I slept poorly on our first night of camping out of doors, kept awake by the desire to not wear earplugs in a strange and possibly dangerous place, with no walls to keep out animal or man. There was a great cacophony of sound, pleasant but complicated and intellectually stimulating, bad for sleep. One sound in particular haunted me, a mammal call (I later learned) similar to the rattling of bones.

Eventually the night ended, and we arose, ate delicious fried fish, potatoes and bananas with coffee. It was our first breakfast without any friends of Señor and Señora present, and we talked about some quite personal matters. I felt like we understood each other better, and that we did not seem as strange to our hosts as they learned that we have the same sort of human problems as they.

I did make an unpleasant discovery shortly after breakfast, which was that I had contracted worms. However, since i did not feel bad, i did not let it bother me much, and I did gain a certain amount of excitement when Señor promised to make me a traditional plant remedy.

Soon, we continued on our way – our last day moving forward into the wilderness before we began our return. We saw red howler monkeys quite clearly in some trees near the riverbank as we began, including a mother and child, followed by a whole troop of little squirrel monkeys, with adorable little faces and large eyes. Señor imitated their calls and they came even further out over the river on their branches to investigate.

We also saw several ring-necked kingfishers, a common bird we had seen before and which I admired for its handsome mallard-green body and striking black and white heads. Señor calls these birds martins pescadors. Strangely, it is St. Peter and not St. Martin who is the patron saint of fishermen.

We were not traveling so far this day, so we stopped en route to a location of dry(ish) land and took a walk through the jungle, with Señor making our way with his machete. It was hot, and buggy, and we were glad of our mosquito repellent clothing, but it was wonderful to see the stilt-root trees and the buttressed-root trees up close. We also came across a man with a rifle, and Señor told us that this was ok, because the man was hunting within the legal limit to feed himself and his family.

Continuing on, we reached another cabana, this one in far better repair than the first. Some laundry and a backpack told us that we would not be alone on this night. Señor informed us that he and señora had lived there for a year and had put a lot of work into the cabana. However, he said, now many people used it to sleep in, but they did not upkeep the gardens or improve the structure in any way. Nevertheless, the floor was solid and so was the roof, and there were sturdy posts where we promptly tied our hammocks.

Several fishermen returned, one of them obviously very ill. There was a tense conversation, with some significant glances in our direction, but I could not understand all the talk. Eventually, Señor explained to me that the sick man had a terrible headache. I, of course, offered ibuprofen, and then the Professor and I talked about how best to help, not being doctors. The man was already resting, and the Professor said fluids were the next most important thing, so I asked the other fisherman, through Señor, if the sick man had been drinking. His fellow replied nothing to eat or drink for three days! We had already noted, during the trip, that the people here drink very little – just a handful of river water on occasion, and lemonade from the local limons at lunch, much less than I would expect for hard workers like themselves. They do, however, eat a good deal of salt, and fish and yucca in broth.

I told them that the ibuprofen should be taken with lots of water. They did not look at me as if I were a pretentious ass for advising them on how to take Advil. The previous day’s adventure, this day’s experience, and further adventures instilled in me new appreciation for the medicine of richer countries. Ibuprofen is a precious rarity here where people are poor and all goods are brought in by slow boat. At home I buy generic bottles of 1,000 pills at Target.

I asked how the man became ill, and was told a story that beggars belief, and I still do not know if Señor told me this because he believes it to be true, or because he thought it was a good story, or because the truth is bad for tourist to know and he knew his tale would leave me speechless. It was this: three days prior, when the man was out seeking food for his family in the forest, he came across a young snake, which he tried to kill. He failed to do so, and the little beast called for its mother, who then gave the man the evil eye! The serpent can spit venom, but did not, in this case – merely gazed upon him.

It is possible that I have misunderstood the details of this story, but I asked several times about the gist and the answer was the same – the old snake eyes got to him.

He also had a fever. I put a cool washcloth on his head and refreshed it a few times. I did not get the washcloth back, but I didn’t want it anyway.

Two bufeo dolphins passed us on the river.

While we lolled in hammocks and did some laundry in the river, and Senora cooked for us, señor carved us a walking path in the jungle with his machete. That night, we viewed it in the darkness, with the moonlight illuminating small blue windows of foliage. We saw a tarantula, and tapir tracks.

– The Private Eye