El rio in reverse...

A bus to Brasília followed by a flight the next day and I was back in the heat and humidity of Manaus once again.  As I touched down, I recalled the last thing I'd thought as I disembarked the boat that had originally carried me down the Amazon to this jungle city: 'There were some good points about that journey but I'm glad I never have to do it again!'  Fate, however, had other plans for me.  The reason I'd returned to Manaus was the arrival of my girlfriend from Venezuela accompanied by her friend.  The idea was to get back on a boat and journey on the Amazon once more.  On this occasion we would be going upstream which meant the time aboard would be almost double.  Not a prospect I savoured but the price would be worth the reward.

After two day's drenching in the torrential rain of Manaus, we arrived at the dock with not much time to spare.  The Manuel Morteigo was similar to the Sagrado Coração de Jesus which had brought me downstream but, as we were late, there was hardly any room left.   Somehow we managed to string up three hammocks next to each other, completely splitting a group of teenagers by placing our hammocks between, above and below them.  They looked on mystified and in shock as a sweaty Gringo destroyed any plans they'd had of a comfortable journey.  The bar of chocolate given as a peace offering seemed far from adequate.  Once we were as settled as possible I looked round to see a scene resembling a São Paulo prison.  Bodies everywhere.  This would be a test for us all.

Every time we say goodbye...

The crowd at Catavento, one of the best campsites I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, were kind enough to join me in celebrating my departure.  We headed to Jambalaya, an excellent restaurant.  Good food, great music, top notch company and plenty of wine (the latter being ill-advised after ayahuasca) were abundant.  

Afterwards we headed to a private house where we'd been invited to a party.  On arrival we were met by a timeless scene.  About forty people surrounded a blazing fire, musicians played guitars and people sang songs in the style I had become so familiar with.  Our entrance caught the attention of the host and he took the next break in the music as an opportunity to speak to the assembled masses.  Picking out words from the Portuguese oration, I was able to work out his words were welcoming us.  He spoke for about five minutes mentioning phrases like 'we're all one family' whilst slowly building to a witty punchline in a well delivered crescendo.  As the final words were voiced the crowd laughed, cheered and clapped before the music began once more.  Several times during the hour or so we were there the host would speak in this way, each time providing a little pearl of wisdom for the eager crowd.

Returning to Catavento, we stayed up until the early hours talking about how lucky we were to be able to attend the Eagle Condor Festival.  A few drinks later, I crashed on an outdoor sofa a very happy man.  Happy to have been there, happy with where I was going and happy to provide the many mosquitos with a feast.  In the morning I left very early with a sizeable hangover and so many bites across my shoulders and chest my torso resembled a red and pink Via Láctea (Milky Way).