well, today´s the big day. my boat is scheduled to leave around 5, but i´m under the impression that these things never leave on time. i paid for my passage, got my bags locked up in a cabin, bought a cheap hammock and got some help from a dude on deck to string it up for me, 5 litres of water, and survived the tiringly endless attention from all the men loading cargo at the dock. i have found this to be the worst here that i have ever encountered, and i can´t lie and say it doesn´t bother me. it´s worse than just the looks i´m accustomed to, it´s disgusting kissing noises, the kind you make when trying to coax a pet towards you. alex wasn´t lying when he told me the people in the jungle are friendly, sure! the men all want a piece of me. every corner i turn i hear a, hay-loo meez! for the first few days here i felt extremely threatened by it, but i constantly have to remind myself that it doesn´t mean anything, they´re not trying to rape me or rob me, they´re just being, well, latin men, i guess.
there seems to be an imbalance of the sexes in this city. i noticed it my first day here, while orientating my self with the city on my initial customary stroll. for every woman i´d see there were 15 men! this is not even an exaggeration. this is especially true along the entire strip along the docks, where there are almost no females whatsoever to be spotted.
i´ve spent some time there, on the short cement wall that lines the garbage strewn slope to the waterfront, watching the shipping action take place, and a few cloudy but nonetheless fantastic jungle sunsets. the sky is usually at it´s peak beauty around 6, when faint shades of red and luminous gold animate thick heavy clouds in those dramatic moments before dark encompasses the city. to the right of the clocktower, which chimes every quarter hour, a small rowdy circus of mismatched tents of faded blues and reds boast a show of makeshift restaurants serving tables of dirty working men on the muddy shore. there are a few ´floating´houses just a few meters off, with small rickety canoes being utilized as bridges.
the small park at the waterfront has meandering sidewalks rippling outward from the clocktower, here too i see mostly men leaning against the cement divider in clusters, or single men solemnly stationed on stout cement benches smattering the grounds, casually lifting a cigarette to the lips, brown sheen of leathery faces, and character is undecipherable when my eyes meet with those dark and untelling. icecream vendors slowly push their carts along the walkways in the scorching heat burning sun, practically mumbling with tired lazy mouths, at anyone who shows the slightest sign of interest in purchasing. just making eye contact with a street vendor usually turns you into a target momentarily, then must proceed the shaking of the head and mouthing the word no.
i arrived here around 5 oclock in the morning from huanuco on a cramped and stuffy bus with seats that barely reclined and almost no possible way of stretching out my legs. we passed through the country´s major coca growing region, thereby making it one of the most dangerous routes, especially making the passage overnight, when frequent hijackings and armed robberies have taken place. this fact was reinforced when a guard equipped with a rifle and a bullet proof vest strapped onto his chest boarded the bus, made some kind of little speech, and took a seat up front by the driver. i couldn´t help but feel a little on edge for the first hour or two, but i soon let go and fell into a sound sleep. my eyelids fluttered open to the city flashing by my window ignited by silent lighting bursting through the cloudy sky.
on my second morning here, i awoke with a little more energy than i´d been feeling in a while, and i was in a good mood. the day that would follow was more fluid and rewarding than i could ever have hoped for. it felt like each time i needed to step in a different direction to reach my destination, there was someone to point somewhere that would lead me on. around 11 i easily nabbed one of the thousands of rumbling mototaxis that rule the streets, and was bounced and jostled in the storm of flying dust for the distance to yarina, a small town on the lake yarinacocha. i asked my young driver with slick sunglasses if there was a place i could find a guide to tour me around the small indigenous communities along the river that i had read about. he didn´t know but he pointed towards a big shop on the plaza, an artesan coop for the shipibo community, where i browsed the beautiful handembroidered fabrics and felt that kick of shameful lustful fashion urge, (ah, i need this, i want that) for the rustic looking skirts and tops with traditional shipibo patterns embroidered on the natural fabrics. i hadn´t seen any crafts so far quite like these. i resisted buying for the time being, but asked one of the numerous friendly women in the shop who were practically following me around while i gently looked at everything for sale, if there were guides to the communities. communication was a little off, but one of the ladies walked me down a few blocks to the docks where a bunch of little colorfully painted boats, each boasting thier own name on the front, were bobbing up and down along the shore. you are trying to go to san francisco? she said. i shrugged my shoulders and said yes, guessing this was the most well known of the communities. a few were full with people, and one of these she pointed to, it was a ´colectivo´boat that would take me to the community about an hour down the river for about 70 cents. i sat down in one of the few benches that had space left, bumping my head twice on the very lowlying roof, recieving a round of careful! from observing passengers. a few minutes later the boat pulled away and the motor began to chug. a girl next to me, in a pink shirt and a sweet voice, asked me what my name was. we talked a little bit, covering the usual ground, where are you from, how long are you in peru, which places have you been to in peru, when do you return to your country, and, without a doubt, if she had been a man, i would´ve got, single or married? as well. then the noise from the motor became too loud to hear each other´s soft voices. as soon as i had stepped into the boat i got such a different feel from what i´d felt tormented by in pucallpa. it was as though i had stepped into a family where i was unconditionally included in, everyone knew each other and were laughing with each other. there were women in their traditional dress with children on their laps.
after i paid the fair and stepped up unto the dock, walking towards the lightcolored dirt road, unsure of where to go or what to do, karla, the girl from the boat, approached my side. how old are you? 15, she said. and you? 20. oh, i thought you were 18. (i get that all the time. everyone thinks i´m at least 2 years younger than i actually am, i guess it´s my face) she guided me around the community, first stopping at her house, where she set two glasses on a little wobbly table outside, and we shared a bottle of water. it was exactly what i needed. i met some of her cousins and her sister, friendly and curious, and i thought- finally, among women. then we passed by the much smaller and barer version of the artesan shop i´d been in earlier, past her school, and then to the little plaza, at it´s center, a little area that was roofed by a sculpted turtle. we sat there and had conversation that was slow and gapped with silences, but she seemed content to be spending her afternoon with me, though i felt a little bit awkward. you are my first canadian friend, she said, i have met french, german, and japanese, but never a canadian. then she mentioned that her father was a shaman, and that foreigners came to a place, in which she pointed the direction, where they could stay and take ayahuasca. she told me that there had been a group of japanese guys that had been there for 6 months studying this, and natural medicine, with her dad. hmmm, i was thinking, maybe....i´m hungry, she said. i was too. we´ll go to my house and cook together, she said. her house was divided into three sort of huts, built with wood and thatched roofs, one for cooking and eating, and the other two with bedrooms. i was sort of surprised by such modern cooking utensils that were there, like the brand new ricecooker gleaning in the barebones room. first we sliced plantains that she cut off from a gord lying against the door, nearing the end of it´s days, only a few greenish fruits still clinging to it. my slices were awkward and knobby, with no consistency in the width, well i´ve never been good with knives, while she quickly and efficiently slit the plantains into perfect slices. she assigned me the job of rinsing the rice. i had to use water from the large basin at the side of the sink because there was only running water between certain hours in the morning and the evening. she also assigned me the job of frying the plantains in a skillet with about 2 inches of oil. (man, no wonder i´ve put on a little weight) while she took care of the rice in the cooker and prepared the lemonade. after i awkwardly fished out the plantains from the jumping spitting pan of oil, she fried the eggs. once the rice was ready we sat down and had our meal.i was grateful because i hadn´t had breakfast that morning and thought i would get something to eat there, but i learned that there were no restaurants. this little angel was taking care of all my needs!
i, forcing myself to put forth a little initiative, washed all the dishes, albeit a little awkwardly, slopping bowl fulls of the basin water over them to get rid of the green grimey soap, while she disappeared for a bit to use the bathroom. we sat outside for a little bit as i delightedly discovered a cat in the yard and brought it into my lap.
¨i was thinking,¨i said,¨ i could come back tonight to take ayahuasca?¨
¨yes, sure. you can collect your things and then return, and i will meet you here, and introduce you to my dad. he is in pucallpa right now. his name is roger. and you can sleep here¨
she told me when the last boat was to san francisco, which would be just in a few hours, so i had to leave right away. i thanked her very much and made my way back to the docks in the beating heat, where a boat was moments away from departure. unfortunately, i lost the money that i had already spent on that night for my room, but i was too excited about the opportunity that had risen that day to care.
i don´t have to go searching for opportunities, it´s true. this is one of those things that underlies much doubt that i find difficult to look past and simply be in what i feel to be is true, what i want to be true. all i have to do is ask, to be clear in my intentions, keep moving forward, and the universe will assist me. i become frustrated and, as i have learnt, vulnerable, when i put myself into that ´search mode´for any given experience or opportunity, that strips me of my boundries, as i look for something other than my own will, which feels like a burden in those times when it struggles to reconcile the internal with the external, to embrace me and carry me along. i have been having a hard time understanding how i fit into the reciprocative nature of things, how my will and desires fit into this system that i feel left out of. after i emerged from that bout of crippling anxiety i had experienced in huaraz, i had a bit of a clearer understanding of how choice is so key, how there is really no ´wrong´decision that can be made because i am activily creating my path with each choice i make, and in that line of thought i can kind of ditch the infectious concept of ´fate´. i am sort of thinking of it as thought opportunities are like these holes that open up, are opening up all the time in every moment, that follow the rules of linear time while at the same time belonging to the shapeless eternal truth. like holes that are only open to step through for a certain period of time until they shrink back into blackness and another opens up 2 inches away, they are opening up all over the place, but the chances of ´missing´out on something is probably pretty slim, because the chances are you`re going to find yourself in more or less the same place no matter which one you step through because you´re you...alright maybe that wasn´t even worth putting in there, but, hey, just a rough idea. i´ll get on with the story.
it was perfectly timed, as the sky began to darken i had a seat on one of the last boats to san francisco with my backpack on board. for the entire duration of the ride we were blessed with the most gorgeous sunset over the outlying jungle, completely free from any obstructing buildings. when i arrived i was met by some guy who wanted to carry my pack for me, some converstation followed where i was a bit confused by his intentions, and then finally got that he was karlas uncle who she had sent to meet me at the docks. (the accent here is different from the rest of peru, and it´s incredibly difficult for me to decipher words.i feel like i´m back at square one again, every sentence spoken to me is usually met with squinting eyes, a scrunched forehead, and an exasperated, what?)
i was greeted by karla at her front steps, and was introduced to her entire family. i was invited inside and had a short conversation with her dad, defying any stereotypical ´shamanic´image that i had in mind, wearing a basketball jersey and a pair of shorts, and explained to me how the evening would go. i think because i had expressed some worry to karla, earlier, about some stories i´d heard about malintentioned shamans who violated women once ´high´, she said something in the shipibo tongue and then her mother told me in spanish that she would be there, and karla would accompany me as well, just to make me feel safe, since there would be no one else with me during the ceremony. i was so thankful for their generosity and kindness. a few hours later, we were all piled into a mototaxi and i was taken to the special space their family had constructed for this purpose, where there were a few rooms for guests, and a larger communal space with a huge mosquito net protecting the circle from any insectintruders. the sky was immaculate. it felt like i could see every star in the sky, even the milky way was clearly visible. they would prepare everything and we would all rest for a few hours, and then i would take the ayahuasca.
and so...
when it was time, i was seated on a mat facing roger and his brother, who assisted him during evenings such as this, and karla and her mother were wrapped in a blanket off to the side, sleeping soundly. it didnt taste any worse than the san pedro i had in saraguro, a little to my surprise. we sat in silence for about 15 or 20 minutes as i awaited the affects, them smoking tobacco out of a big wooden pipe. i had been so technical about it all, having been so careful earlier to state my intentions clearly, and trying to keep my nerves calm by sitting and breathing in a meditative form on the mat. what would follow was not what i had expected based on everything i had read about other people´s experiences. purging inner demons? i saw nothing even the slightest bit frightening. i was brought home..
first i began to feel a swirling pressure at the centre of my forehead, or the 6th chakra, which i have often been experiencing on a regular basis at random times, only now it was accompanied by the same kind of pressure on the sides of my temple as well. kristina? hmm? he asked me if the visions had started. no..i said. he scooted up towards me and began singing. he blew the tobacco over the top and past the sides of my head. he continued singing. then i felt my stomach lurch. and a few moments later the hallucinations had begun, and dimensions were no longer familiar. using the same substance that i recognized from my previous experience with shamanic ceremonies, he gently sprayed the strong smelling liquid from his lips onto my face, i felt nauseous, burped, and grabbed the container at my feet and wretched and vomited, only for a minute, and the nausea was completely gone. now roger too was at my side, gently singing...it´s hard to describe what i felt. i kept my eyes closed for most of the time, because when i opened them i was blown away by the figures of roger and his brother, i couldn´t tell their exact positions in the room, it was as though everything was made up of these energy panels, and they existed in each on of them, and the same with their voices. my perception of my body was much the same. i felt as though i was perceiving everything in a triangle. my mind contained the entire universe and my body was present everywhere. my visions were all shapeshifting designs of every color imaginable, beautiful patterns that i couldn´t even really ´see´because it was changing so rapidly, nothing ever once tangible really but perceived only, felt sensed. and i began to weep, crying uncontrollaby, and i didn´t stop until i began to come down and return to my regular state. i was crying with absolute joy, absolute gratitude to my creator, for the simple truth that i am, and absolutely full of love. the aspect of spiritual boundries being dissolved were much more meaningful than any of the visionary effects i was experiencing. this is what is most hard to describe, because it was a connection which allowed me to understand god. it was a meeting with my creator. so silent, so beautiful, so simple, and yet so, so powerful. i was practically laughing at myself for thinking i might meet with something alien and frightening to me. i know this. it is this awe-some love that heals. thankyou so much, my mind was uttering. thankyou so much. this is all that ever needs to be understood, this is all that matters. there are no words..there is no need for words...when this is truth. when truth is love..when the tears let up i laid down and my body became familiar again, and there were certain faces of those present in my life that came to me and i was blown away by my own, now raw and flowing, love for those very special people that have brought light into my life. i sensed that everyone else was asleep now, and i gathered my things and sort of wobbly made my way to my little room, let down my mosquito net and arranged it around my bed frame, and slept well, until woken early that morning, by a husky female voice speaking to me through the screened window, kristina..ahh,hmmm? that was your first experience with ayahuasca...your second time will be..pffhh, heheh, making a gesture with her hands. i was sleepy and my responses to her were generally just sounds, they were leaving now to go to pucallpa and i had to pay her. we thanked each other and i fell back into bed and slept until the early afternoon.
there was a man from france who was staying in one of the other rooms there, studying the plant. ¨he is a philosopher,¨ the brother told me, ¨and he writes on his lap top¨ ¨about his experiences with ayahuasca..¨¨yes¨ (nice job...) afterwards it made a whole lot of sense to me, i can see why people might stay here for long periods of time, studying the plant, and it´s affects, as a healer of mind, body and spirit.
another day of blazing sun, a slight breeze tickled the blankets and sheets hung up on lines to dry, while a woman and a child softly spoke with one another, and a man came over to speak to me, he was another brother of roger´s. ¨how was last night?¨he asked me. all i could say was, ¨incredible,¨and i smiled and hoped the look in my eyes would communicate everything. he showed me the way back to the community, walking me halfway, than shaking hands as we parted and i headed back to yarina on boat. i felt calm, and i could hear the voice of the river, the voice of the swaying trees, in a special way.
i do not mean to give the impression i had found a miracle. my mind is unchanged, and my perspective is not now magically transformed into thirdeye vision or something. i sort of thought i would experience something that would make everything clear to me, to recieve a vision that transcended everything i have ever percieved as reality...well, not so. but i was able to directly experience the nature of God, the nature of love, and that is something...that is really quite something.
now i really must get some lunch, and make sure no one´s moved my hammock!
i love you all, thankyou for keeping me in your thoughts and hearts.