A monologue

I was in Manaus. And I was thinking:

“I have travelled a great distance on the rivers, all the way from Pucallpa on the edge of the Andes in Peru, all the Ucayali river until it merges with the Amazon, all the way to Iquitos and all the way to the Brazilian border and even almost a week further down via  Benjamin Constant and Fonte Boa to Manaus, in the middle of the Brazilian Amazon. Here, the river has come together with several others and is really wide. It is in fact so wide that large Atlantic cruisers easily can sail up it and Manaus is therefore an international harbour, some 1500 km from the sea.”

A great thought, isn’t it? It goes on:

“I could now continue on the river. It’s only five more days in hammock-boat down to Belem, on the Atlantic delta. It would certainly be cool to have travelled ALL the Amazon river. Yes, let’s do that, let’s go to Belem!”

After making a few plans, I started to think about the consequences:

“I don’t really WANT to go down to Belem, do I? I definitely don’t want to sleep five nights in another crowded hammock-boat. Hmm, what will I see along the way? The river is so wide now and sailing downstream, they always go in the middle to catch the fastest current. I would need binoculars to even see the trees. Can I buy binoculars in Manaus maybe? But wait, TREES! I definitely don’t want to see another tree! And I really really don’t want to see anymore of the river. Neither shower in brown water; this far downstream it may be really polluted and what if someone has taken a pee in my shower-water? And the lunch with rice and beans and chicken - oh please no, no more rice and beans!”

And I came to the final conclusion:

“Screw it all. For what I know they could burn this terrible shit down and make plantations. Been there, seen it. Now I need the beach!”

I went online and bought a last-minute flight ticket to Recife, on the Brazilian east coast.