few more people left during the night so now there is nearly enough room to swing a hammock, but not quite. I have a long conversation with Julian in my pigeon Spanish. We cover diverse topics like the Peruvian petrochemical and narco trafficking industries, that Peruvian bar in London called Titos and once again Peru's dwindling chances of qualifying for Brazil 2014 (very unlikely he says). He also says we are now 2 hours behind schedule and likely now to arrive at Pucallpa at 2pm. So another chance to see grown adults running for bad starchy food at the sound of a school bell. The food has been ok in general, if a little bit samey. We bought aTupperware and two spoons for just this purpose. It is always rice with either chicken or beef.

Pucallpa is only an hour away now and Lindsay has made friends with 3 little girls. The 7 year old has overcome her natural Peruvian shyness, and instead of slyly observing us from afar like the rest of her countrymen, has dared to ask a question. Also, one of the angry young men is now staring at me openly. For once instead of looking away I hold his gaze, but he doesn't look away either. We are now staring at each other from extremely close distance. hammocks at 2 yards. He is grinning. This wouldn't happen on the tube in London. I lose my cool and I shout 'what?' at him. He finally looks away. He moves to find his friend.

Lindsay is still chatting to her little friend, and then I notice that the youth is now staring over my shoulder at the guidebook I am reading. Now I'm furious but I try a different tack and ask his name. I discover that he is eager to make friends. His favourite football team, mysteriously, is also Liverpool, but this is probably just his way of bonding with me.
What I took to be contempt is actually just fascination. I may be the first white face he has ever seen. Conversation is difficult since he speaks fast and the accent is strange. But I glean that his parents have told him it is time to leave the jungle and to move to Lima in search if a job. The chicken he has in a box under the seat is a thank you present to his uncle who he will stay with while he looks for work in the big city. His companion is his cousin. Now I feel terrible. Cultural differences, and I jumped to the wrong conclusion.

Arriving in Pucallpa we take down our hammocks and pack belongings away. We say our goodbyes to those we have spoken to, and decline all offers to carry our belongings. The heat and dust are oppressive at dockside, but we jump in the only taxi available to go to the airport. It's time for some first world comforts once more.
As we leave the boat the youth runs to catch me. I have forgotten my Tupperware and he smiles as he gives it back. Truth is he never wanted to steal anything off us, and now he actually wants to give things back.
We shake hands and I wish him luck, but i still feel bad about how I treated him. Sometimes it really hurts to learn lessons the hard way. I really hope it works out for him and his cousin in the big city.