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We walked down a series of creaky steps to the waterfront.  Under and around the steps was a disgusting mix of muddy gunk and people's trash and offal; naturally, I managed to drop my bottle of sunscreen in this gunk (and very hesitantly picked it out of the grimy mess).  Pedro helped us onto a little speedboat; we turned to wave goodbye to César, the motor crackled to a start, and we were off.

As we made our way down the Amazon,

Pedro -- in his accented, rather fluent English -- chatted with us about the history and culture of the river, and about where we were from.  With genuine unknowingness, he asked us to describe the difference between Chinese people and Japanese people (he didn't have any idea that China and Japan have separate cultures and languages, let alone separate countries).  Around us, the waters of the Amazon served as the equivalent of a jungle thoroughfare, with midsize cargo and passenger vessels frequently passing by.  The shores of the river were lined with huts and small towns, making obvious the vital role the waters played as a lifeline for local cultural and economic well-being.  It certainly looked different from what I'd expected, but riding on the river was a transcendent experience all the same.

At the mouth of the Timicuro, an Amazon riverlet, we pulled up to another speedboat and its pair of crew members, waiting to shuttle us to our lodge.  As we were about to switch boats, Pedro beckoned us to be silent, calling our attention back to the middle of the Amazon.  We peered off in the distance -- and in a couple moments, the reason for our heed surfaced: a gray Amazon river dolphin, too far to be photographed, came up for air.  Before this trip, I'd never even known that freshwater dolphins existed; some of the lodge publicity information promised that we'd see pink river dolphins, but Pedro informed us that, sadly, sightings had grown relatively rare.  For this day, a gray freshwater dolphin would have to do.

We transferred ourselves and our bags to the second motorboat.

As the first boat sputtered away, we made our way down the much narrower -- and shallower -- Timicuro River. 

The water, as it turned out, was a little too shallow; several times, our crew (and Pedro) had to stop the motor and leap into the river to manually heave the boat forward and around muddy obstacles.  After a few episodes, however, we made our way into deeper waters, and we were in the clear.

We made our way to our third and final river of the day -- the Yanayacu -- which doubled as the site of our jungle lodge.  Speeding along,

we observed Amazon wildlife

and a verdant landscape.

Finally, after nearly two total hours of boat travel, we arrived at our destination.  We pulled up to a little wooden platform on the side of the river -- a little dock -- and got off the boat.  We walked up and were greeted by the sight of the Amazon Lodge

and its feathery inhabitants.

The Amazon Lodge was a full-fledged resort featuring a large dining hall and twenty or so rooms, all hand-built from wood and reeds -- and elevated above ground, to account for the higher water levels during the rainy season. 

Inside the dining hall, I met Julio, who lived at the lodge year-round with his wife and two kids; Eutimio (or "Leo" for short, he said), another tour guide; and Carlos, one of the three Chinese people César had been referring to back at the airport (and the first Chinese person I've ever met who spoke mostly Chinese and Spanish, and little English).  They all seemed like friendly folks, but alas for them, our attention was drawn by the lodge's furriest residents: a pair of cute little night monkeys.

By now, it was midday, so food was well in order -- and, to my great surprise and enjoyment -- the meals at the lodge were easily the best I'd had anywhere in the country (even including actual restaurants in the cities).  The first lunch featured chicken, fried piranhas (caught by Carlos during an earlier fishing excursion), pasta, rice, plantains, and more.  Literally homemade -- by Julio's family -- it was a buffet-style taste of what the Amazon had to offer. 

After lunch, the plan was for us to break for a couple hours, then reconvene with Pedro, Eutimio, Carlos, Christina, and Lee (the latter two being Carlos' coworkers from Lima, and all three originally being from China) for a hike through the rainforest and a visit with some "natives."  So I settled in to witness monkey shenanigans,

the view from the room,

and another feathery friend.

However, the rainforest is aptly named, and it doesn't make accommodations for any itinerary, no matter how meticulously planned.  Even in the dry season, you get some stormy weather on occasion, and that first afternoon was one of those occasions.  It almost felt like a movie: upon the first crack of thunder, the rain started falling hard, and after a few minutes, it became pretty clear it wasn't going to let up anytime soon.  Just like that, our first-day activities were rained out, replaced with an afternoon and evening of lounging around the lodge.

After all the traveling, though, I can't say having an opportunity to rest was a bad thing.  We sat in the dining hall, where Pedro and Eutimio gave me some impromptu guitar and drumming lessons.  With the soothing sound of falling rain as the backdrop, it was not a bad way to wile away the hours.  Pedro displayed his rather impressive  musical talents, singing and playing songs from various South American countries, with Eutimio on the drums; every few songs, the two of them traded off, giving Eutimio the chance to show that he was no slouch either with the guitar and vocals.

That night, our group enjoyed another delicious homecooked meal.  After dinner, night had fallen and the rain had subsided, so Pedro and Julio took me and Tammy on a night cruise down the river.  In pitch darkness -- with thousands of crickets and other jungle inhabitants providing the audial ambiance -- we slowly and quietly floated down the river.  Using our flashlights, we illuminated sources of sound that emerged from the din, spotting a kingfisher here and there.  After about a half hour or so of this, I was getting to think that our search for wildlife had been pretty unsuccessful, when Pedro spotted a pair of tiny red glowing eyes peeking out of the water, from under some fallen branches.  "Baby crocodile," he said.  When you're in the Amazon, even the baseline for a "pretty unsuccessful" trip is pretty high.

Back at the lodge, all of us joined up for some more songs, featuring the musical styles of Pedro and Eutimio on the vocals and guitar, and yours truly on the drums.  Once we were through, it was time to turn in.  The Amazon at night provides its own soundtrack, with the chorus of thousands upon thousands of animals blending into one almost lyrical natural lullaby.  I'd never heard anything like it, and I doubt I ever will again.  I don't know if I've ever slept more peacefully.

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