Otherwise

Our plan is to walk to a nature park on the outskirts of the city. The hotel manager says we ought to take a taxi as the walk there is somewhat dangerous. I am restless, however, and intent on getting some exercise. He notes my stubbornness, and tells us not to take anything of value, not even the cheap shell necklace around my neck. And he tells us we should not walk home after three or four in the afternoon. With small quantities of cash in money belts, devoid of any jewellery, we brace ourselves and begin our walk.

We walk quickly, with purpose. I try to give an air of steely confidence, as if walking down this busy commercial street is something I do every day. I am happy to stride, content to watch Brazilians go about their daily lives while I try to remain unobtrusive. The final stretch of the walk is indeed more creepy. The busy commercial street leads to an almost deserted, extra wide, run down avenue. Most disconcerting is the lack of people. Dogs roam the street and lick at garbage strewn on the sidewalks. A rusted car with a built in stereo on its roof roars past us, techno music blares.

Finally we reach the park and breathe a short sigh of relief. The park is an oasis of nature. Water runs through the rock and tree lined pathways. There are several exhibits – an butterfly conservatory, an aviary, a lookout tower and a boat museum. We pass a small pond where the Amazon equivalent of ducks paddle though water, their songs a high pitch squeal rather than a “quack”. Tall, slender white birds with long bills tread elegantly on stilt legs across our path. A low gravelly burble emits from them, a sound that defies their sophisticated appearance. A little further on, a gigantic green iguana slithers on its belly across a metal fence, then moves liquidly towards us. Its tail curls proudly upwards, like a ringmaster’s whip. It’s a beautiful beast.

Lunch consists of a bold pureed corn stew with teeny shrimp. It is tasty, though its strong flavour builds throughout the meal until I can eat no more. After lunch, the butterfly conservatory delights us with multi-coloured winged creatures that flutter and flit. In the bird sanctuary, a guide tries his best to communicate the different species of birds. He is very helpful, and obviously loves his job. A very calm bird sits on his hand, and the guide urges us to gently stroke her purple feathers as she coos. Meanwhile, an aggressive little bird speeds after people’s shoes, pecks and pulls at rubber and fabric with her long, skinny crimson beak. We rush away from her, as we’re wearing sandals, and don’t want our skin abused.

We grab a snack of strange muffins that look like they are made out of little styrofoam balls. They are rubbery, and dense with a forceful taste of anise. Once again, the punchiness of the flavour is delectable, but I can not finish mine. James eats my leftovers.

We take a taxi to an ornate cathedral, only to discover (we should have remembered this from Europe) that because we are wearing shorts, we can not go inside. We watch outside as a mass takes place. On our way back from the cathedral, a torrential downpour catches us. We are happy to experience rain in the Amazon, and it is a welcome break from the driving heat.

For supper there is Tucupi, a regional dish of duck stewed in manioc leaves. Curious of Brazil’s national alchoholic drink, Caipirinha (Cap-ee-RIN-ya), I make the mistake of ordering one. Due to esophaugus problems, I have spent the better part of the year abstaining from alchohol. I think one drink really can’t do too much damage. The Caipirinha is delicious; refreshing and sweet. It is made out of caxaica, an alchohol derived from sugarcane itself, limes, and sugar. I quickly reel from its effects, and worry that I will make a fool of myself in front of the children at the table next to us. Upstairs to our room James leads me, where I am free to be the fool I am. “One caipirnha”, I think, “just one!”

All in all, it’s been a great day.