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 From
39,000 feet the sky’s reflection made the lakes and meandering rivers look like
puddles and ribbons of molten lead. Having departed Brasilia, the capitol of Brasil, I was
bound for Manaus and the mighty Amazon and rain forests of northern Brazil.
With barely 18 hours notice, I was invited to see for
myself the Ariau Towers, a fantastic jungle complex 30 miles down river from Manaus. I was
well into the trip before I learned the correct pronunciation of Ariau. It sounds like
"Ah-ee-eye-oo." Hey, it grows on you after you repeat it several times.
The invitation had been extended by TAM Brazilian
Airlines and the kind people at the Towers in celebration of a new air route from Miami.
The trip from Miami takes only five hours, even though you are transported fully from one
world to another. As usual, the service aboard Brazilian airlines is a study in
professionalism and courtesy. They fed us about every 5 minutes and the drink cart was up
and down the aisle all the time. The difference between any Brazilian airline and their
American cousins are like the difference between daylight and dark. The real star, though,
was the brevity of the trip..just 5 hours. We stayed in Manaus only long enough to take on
more food, and then we were off to Brasilia for a couple of days, which is another story.
Now, I was on my way back to Manaus.
The vast checkerboard fields below, which is the rival
of the American mid-west, abruptly gave way to a sea of green as far as the eye could see.
On and on the plane flew over the vast Amazon rain forest. I could but wonder at the
mysteries and marvels that lay beneath the green canopy below.
From the Manaus airport we were taken by bus to the
Tropical Manaus Hotel located on the shores of the Amazon. Awaiting us was a double decked
boat similar to a party fishing boat that you have seen at seaside resorts here in the
U.S. We boarded and headed for the Towers.
 Since the trip was in June, the river was at
its high point, and I must confess, it is a wonder to behold. It is an ocean of moving
water. From Manaus to the Towers is a straight shot, and as the tallest building
disappeared over the horizon, some 30 miles and two hours behind us. Finally, we caught
our first glimpse of the Towers. It’s a funny thing, the Ariau, at first sight, is
both more and less than you expect. The complex is smaller than the advertising’s
pictures suggested. But as you learn your way around, only then does the magnitude of the
operation become apparent.
 The Towers is a collection of huge rounded
huts, with a 7 kilometer boardwalk through the surrounding jungle. Service is magically
provided by what must be a huge, but unseen staff. In this respect it reminds you of a
theme park. It is, by its isolation, a logistical 8th wonder in well oiled
workmanship. Not only did I not see the support staff, but I didn’t even think about
them until well after I had returned home. Since I’m the kind of person who loves to
know how things work, I mentally kicked myself several times for not exploring this
portion of Ariau closer.
In all fairness, the reason I didn’t think of it
was because they keep you running. Ariau is not meant as a place of rest, per se, though
hammocks are everywhere. It’s a place of learning. You will be very impressed at the
great lengths they go to teach you about the Amazon and the rain forest. That’s
really what the trip is about.
 The first thing I noticed when I stepped off
the boat were the monkeys. They are everywhere! The literature urges you not to play with
them, and I took them at their word. Who are you going to blame if one of the resident
monkeys is having a bad day and decides to have some finger food? Thus, later, I was
surprised to see the owner defying the house rule by petting one. They truly are
irresistible. I did have a couple of pictures taken of me with them.
The rooms are great, and are air conditioned. During
the time I was there they were in a rare cool spell, the temps were down into the 80's.
During the hottest part of the day though, the humidity gets really high, and you will
sweat. Be prepared for it.
The rooms are hardwood from floor to ceiling with a
little screened in balcony where you can sit in and survey your good fortune. The screens
keep the monkeys out, but you shouldn’t be surprised to see one swing by
occasionally. The maids are relentless. The moment you leave, they will be in your room
straightening, and you’ll find a candy on your pillow when you return.
A steady supply of liquids is a must, and water is
taken from the bottle. The tap water is undrinkable, as you’ll discover upon brushing
your teeth. It’s rather bitter, because of the pervasive tannic acid from the rain
forest.
The region undergoes an annual cycle. During the rainy
season (When we were told it rains more) the river gets up and floods inland creating a
myriad of waterways and swamps. The leaves and vegetation fall into the water and it
becomes quite acidic from tannic acid. Because of this, mosquitoes have a very hard time
of it. I personally never saw one, even though the whole area is a huge swamp behind the
Towers. During the dry season, (When we were told it rains less) the water recedes,
leaving dry ground. If the forest survives, no doubt, this will be a dandy oil or coal
field in a few million years.
 The Towers also sports a really nice
restaurant where you take your meals buffet style, several shops selling everything from
fine junk to great jewelry, a fairly complete general store, a very friendly bar, and even
a computer room where you can check email and send "wish you were here" mail to
your poor stay at home friends. In short, all the necessities of life and happiness are
well provided for.
 The philosophy of the Towers seems to be to get you in,
tour you at a fast pace, and see you off. You can go there and lay around in hammocks up
front or even a mile or two down in the swamp if you like, but you would be wasting your
money if you did. The secret is to do the tours you are paying for. Starting with the boat
ride to get to the Towers, you are in for a great and informative time.
One of our guides, a huge refrigerator (side-by-side
model) of a guy, easily one of the largest and most muscled, but friendly Brazilians I
have ever met, served two, one year hitches with the Brasilian Marines. Yes, even though
Brazil has never been known to actually need marines, they have them. He allowed that he
had joined to learn jungle survival. The final test, he said, is straight forward - they
drop you out in the middle of the Amazon jungle, and if you walk out, you pass.
Your tours are not merely fun rides in the long canoe
like boats. They are a true learning experience. You will be much the wiser about the
Amazon story by the time you are through. I could go on for pages with the things we were
taught. I don’t know that any of our guides were professors, but they should have
been. They taught us a great deal about what makes the Amazon rain forest work.
 The starting tour is the boardwalk. We walked
a goodly distance into the forest. One of the first things we saw was a three toed sloth
agonizingly slowly ascending a tree. Now, you don’t see one of those every day.
The creator of the Towers, we learned, is something of
a mystic. Way out in the woods, he has constructed a power pyramid that you can sit in and
gather rays. There is also a self supporting tree house that is constructed around a very
tall tree. Here, you can climb into the rain forest canopy and above. In effect, you are
living a National Geographic article.
 The boardwalk is lighted, so you could
conceivably stroll out in the evening, if you wish. As you take the guided tour, you will
be taught many things about the forest habitat. And sadly, there is also what the they
call a moon observatory, deep in the boardwalk. I think I counted three rather expensive
Celestron telescopes ready for use after dark. I say sadly, because I would have loved to
have gone back to play with them. Alas, there was no time. It is a priority on my next
trip.
After supper at the Towers round restaurant we came to
the high-brow portion of our trip as we were invited to a Broadway musical, jungle style.
About 10PM, jungle time, fireworks lit the night sky
beside the one story tower dance hall. They were calling everyone to come see a musical
play about the history of the native Indians meeting the white man. We learned that they
always have musical concerts of some variety on the weekends.P
The round hut contained a stage decorated, naturally,
in a jungle motif. The dancers used the middle of the hut, and the audience was seated
around the periphery on bleachers. The center floor was perhaps 100 feet across. The
ceiling was made of wire with thick vines. The props were set behind the stage, so the
dancers would emerge from stage left .. do their thing ... and retreat, stage right, to
get dressed for the next dance.
The show lasted an hour and a half. Two men
sang the entire time...nonstop. One set would finish and the other would begin. I have no
concept of how they accomplished what they did with the little space they had. There were
no tractor trailer rigs containing props parked behind the hut, as they would have been
parked in the Amazon river. The production could have played Broadway. It was that good.
It began with the earliest Indians being happy, then went through being conquered and
killed, and proceeded until modern times with a happy ending. You didn’t need to know
the language to understand the story or marvel at the Hollywood quality choreography and
beautiful staging. The show could play anywhere in the U.S. to standing room audiences,
and here I was in the middle of the jungle having the time of my life
.
 Morning comes early at the Towers, and you can
expect a knock on the door around 5AM. (By the way, Manaus is on New York, Atlanta, and
Miami time. No jet lag. You don’t have time for it.) Once again, you’ll jump
into your canoe to watch the sun come up over the Amazon. The guides take you on a quiet
reconnaissance of the backwaters, now in daylight, with the hopes of spotting jungle
critters in the process of looking for breakfast. You weave through narrow tall grass
backwater corridors and down slim rain forest breaks. It’s best to keep your camera
handy at all times.
 After the morning safari comes breakfast, Brazilian
style. No bacon, but plenty of eggs, fruit, bread, cheese, ham, and even boiled corn. Also
lots of freshly squeezed exotic juices, and of course you can have a Coke, if you wish.
The next tour was a jungle hike to check out the flora
and fauna. Being the brave and debonair guy that I am decided to skip this one and have a
short nap instead. Afterwards, I ate one of the small and ultimately delicious little
Brazilian bananas I had pilfered from the restaurant, then headed back out to do the
boardwalk by myself. Surprisingly, I didn’t get lost in the maze and had a really
great time walking at my own pace. I took a turn we had not made the night before and
after 45 minutes of walking arrived at the shore of the mighty Amazon and a new,
unfinished, tower. Except for a porter pulling a suitcase behind him headed for who knows
where deep in the forest, I had the whole Amazon to myself. I’ll cherish the memory
always.
Back for lunch, eating some very delicious and
salmon-like freshwater fish, that I had never seen before, I unfolded my itinerary and saw
that the next stop was a tour to a local’s home to see how they live out in the
sticks, fishing, and watching the sunset over the rain forest.
We were back into the canoes. The novelty had already
worn off and I was feeling like an old hand at canoeing the watery jungle paths. Of
course, everyone in the 10 man canoe, except for the guide and driver were always
thoroughly lost all the time. They would be going down a creek and then zip into a narrow
passage through the high grass and come out ... somewhere.
The house on the river where our host family lived and
worked, was a simple affair with a two boat garage. It was a shotgun shack, which for
those of you who don’t know, means that you could stand in the front and shoot a load
of buckshot through the house without ever touching the walls.
Their back yard, which was slightly improved jungle
only, held a treasure trove of tasty plants. Our guide, a sawed off little fellow named
Max, who was beloved by our group, and a wonderful lecturer, showed us where "heart
of palm" comes from, some various berries, and of the most interesting to me
personally, a monstrously large tree sporting some half-coconut sized round pods far up in
the distance. Later, producing one of the seed pods, he whacked it open with a machete to
reveal about a dozen Brazil nuts. Since I have always wondered where they came from, and
not even my Brazilian friends and partners knew, it was a real treat. I asked about twenty
questions about the nuts and he patiently explained all, but I think he already had me
pegged as the trouble maker of the group. I did ask a lot of questions!
Then, he grasped a little twig of a tree, growing only
about 5 feet high. Underneath, he said, was the manioc root. If you recall your National
Geographic or social studies class, you might remember that it is a staple in Brazil, much
like wheat flour is in the U.S. They use it like flour, and as a sprinkle on food they
call farofa. It has the consistency and color of Parmesan cheese. It tastes like...well,
like nothing much at all, but they love it.
In a low shed behind the house they had constructed a
fireplace of brick and mud. In the center top sat the largest cake pan I’ve ever
seen. It must have been four feet across. They grind the manioc root and soak it for a
day. The raw product is poisonous, and the soaking removes it. Afterwards, the gruel is
put into the pan and cooked until it is dry and powdery, and then put into a large burlap
sack to be carried to Manaus to be sold.
We piled back into the boats and ventured into
what passed for the river man’s back yard, a narrow little slew. Just a little way
in, we passed a boat with a couple of what must have been his kids, little jungle
entrepreneurs, who were hawking some bead necklaces. It guess it was old news to the boat
driver, because he just kept going.
 We arrived at the back end of the slew at the
foot of the largest tree I had ever seen. It would have put a California redwood to shame.
You couldn’t see the top. It was a balsa wood tree. I could only marvel and wonder
how many wind up airplanes or model rocket nose cones could be made from this giant of a
tree. Beside it was a much smaller rubber tree. (Foreground in pic.) At one time this part
of the forest had been the rubber capital of the world until a mean person from the far
east carried some seedlings off to start rubber plantations before WWI. Much later in
WWII, the Japanese controlled much of the world’s rubber production, so, in a
roundabout way started the plastics industry in the United States. But, once upon a time,
long ago, the Amazon provided the world with rubber, and Manaus was the world
headquarters.
So how about a little fishing? Max could teach on
a doctorate level about the Amazon in any college in the U.S., but I think as a fishing
guide he left a little to be desired. We anchored on the shoreline in the mouth of a large
slew not far from the Amazon and unlimbered our cane poles. The poles had regular
monofilament line tied on with a 16 gauge copper wire leader on the end with a small hook.
The bait was steak. When was the last time you used round steak as bait? The quarry was
piranha. (Pronounced pee-ron-ya). Unlike what you have been taught about fishing, which is
to be vewy vewy quiet, the proper method of attracting these nasty little fish is to bait
up, cast, and then flail the water with the end of your pole, really frothing up the
water.
Piranha, it seems, are a lot like our crappie. They
school like crappie and are about the same weight, all the way from spoon size to slab
sided. The piranha is considered a trash fish, but are eaten if nothing better is caught
that day. The piranha is the fish from hell. I want to be very clear on this point.
We caught only one that day. A NewYork boy who had
never gone fishing in his life hauled in a hand sized one which Max took great joy in
showing around. He reached overhead and snapped a pencil sized limb from a tree and
inserted it into the fish’s mouth. The piranha proceeded to chomp and with each bite
whittled the limb down a couple of more inches as neatly and easily as your grandma cuts
cloth. Piranha have teeth that would make any dentist proud. Max claimed that you can swim
in the Amazon in safety. No one took him up on his offer. I’m afraid the piranha
fishing tour made all of us look on the Amazon with more respect. Finally, a lady snagged
one and when it flashed to the surface you could see that it would have gone about a pound
and a half. She didn’t land it, because it bit through the leader. We all did our
best to comfort her on her loss, but I don’t think anyone was sad that she missed it.
Not really.
 As the sun sank beneath the clouds on the far
horizon we were parked about a mile from shore on the Amazon. Another canoe passed us and
stirred up a pod of fresh water dolphins. We watched them play for awhile and then raced
the other boat back in, the guides talking on their FM walkie talkies swapping lies about
who caught the most fish.P
 After supper, we boarded the canoes again for
our final foray, this time for a bit of what they call Caiman spotting. A Caiman or jacaré
is the local version of alligator. They grow from petting sized up to non-petting
sized. We idled back and forth in the marshes in total darkness, save for the spot light,
the Milky Way overhead looking like a glowing cloud, until the driver, who must have had
built in radar (I never understood how he saw through all of us to drive) cut his engine
and we drifted to shore. Max leaned over and made his strike and came up with a baby
Caiman about a foot long. He passed it around, demonstrated how you could put it to sleep
by rubbing it’s tummy, and then gently placed it back into the water, unharmed.
 From there we went somewhere ... we never knew
where ... to land at a place that contained a large square building made of wood lashed
together sporting a palm thatched roof. I suppose it was the Amazon version of a long
house. A real Amazon Indian gentleman met us at the door and welcomed us in. The inside
was dimly lit with small smudge pots swinging from the supports. After all the boats
arrived, we witnessed a native dance. There were perhaps a half dozen couples, all decked
out in jungle wear just like in the National Geo. The men had a gourd tied to their right
leg which rattled when they stepped and each had a flute. The man who met us at the door
grabbed his partner and started running around the room blowing his flute and keeping time
with his gourd. The others joined in forming a samba train, literally running and dancing,
snaking this way and that, and the whole thing lasted for a half hour. The melody was
short and haunting, the rattling gourds adding to the mystery of the dance-run, and on and
on they went. I marveled at their stamina. It wasn’t very cool, the leader was an old
guy, and I was wishing he was on our Olympic team. They apologized for the abbreviated
dance ritual, saying that normally it lasts three days.
Afterwards, we were invited to sample some delicious
BBQ jacaré which tasted a like pork, and sample some homebrew beer.
We later learned that the natives had recently come
down river to seek a better life, and were hired by the Towers. In a way, I felt like I
was prying and being nosy, sitting there in that long house watching their dance, but they
were so friendly and happy, maybe it was just me. They were actors, yes, but they were
acting what they had grown up doing, and recently.
This brief narrative is not intended as a substitute for the real
thing. I have only briefly touched on all the things I saw and learned on my Amazon
journey. My personal notes go on for 22 pages. It's a bald faced attempt to get you to
thinking about how you can go enjoy the Amazon.
I can tell you from personal experience that the Amazon
is nothing like I thought it would be. It was at the same time more, and less, than my
experiences through National Geographic and TV had led me to believe. It was a wondrous
journey of learning and adventure. Even the bugs and snakes are marvelously trained to
stay out of sight. The guides took full credit for that.
The Amazon can be yours my friend. It’s only 5
hours past MouseWorld in Florida. I’m talking a whole new continent of learning, just
a brief overnight trip from all that you know to all that you have never known, but can
learn. I heartily encourage you to make the trip. I am forever in debt to TAM and the
Ariau Towers for making my trip possible. Eventually I would have gone anyway; and now I
know - I’m going back!
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