Since childhood, the Amazon has been my dream. In the boyish imagination, it was a paradise filled with parrots, bright colors, and spaces overflowing with exotic fruits, scents, and enchanting sounds.
And now we are heading to South America. Our route: Almaty, Amsterdam, the exotic island of Bonaire off the coast of Venezuela, the Ecuadorian port of Guayaquil, the capital of Peru - Lima, and finally, Iquitos - a city in the heart of the Peruvian Amazon.
Twenty-four hours of pure flight. Another twenty-four hours - transfers, transitions, connections, boarding, waiting... Everything mixed and turned upside down: time, winter, summer, cardinal directions. We are entering another world.
One hundred and fifty years ago, in the place where the Itaya River flows into the Amazon, in a remote thicket, stood the huts of an indigenous Iquitos camp. In 1860, Jesuits arrived here and began converting the indigenous people to Christianity. Later, several white men came and zealously began to exterminate the pagans and settle in their huts. Thus, a settlement named after the exterminated Indians arose - Iquitos.
Thanks to its beautiful location on the banks of the Amazon, Iquitos quickly grew. The early 20th century, when everyone was swept up in the rubber boom, was a time of flourishing and enrichment for Iquitos. But even now, Iquitos holds significant economic importance. It is the only point for exporting products produced throughout the entire Peruvian Amazon, with its vast areas covered by impenetrable jungles. It seems incredible, but Iquitos has no land connection to the center of the country. You can only reach it by plane or via the Amazon from Brazil.
Today, Iquitos is a first-class seaport, despite being 4,600 kilometers from the Atlantic Ocean.
In Iquitos, we were met by a guide named Jimmy. The young Indian had something of Mowgli about him; he spoke very little English, but strangely, we understood each other.
Dirty, windowless buses and motorcycles filled the tropical city like ants. After passing through the noisy one-story neighborhoods, we reached the riverbank and boarded a low motorboat, which sped like a torpedo along the Ucayali River (the main tributary of the Amazon).
Leaving the large water behind, we turned into the right tributary of the Mamón River. For about forty minutes, the boat flew over the dark green surface of the water, spraying a fan of splashes at every sharp turn, of which there were countless. It was wonderful here, and the first impression was that you had entered a paradise that would embrace you as soon as you docked at the shore. But as soon as the boat approached the shore or slowed down, the view opened up to a picture of the humid rainforest. The banks, in essence, did not exist; the trees were swimming in the water...
But soon we docked at the shore. Here we were welcomed by a hotel. More precisely, it was a complex of wooden cottages with thatched roofs. Instead of windows, there were dense nets, and instead of paths, wooden walkways on stilts. Bright flowers and parrots adorned the lawns. The center of the complex could be considered the dining room, built around two giant palm trees. At the height of their crowns, the structure ended with an observation deck that offered a captivating view of the Amazon. In the center of this tourist reed village was a beautiful pool with dazzling blue water.
