We were met at our hotel in the morning by Jim Davis, part owner of the Hummingbird - an ayahuasca retreat centre located forty minutes north of Iquitos by motokar. Max, the resident driver, raced along the only road leaving the city. As we sped through the claustrophobic streets buildings gradually surrendered to the jungle. We passed the rural-urban fringe where, due to Peruvian laws concerning squatters' rights, large groups of new houses are being built literally overnight. Once in place, with sufficient inhabitants, these settlements are nearly impossible to remove. Urban sprawl is only too alive and well in the Amazon. We eventually left the tarmac and drove a couple of kilometres down a dirt road to the centre. We were accompanied on the way by a huge dog, an impressive specimen who kept pace alongside the motokar. This was Bindi, a beautiful dog and the first of a fine collection of animals living at the Hummingbird.
On arrival, the boys who had been bouncing along with us down the dirt track jumped off. One of them, Georgie, was a great young lad and the stepson of Jim who'd married his mother, Gina, a year before. Along with this family, the centre was home to Tracie Thornberry, a wonderful Australian woman and the founder of the centre. Mark, her brother, was also living there along with Paul Statton, an ex-lecturer in economics who had decided to change career paths completely and now worked in healing people using 'energy'. In addition there were a team of about eight locals working in the kitchens and gardens, all of whom were friendly and cheerful. Then there were the volunteers, travellers staying at the centre for a while and working in return for the opportunity to work with ayahuasca on a regular basis. Liz and Rory, both originally from northern England and Jai, an American with a great sense of humour and amazing flute playing ability.
In addition to the human presence were four dogs; the aforementioned Bindi, the ever-humble Moona, Blankita the burglar alarm and cheeky little Frankie, a tiny dog with enough testosterone to more than handle the overwhelming presence of bitches. The cat, Joanie, was the long suffering feline presence, not only tormented by the dogs but also by the master tormentor himself, a capuchin monkey called Flloyd. Flloyd had arrived at the centre when a vet, who was raising him after his mother had been killed by hunters, decided a city apartment was no place for a monkey and asked if he could live at the Hummingbird. Instantly charming, his boisterous antics were a source of non-stop entertainment. Every day we would return to our room to find our belongings strewn everywhere. Toilet paper hanging from hooks, chewed-open packets of painkillers and disappeared semi-precious stones. During our first night we had lain down to sleep when I heard something jump on the mosquito net. Terrified it was the big, brown, deadly spider we'd heard about I nervously poked the small lump above us. The little trill we heard told us Flloyd had come to visit. When I tried to get him down he clung to my arm and refused to let go for over half an hour. Eventually he urinated on me before scampering off. Never have I met such a playful, naughty little animal. Brilliant.
We were referred to as 'clients' or, my preferred term, '
pasajeros'. As well as myself, the other 'passengers' included my better half and a Scandinavian couple - Asger from Denmark and Kristen from Norway. Although the two of us had drunk ayahuasca before it was their first time. However, they'd done their research and, as a result, had an outlook of eager anticipation combined with a little respectful nervousness. Spot on.
The facilities at the Hummingbird suited me fine. There were buildings for the workers and volunteers at one end of the site. In the centre was a large house which could sleep thirteen upstairs with an open plan dining/living/relaxing space. A large area of decking overlooking a lake and the forest completed this building - the hub of activity. Nearby were outside areas for relaxing including a picnic table and hammock shelter. Two other large houses were close by used by the owners, Tracie and Jim. Sanitation was in the form of compost toilets which were really well maintained, with human waste being turned into humanure for the attractive gardens and growing plots. A water tower was filled daily using a generator and prodvided fresh water from a natural source for washing in the shower blocks. Finally, and most impressive, was the
maloka. A circular ceremonial space which could hold up to seventeen
pasajeros on any given night. It's floor and lower walls were wooden with mesh windows to let in light and keep out bugs. The roof was a clever construction which resembled a spider's web. Quite a building! Further into the jungle were trails that led to
tambos, isolated huts used to give people the quiet time they needed. The whole place was, in effect, without electricity - except the small, intermittent supply from the generator. Oil lamps were used in the darkness and the natural rhythm of day and night were more apparent. Stars aplenty glittered across the firmament whilst the dusk orchestral chorus of frogs, birds, insects and mammals soothed us all into early sleep.
We were met at our hotel in the morning by Jim Davis, part owner of the Hummingbird - an ayahuasca retreat centre located forty minutes north of Iquitos by motokar. Max, the resident driver, raced along the only road leaving the city. As we sped through the claustrophobic streets buildings gradually surrendered to the jungle. We passed the rural-urban fringe where, due to Peruvian laws concerning squatters' rights, large groups of new houses are being built literally overnight. Once in place, with sufficient inhabitants, these settlements are nearly impossible to remove. Urban sprawl is only too alive and well in the Amazon. We eventually left the tarmac and drove a couple of kilometres down a dirt road to the centre. We were accompanied on the way by a huge dog, an impressive specimen who kept pace alongside the motokar. This was Bindi, a beautiful dog and the first of a fine collection of animals living at the Hummingbird.
In addition to the human presence were four dogs; the aforementioned Bindi, the ever-humble Moona, Blankita the burglar alarm and cheeky little Frankie, a tiny dog with enough testosterone to more than handle the overwhelming presence of bitches. The cat, Joanie, was the long suffering feline presence, not only tormented by the dogs but also by the master tormentor himself, a capuchin monkey called Flloyd. Flloyd had arrived at the centre when a vet, who was raising him after his mother had been killed by hunters, decided a city apartment was no place for a monkey and asked if he could live at the Hummingbird. Instantly charming, his boisterous antics were a source of non-stop entertainment. Every day we would return to our room to find our belongings strewn everywhere. Toilet paper hanging from hooks, chewed-open packets of painkillers and disappeared semi-precious stones. During our first night we had lain down to sleep when I heard something jump on the mosquito net. Terrified it was the big, brown, deadly spider we'd heard about I nervously poked the small lump above us. The little trill we heard told us Flloyd had come to visit. When I tried to get him down he clung to my arm and refused to let go for over half an hour. Eventually he urinated on me before scampering off. Never have I met such a playful, naughty little animal. Brilliant.
We were referred to as 'clients' or, my preferred term, 'pasajeros'. As well as myself, the other 'passengers' included my better half and a Scandinavian couple - Asger from Denmark and Kristen from Norway. Although the two of us had drunk ayahuasca before it was their first time. However, they'd done their research and, as a result, had an outlook of eager anticipation combined with a little respectful nervousness. Spot on.
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