One last time at breakfast we met with the swiss and an Austrian couple who live in Chile and Paris. We discussed politics, economics, education, science, healthcare and finally our experiences with diving, which the Austrian guy had a great deal of, having dived nearly everywhere. He had some interesting ship wreck dive storied tell as well. The Swiss gave me their contact information before leaving back to Iquitos with the Austrians, now I have a place to stay in Zurich.The boat that took them away brought a young Canadian dance couple who were trying to enter the US with 01 visas, which are applicable only to "Artists with extraordinary ability." The pair were also looking to do ayahuasca and were pretty cool to talk to. Their guide wasn't able to get them a ceremony while they were here, but he did find them some plants with high leves of DMT and smoke the leaves. They told us it was like smoking marijuana but much much better.It was decided that our last ceremony would be held in one of the rooms at camp, because our hut was "full of bad energy." The room Christian chose was at the farthest point away from our hut in the woods, it was an enclosed space, with blinds on the windows, making it very dark. At 8pm we entered the room and prepared to make the most of our last shot at visions with the ayahuasca medicine.Christian first prepared the room with the proper incantations, blowing smoke at each wall with a large hissing exhale, even the floor and ceiling were cleansed. Next he did the same with our bodies and after sang a prayer with our names repeated often, asking the spirits to grant us good visions. Because the acoustics were much better in the room than that of our hut, the songs were way more intense and seemed entirely different than before.Blake drank a dose and a half of the medicine, but Ricky told Christian to give me almost 3 times the normal dose, easily more than Id ever drank. Which wasn't a walk in the park let me tell you! An hour and a half later I was really starting to trip hard, sadly it wasn't to last, for I spent the next 10 minutes vomiting painfully hard. Another 10 minutes passed and I still felt pretty bad, so I forced myself to vomit yet again. After which I was much better, and thankfully, still feeling the effects of the medicine, having good visions. Well, better than the last 4-5 ceremonies at any rate.For the next two hours Blake and I laughed like crazy, each of us triggering the other with impersonations of various characters in our lives we know and love. His laugh making me laugh and vice versa, as it's always been between Blake and those he's around, having the very loud, and very infectious laugh that he does. In the end Blake made himself vomit as well, signaling the end of our final ceremony. With one last prayer, we lit the candles and sat in the room talking about the experience.Ricky hadn't drank, but in the middle of the ceremony, while we were all smoking mopatcho*pure tobacco cigarettes, even me because it supposedly helps with visions, I saw Ricky in the corner swaying side to side in a trance, breathing erratically. It only lasted 5 minutes, but he said he was having some kind of flashback, the contents of which he wouldn't elaborate on.We exited the room, swaying on weak legs, and returned to our hut, saying good night to Ricky and the young Shamans. Blake and I were struck by the beauty of the night, the stars were barely visible and mostly shrouded by the clouds, but seemed to be right in front of our eyes, shimmering in the darkness that pulsated with every breath.The moon was low in the sky, illuminating the jungle behind Wilders hut, which we were still using.Blake was still in the trip and wasn't yet ready to sleep, so he got his head lamp and we walked down to the water. This would not last long however, because his light attracted every mosquito in the area, swarming around him in a ball so dense it seemed he would be totally consumed. We returned to the room, escaping the swarm, but not the lasting effects of the ayahuasca, which kept us almost entirely awake till the dawn..
The Don Is Gone
Blake left the hut this morning before me. When I put on my gum boots as usual for the mud ridden walk to camp, I felt something squishy under my right heel. I wasn't about to walk to camp with shit in my shoes, so I took it off and looked inside to see what it was. I jumped as I saw a big ass brown spider looking ready to leap out of my boot straight at my face.As I did my boot fell from the stairs landing in the mud, and the spider raced across the ground hiding under the fire wood we used to cook the ayahuasca. I got my boot on and walked over to checked him out. He was obviously wounded by my weight coming down on him, perhaps even mortally so. I felt bad, he just wanted a warm and dry place to sleep. Needless to say, from then on out I always checked my boots before putting them on.The rest of the day was entirely uneventful. I can basically qualify the second ceremony with Don Romano as a non event as well. He was so weak that it lasted less than an hour and we felt nothing yet again from drinking his ayahuasca, which Blake is convinced is nothing but 100% vine of the dead. From what we saw in the pot, he's probably right.The next morning I had the shits and although breakfast was good I was feeling worse and worse. I had to make myself vomit just so I could eat lunch. Which was probably a mistake because of how horrible the dish was. Some kind of rice and prehistoric catfish goulash, "muck n stuff" I called it.We informed Ricky that there would be no more ceremonies with Don Romano and that we wanted Victor or Caesar as our Shamans, no one else. We communicated this in the nicest possible way of course, and Ricky was sympathetic and agreed that Romano had very low energy. He called Wilder on the phone and told him the news. Wilder then talked to me and said that Caesars son would come instead of him because Caesar was in the hospital for his wife. I tried to tell him we were fine with Victor but he was insistent and assured me, if such a thing was possible..., that his son would be fine, then the line went dead. We called back, he repeated his assurances and again the line cut out.Ricky could see we were loosing what was left of our patience and suggested a boat ride to Liberta to search for Victor. The daily rains have begun to raise the water level of the river, opening passages that were previously too shallow to navigate, we would use such a passage. Blake strapped his mini boom box around his waist and blared rap and trance music as we slowly rode through the beautiful narrow river, seeing large families of monkeys, iguanas and rare birds.When we made it to Liberta Ricky requested more rap music and then got his groove on to the beets. He's actually damn good. As he busted out some skillful moves he told us about his youth, "Back when I was young, I was really crazy. Many times my friends and I were thrown out of the club, we got so crazy dancing and drinking, you don't know, so so crazy man. Oh my god!"He danced for 40 yards straight across the main walkway of the village until we reached the Scorpion house of Starch, where we hoped to find Victor, but he wasn't there so we returned to camp and decided to sleep in same hut that Wilder usually does when guests aren't using it. We quickly noticed It was the nicest room in camp, practically no mosquitos got inside, it had big windows with great airflow and low and behold a great working shower!It made me remember the first few days we were here, when Wilder showed us the hut and told us it was the best one in camp, "you'll like it here, there are too many mosquitos in our hut, you got a nice bathroom and it's quite, your lucky." Everything That man says just adds fuel to the fire and were the only ones getting burned.We were supposed to drink again tonight, but Victor it seemed had had his dancing shoes on as well and came back drunk from a party somewhere, thus no ceremony took place. The four of us did however play Casino and Blackjack by candle light. Victor won almost every game of Blackjack, but Ricky and I destroyed Blake and Victor at Casino. Victor told us some crazy storied about being in the Peruvian military 60 years ago, and of some wild horny women needing a Shamans special touch, which of course he was obligated to provide. He was definitely drunk..
Cards & Conversation
This morning we went to camp and had or usual pre-breakfast ritual of cards and conversation. Laura was already there and joined in. We taught her criminal punch and got into a very deep conversation with her about each of our childhoods, our reasons for being here in Peru seeking ayahuasca, and what we wanted to bring back home with us to our family and friends.Ricky came in when breakfast was over and invited everyone to join him on a mission to the other villages, only Blake accepted. David and Yuka went on a wildlife tour with a different guide, leaving Laura and I alone at the table to continue the conversation.We talked about our early years and the lovers in our lives that changed us, for better or worse. How each new love was a shadow of our first, who we hoped could replace them, or a hopeless opposite that taught us exactly the kind of person we couldn't be with. We talked about our dreams for the future and what we were doing to see them come true.Whoever had the cards would shuffle them endlessly while they talked for a long period of time, it served almost as a mediation, giving each of us something to do with our hands, allowing the mind to concentrate on remembering the past or considering the future.Before I knew it, two hours had gone by and I looked past Laura to see that everyone was returning from their journeys away from camp. "They're back..." I said, rather disappointed. Laura looked, then turned back to me and said, "I think the they're shuffled enough," referring to the cards, and perhaps our thoughts and emotions as well.We talked about meeting up in California where she might visit in January - february or Europe, a possibility I admitted was very likely, considering my plans of returning to Europe for the first time in 5 years, when Blake and I were there last in 2009. That's a whole other blog that I never got around to finishing...Laura and David were leaving in less than 30 minutes and had to pack up so we ended the conversation there.Wilder came back from Iquitos with Don Romano and his son, who as we were surprised to find out, would be replacing Caesar as our new shaman. We were told this was because Caesar had to tend to his wife who was in the hospital. Don Romano was younger than both Victor and Caesar, but he looked like he already had a foot solidly planted in the grave. Anyways, we didn't understand why Wilder surprised us with this instead of letting us keep using Victor who we really enjoyed.At this point it was obvious that two more months of this experience would be far more detrimental to our health and wellbeing than it would do any good, so we sat down with Wilder and informed him we would only be staying a month. As We did, the blood in his face could easily be seen draining away, and his eyes stared through me blankly as if towards some terrible fate that awaited either him or us in the near future, I couldn't tell which.After that he got up and went into the kitchen to call Moisess informing him of our decision, walking away with his head slumped as though wounded by a sudden stomach pain. Ricky came in from outside with a big smile and a ready joke, his usual self when he isn't relating the darkest moments of his life. "Want to learn a new card game? It's called casino!" Having reached the limits of fun playing 13 and thirsty for new games to play, we easily accepted.As he was laying out the cards and explaining the game to us Wilder returned from the kitchen and spotted us playing. He walked over to us and instantaneously changed his mood as he recognized the game. "Casino?" He asked Ricky. Ricky looked up at him as though he'd just been challenged by an old rival and smiled. "Yes.. Im teaching them how to play." Ricky replied. Wilder slapped his hands together and rubbed them vigorously with a genuine smile beaming from him that I hadn't thought possible, "we will teach them together!" He announced, and sat down beside Blake looking at his cards. Ricky looked at me, winked, and nodded his head at Wilder with a laugh.Ricky played against Blake, explaining the best options to me as he went, and Wilder basically made Blake's moves for him, explaining things precisely but too quickly to be of any use. Blake, I mean Wilder, ended up winning. The next game was just him and Ricky while we watched. I've never seen Wilder so happy and animated before, he's obviously very good at cards.We skipped dinner and sat down for ceremony with Don Romano, his son, who helped him with all but handing the cups to us, and Ricky who translated. We drank and I asked for the true spirit of ayahuasca to flow through me. I was very happy through the whole ceremony, but otherwise was totally normal. The ceremony, if you could call it that, was only an hour-long as opposed to the normal three and Don Romano barely chanted or did any rituals for us. All he did the whole time was smoke heinous amounts of tobacco and cough. Blake denies it but I swear I saw him fall asleep 30 minutes into the ritual. Neither of us vomited and we both went right to sleep.
Friends In Need
You know that feeling when you get up in the morning tired, not from a state of sleep, but a state of frustration, the kind that leaves you somewhat dreading the day ahead? And all of it manifested from the course of a sleepless and otherwise uncomfortable night? Well this was such a morning. It was worse for Blake then it was for me, I actually slept a little, he did not. You see, Ayahuasca keeps you awake, because it, like many other drugs, keeps your mind, or your body, fully engaged. Making sleep a very difficult proposition, even for someone like Blake, who finds sleep easier than I could find water falling out of a boat.At 8 in the morning Wilder came to our hut with two plates of food, each with a portion of Patarashka, vegetables and boiled potatoes. After finishing our meal, which actually took us some time because we weren't really hungry and still in slow mo from our long night, Wilder asked us about our ceremony. Did we have visions? what did we feel? were we ok? that kind of thing. Caesar ate nothing, he just watched and listened while smoking a jungle cigarette (pure tobacco, no chemicals, but strong as all hell)I told him I had no visions, but to clarify for the readers, I had no hallucinations, I did see many things in my mind, but not through my eyes, a distinction I make because in my own opinion, for it to be a true vision, it should be seen, not only thought about. Semantics perhaps, yes, but the most powerful psychedelic trips I have ever experienced, those I truly felt to of had visions with, were those I could not outrun by the simple closure of the eyes.I went on to say that after the ceremony was done I felt a great sadness come over me as I went through all the friends and family I have suffering back home, and all over the world, from a multitude of things really, things like drug abuse, post traumatic stress, anger issues, identity problems, broken homes, debt slavery, cultural occultism, obesity, anxiety, bipolar-ism, materialism and the list goes on..I felt their pain and their struggles to survive against the monsters that haunt them all. How lost each of them are in their own world of sadness they cannot escape. Each of these people has a history with me, moments we shared, both good and bad. They are important to me as companions in the long and unknown journey that is life. I travel the world in search of the things that will change me for the better, forge me into who I will one day become, and in so doing leaving them behind on their own.It is a new idea I've come to recently, one that has shown great promise for the dreams I have for the future. That is, to help them, I must first help myself. For no broken man should hope to successfully lead another before mending himself. This means we must walk the paths we choose, and look not back upon the choice as an abandonment of the other, but a path chosen to lead oneself into the light of your brightest future.We may not stand on the same ground or face the same trials, but they remain inside me, deep in my memories, locked away tightly but free to roam within me as well, surrounding me always, riding my shoulders when I need them to give me strength, when I use them as examples of how to be or not to be, and how to succeed when my base personality requires a certain trait to best suit the moment. It is through them that my adaptation to the ever-changing world I explore is accomplished.Due to a psychedelics ability to emulate any reality, while using them you can actually feel the physical and emotion feelings of others, not just people, but animals, insects, anything. It doesn't end there though, your mind in this state of awareness, depending on dose, setting and the type of substance, can be truly limitless. While emulating their pain, feeling their frustration, I too suffered and I thought about how much I cared for them all and want to help heal their wounds somehow. When you care, you cry, not always because your sad or angry, often because your happy, amazed at your luck, your circumstance, your role in this cosmic play you were born to fulfill. I did cry and all these reasons flooded through me readily.I related this as best I could to the Shaman through Wilder, without getting too detailed, for it would take to long and was not necessary for the Shaman to know at any rate. When I was done Caesar told us he saw the spirit of a large swamp tree surrounding us during the ceremony and that we needed to visit such a tree and pray for our friends there. So after lunch at around 3, Wilder, Moisess, Caesar, a guide, Blake and I all got into a jungle boat, a roofless canoe carved from a single tree, and hauled beside us another boat that belonged to another village at the mouth of the river.At the other side of the river we slid the boat on to the shore, dug an oar into the mud and tied the boat to it. We all got out and started walking into the jungle. There was a path there, cut through the brush, by my uneducated guess, Id say it was traversed a few times monthly at best. It was not very wide or well-defined, it was swampland so for most of the walk we trudged through murky water or mud, always minding our steps as our gum boots got stuck from time to time. We came to the tree only 15 minutes into the walk, but before we were to engage in the ceremony we walked another 15 minutes to get to a small pond with large water lilies floating around the edges.On our way back we stopped at the tree, which was a big black old growth, with large fanning roots that suspended the entire tree above the ground and into the air. An evolutionary trait many trees in the Amazon developed to survive the extreme rise and fall of water that happens every year with the coming and going rains. All around us were vines hanging from its upper branches that also dug into the swamp around it. Some vines in the Amazon are known to strangle the trees they attach themselves to and use the energy they produce to survive because they themselves cannot perform photosynthesis.Caesar, who had been smoking the entire day, blew cigarette smoke all around us, in our clothes and into our faces, making us lower our heads so he could blow smoke into the crowns of our skulls, using his hands as a tube as he blew while chanting with each exhale. He asked us to gather all the positive energy we could and then place our hands on the tree and pray, and so we did. For 10 minutes my mind raced through all that I had thought of and felt in the night, and I asked the spirits of Ayahuasca and of the tree to send all our energy of love and compassion, hope and strength to all our friends and family, but mostly for those friends of ours who are truly lost, truly in need of change. We finished our prayer and left the swamp returning to camp.For dinner we had a plain noodle soup and plain rice, which is much different without being cooked with salt, a truly bland starch is hard to swallow, so we got a lime and squeezed it over it, when that wasn't enough we used a jungle orange, which is actually green and tastes much less fruity than the orange ones were used to, it was a process we would come to repeat almost every meal while at the retreat. When dinner was finished we retreated to our hut in the woods and waited for the Spaniards to come, who can made a deal with Wilder and Caesar to have a one night ayahuasca ceremony. I stayed awake just long enough to hear Caesar begin chanting and then dozed off, my mind lost in the heavy air of sleeplessness and strained emotional faculties...
Ayahuasca - The Shamans Consultation
We had a big breakfast and a light lunch, eating nothing else for the rest of the day, but still having plenty of water to drink, a requirement in the tropics and indeed anytime you travel. You must have your wits about you after all, and without the main source of fuel for your bodies proper functioning, all hope of such performance is quickly lost to delirium.When night fell and Wilder, our guide and interpreter for our meeting with the Shaman and still further for our trip into the jungle, came to visit us at the Salamander backpacker hostel where we stayed. We took a motortaxi while he rode the company motorcycle behind us. For 15 minutes we rode back in the direction of the airport, through narrow, dimly lit streets and passed various establishments of unknown or questionable character, until turning off the paved road onto a muddy dirt path, with only a single light at the far end to light the ever narrowing corridor.We came to a stop at a light blue building, unfinished in construction by any western standards, but perfectly livable as far as anyone here in Peru is concerned. We were greeted at the door by a large elderly women and several kids of various ages swarming about her feet. As we entered the household Dora the Explorer, a children's cartoon, was on the tv, in Spanish of course, and besides a few things hanging from the walls, the room was remarkably plain.We passed through the building and out into the back yard, ducking under the numerous clothes lines stretching from one end of the back yard to the other. It was dark, but we could see multiple chickens running about at our feet and all over the yard. Mostly we heard them though, there must have been quite a few because we heard many chirps from every direction.Wilder brought us into an enclosed area where 2 chairs and a bed sat across from each other. We greeted the Shaman and he asked us to sit down, we did. Wilder explained everything we must do to properly experience the ritual and went into careful detail how we should and shouldn´t react to certain things that might happen."You must trust the shaman, he will take care of you. You may lose yourself completely to the Ayahuasca if you do not concentrate on what you're doing and why you are here. Remember to always remain focused, your focus determines your reality." Having taken numerous psychedelics before I knew the truth in Wilder's words. It's very easy to let go of yourself and fall into oblivion, it takes guts and raw determination to hold on in the face of utter annihilation.Before of laying out on the mat the shaman set his bag of pure-leaf tobacco cigarettes, 6 bottles and a special fan that helped ward off evil spirits. "Before you drink, you must ask the spirits what you wish to see, ask them to show you, and prepare to see what show you." said Wilder.The Shaman poured me a cup and blew heavy tobacco smoke into the cup, which swirled around inside it and seemed to regenerate itself from inside the cup, long after he had finished breathing into it. Then he blew smoke on my head, down the front and back of my shirt and finally he poured liquids from the other vessels into my hands, which he gestured for me to rub all over my body, as a protection against pain from vomiting or evil spirits coming and going from my body.Finally it was time to drink, I raised the cup to my forehead and asked the spirits to open my heart to the healing of the plant and allow the Shaman to read me like a book, in order to see what must be done in the future, this was after all our first ceremony, designed to show the Shaman how much work he must do in order to help heal our body and minds.I drank the liquid in one shot, taking note after the fact, the fowl, bitter taste of the viscus substance. No matter how hard I tried to swallow the taste away, it seemed to leave a thick layer of itself sticking to the walls of my mouth. In 20 minutes or so it finally faded away. Perhaps It was still just as strong, I just didn't care to notice anymore. Blake drank next, but took it in a few tilting shots. The Shaman took the cup then gave it back to him, asking him to finish everything that was inside, which he did.Wilder gave us a few more bits of information, letting us know that our ride would return at 2am to pick us up when the ceremony was finished, and left the small enclosure, closing us in with a graded piece of metal that had been sitting idly in the corner. As he left, the Shaman began his preparations, and he to drank a cup of the Ayahuasca, poured from the same bottle.We were asked to close our eyes for the entire ceremony, and the Shaman began his chanting and heavy smoking of tobacco. After 40 minutes I had kept my eyes totally closed, it was at this point I began to feel the effects pooling around my consciousness and ten Minutes later it was in full swing. At first it distorts your sense of location, in the sense that you can no longer tell where your own eyes are located. You still see normally, if you care to open your eyes, which I did every so often just to anchor myself to reality, if I felt lost or confused, but then your mind takes on a numbness I can't really explain. Your entire perception of direction is torn slowly away from its origin, and dragged along another plane of existence in a continuous fluid tear within your vision.At this point, all kinds of emotions and feelings rushed into my mind, I felt the presence of disaster in the actions that colored my failed relationships, How wrong I had been in so many ways as a youth and the people id negatively affected along the way. The faces of my family, alive and dead, came quickly, in and out of my thoughts. Not so much as clear visions but as memories and feelings attached to them.I threw up soon after the heaviest part of the trip was beginning to fade, it was at this point the Shaman presented me with another full cup of the Ayahuasca brew. I took the cup, performed a similar ritual as I did the first time, and drank. Unfortunately I wasn't yet done vomiting from the first time around and immediately threw up the second cup while Blake was receiving his next dose. So the rest of the ceremony was a cool down period for me, while Blake kept both cups down without throwing up, until hours later when we were about to leave. "A trait that has inspired many friends and fellow trippers alike to nickname Blake, iron-lung or lead-stomach."Many times during my mushroom trips and even lsd, I experience these emotions and see the same messages, it is because of those psychedelic experiences that I've been able to come to terms with my past, and better deal with all the things in my present, and indeed, even my future. This experience was quite strong for Blake, but not that much for me. Which is fine, because as the Shaman would later tell me, I was quicker to purge what was inside, while whatever was within Blake, was deep within him, and would take more time to expel.At around 1:30 The Shaman took Blake out of the enclosure and brought me to the cot to lay down. While I lay there thinking about the experience I overheard Blake vomiting loudly somewhere in the backyard. For another hour or so I lay there, trying to relax, not knowing exactly where Blake was or what he was doing. It was now 2:30am and from the darkness we heard, "Daniel? Are you ready?" "Yes," I said, "Blake, how about you?" a slow and half way sounding, "yeah." came from the darkness.We thanked the Shaman and wobbled heavily out of the back yard, nearly tripping over the numerous chicks jetting side to side across the yard like mini velociraptors. We came back into the house, said goodbye to the family, got into the motor taxi and drove home in silent amazement at what had just transpired. Reaching the hostel and climbing into bed, very little was said. I found it difficult to sleep, but eventually sleep found me, and yet no dreams would follow, I felt as though I had been in a dream all to real, for a very, very long time...
The Red and White Lines
We spent the day with Caroline, walking about the city, going shopping and eating the Ayahuasca diet meals at Margaritaville. Carolina told us that there were shamans in her family as well and some of her aunts warned her of using magic abilities that she might possess as a passed on trait, from generation to generation. Then she went on to tell us that while under the power of Ayahuasca each person may be presented with two lines of color in their visions, one Red, representing the dark spirits, and one white, representing the good or neutral spirits, and that each person must choose which line to follow.Just as in Star Wars, the dark side is quick and easy, seductive and also quite destructive, while the good is a difficult lifelong process that can be lonely and seemingly un-rewarding at times. While we might not always remain on one line or the other, it is important to know the difference, and make a conscious decision about which one you want to follow.We finished our meal and Carolina went to work while we spent the next 4 hours at an internet cafe, I updated the blog and Blake watched London Real, A youtube based talk show program that interviews all kinds of businessmen, athletes, inventors etc, with the main them of the show being ¨It´s about the journey¨ with one of the usual topics of conversation being psychedelics and each interviewees experience or lack thereof with them.When we finished up there Blake and I had an intense conversation about our childhoods concerning all the ways we treated each other and how the effects of those actions last even to this day. Blake said, ¨People have so many problems, many of them are bullshit white people things, first world problems you know, but they still affect us all in lots of ways, sometimes so badly that were fucked up for life and we don´t even know why, lashing out at those closest to us without even being able to explain the cause.¨While we were having this unreal dialogue a man in blue cut off jeans and dark ray ban glasses came up beside us as we were looking out across the Amazon. ¨relax im a local, I live here.¨ He said in hushed tones, as he swayed side to side a bit with his body as his arms got comfortable gripping the concrete railing in front of him. ¨It´s wild here isn't it?¨ he said, wiping the sweat from his brow. ¨Strong stuff they got.. I partied all last night. Dancing naked with the crazy girls. My fiancée would be jealous though I think, Don´t tell her ok? Shes over there.¨ As he tilted his head in a completely obvious manner behind him towards the cafe at our backs.¨What are we talking about here, white?¨ I asked, swiping the tip of my nose with my thumb quickly, a classic cocaine gesture. He exhaled with a low-tone laugh and looked side to side then looked out across the water, raising his Ray Bans closer to his eyes. ¨You know people come from thousands of miles to Iquitos to get this stuff...¨ a long pause and then he continued. ¨Ayahuasca, you know?¨¨Yeah we know.¨ we said. ¨That´s why were here.¨ ¨Ohh! well then, come with me, come, come along this way with.¨ not even finishing the sentence as he turned away from us walking in a zombie like stride towards the cafe. Seeing no real danger in the obviously tweaked but coherent individual, we followed him 30 feet or so to the table where his companion, the supposed fiancée, was sitting.He told us of his plans to sell his boats in the Caribbean and elsewhere, in hopes of furthering his business dealings in import export, presumably from here in Iquitos back to the States, and then we started talking about what we were all hoping to find, or perhaps run away from here in Peru. He told us he had ptsd and that the Ayahuasca helped him in many different ways. We asked him what he had gotten ptsd from and then he told us that both his father and his brother had hung themselves one after the other. We told him that he was doing the right thing using Ayahuasca and that we were glad he was doing ok. ¨You guys are good people, your ok with me, I want to help you.¨ He said, as we reached inside the cafe window for a pen and paper.¨I got this guy, he´s a real Ace. Lives in the village not far from here, I´ll give you his number, call him, he´ll fix you both, a real Ace!¨ He said, as he lowered his Ray Bans for the first time revealing his heavily hollowed, blood-shot eyes and a finicky gaze. He wrote down the number after placing the dry slip of paper on a perfectly damp portion of the table, handing the now soggy information to Blake, who thanked him put it in his pocket. Blake and I introduced ourselves and with a moments looking around he told us his name was John and that he too was glad to meet us. ¨You going to be alright?¨ we asked, as we excused ourselves. ¨Ohh yeah.. Me? I´m just an old Hanger. I´ll be fine.¨ A very curious expression to use we thought, and said goodbye, walking away without a word to each other until we rounded the corner towards Margaritaville.¨Be careful who you trust.¨ Said Blake, ¨That´s what the coca leaf shaman told me in Cusco.¨ ¨Funny,¨ I said, ¨The shaman told me I don´t trust enough.¨ we laughed and then talked between us wondering which line John was following now, the Red or the White? A question we both equally must consider for ourselves...
Fairwell Cusco, Bienvenido Iquitos
Early in the morning, at around 6, I got up and said goodbye to Luiz whose bus left at a 7am, "When I get outside I will cry." he said, gave me one last hug and squeezed through the narrow slit in the doorway with his large pack. A couple of hours later Ninoska left, we had a nice hug, and then it was just the 3 of us, Blake, Humberto and I. Humberto made a delicious enchilada breakfast with last nights left overs and then he too left us to tend to his business.Our flight to Lima was at 2:40 so we waited until 12 to get a taxi to the airport, which was 8 soles. Upon arriving the woman at the Avianca counter asked us for our tickets, we had only the print out given to us at the main office, she seemed terribly distressed by this, asking us if we had signed in electronically via the net, we said no and this didn't help her worried demeanor. She told us it was a security precaution and that someone had already signed us in. "must have been the people at the office we bought the flights in." We said. We eventually we settled this and then she informed Blake that his pack was to unorganized and had to be wrapped in a plastic wrap before being allowed on the plane, so they charged us 35 soles and wrapped it in an alien green plastic sheath.When we went through security the guard pulled me aside and asked me if I had a pocket knife in my bag, I did, he made me remove it and was going to throw it away, I stopped him in his tracks and said, "this is my father's knife, I'm not throwing it away." His face turned ugly and he said it wasn't possible to keep the knife with me on board, I asked him if there was a way to get it into my checked baggage and he said It was very unlikely. With a final plea he let me through the security door in the back and said I had 5 minutes to return through security and that getting the knife checked was my responsibility. It wasn't really my father's knife, but I had gotten it in Switzerland with my mom more than 15 years ago and I wasn't going to let it go just because it wasn't a good enough story to pass mustard with this guy.I went back to the Avianca counter and asked if they could check my knife in my bag, they said it was impossible, I would have to check another bag with the knife inside. I feel silly to have suggested checking my toiletries bag, but I did and they almost snickered at the idea of it. So I checked my trusted yellow backpack, the one I've been traveling with right by my side for the last 9 years, without ever checking it. I did remove my money satchel first though, if nothing else, Id have that to get me through things if it was lost or stolen. Money is the most important thing to travel with after all. I got back through security and joined Blake sitting in the waiting area of our gate.I looked at my ticket and thought I saw our arrival time as 6:05, I had told our couch surfer in Iquitos that we would arrive at 8:30, So I paid the 3 soles at the cafe for use of their wifi and related to her our change in arrival. Blake got a medium size bag of classic Lays potato chips for us to share and we waited for the gate to open. Soon we were boarded, and as soon as our plane took off I checked my ticket again and noticed with great disappointment in my powers of observation that our flight didn't in fact arrive at 6:05, but at the original time I had told her. As if to ease my conscience, the pilot informed us that due to better than expected flight conditions we would be arriving in Iquitos at around 7:40, which made my blunder a little easier to take.We arrived in Iquitos and walked off the plane down the steps on to the tarmac for several hundred meters until reaching the building at the far right side where our baggage would be unloaded. Moments later we had our bags and exited the building straight into the parking lot where an army of motortaxi drivers and anxiously awaiting relatives of all types waited to see their kin, or whoever it was they were there to meet.There standing next to the curb was Caroline, our local couch surfing host. The three of us greeted each other and crammed into the first motor taxi who had a reasonable price, which Caroline was easily able to accomplish. The motor taxis which I refer to are nothing more than split down the middle motorcycles with a back-end resembling a two-wheel cart with a plastic roof. Some are nicer than others to be sure, but anything fancier would require some higher purpose that doesn't really exist around these parts, with the exception of those used for hauling commercial goods that is.We reached Caroline's fathers hostel, named the Salamander Backpackers, and unloaded our gear into our double bunk-bed room with a single rickety fan spinning haphazardly from the ceiling. The beds were 20 soles a night, which we didn't have to pay. She took us to a local sports bar that was owned by an ex marine and baseball player from Texas that had amazingly decorated walls, full of jerseys, sports memorabilia, 25 foot snake skins and much, much more. The upstairs bar was named Margaritaville and aptly so, the winding metal staircase was actually pretty treacherous, in the states we'd call something like that a lawsuit waiting to happen, but here in Iquitos, and indeed in South America at large, no such weakness in a local drunks character, or ability to make any claim of fault except that of his own, exists.Looking at the menu, we found the Ayahuasca diet options in the very back. Blake chose the veggie burrito and the fish and I the personal veggie pizza. My pizza was blander than any Id ever imagined, it didn't even have tomato sauce on it, I nearly choked on the dry crust. Blakes Burrito was the same, but at least his fish was alright. We ended up having to get some sugar-free fruit juices just to get the food down. We spoke a little with Caroline about our plans here in Iquitos, that we were looking for a legitimate Shaman to facilitate our Ayahuasca Healing and that we were not interested in a mass ceremony with many people. She said she knew someone who might be able to help us and that we could talk with them in the morning. We returned to the Hostel, said goodnight to Caroline and returned to our bunk beds to sweat the whole night through beneath the rickety, barely effective ceiling fan.
A Shamans Tale
In the morning Ninoska took us the the open market that takes place every Saturday in the plaza. We had a great deal of sweets and fatty deep fried potatoes filled with vegetables, mushrooms, creams, meats and spices of various kinds. We even had ice cream that was hand made right before our eyes, they used a bowl that was spun by hand over some freezing mechanism until it churned into a creamy delicious cream, each cup was 1.5 soles and definitely worth it.From there we found the official Avianca office and changed our flights to wednesday, the change cost us an extra $15 dollars, but we were happy to have the matter settled at last.It was at this point that Ninoska suggested we visit the coca leaf Shaman that lived two cities away. Luiz, Blake and I agreed and the four of us departed on the 2 sole bus that drove in a straight line all the way there. We got off the bus, turned a corner and entered a large house to the left of the street. Ginny pigs in cages lined the wall to the right, with little chiwawa type dogs digging through a compost/trash pile in front of them. To the left and down a few steps was a bench we were to sit on and wait. Beneath it, was a female German Shepard sleeping happily, and beside her was a doberman pinscher licking her gentiles on and off the entire time we were there.A lady had arrived before us and had asked the shaman to help her family with some woe or another. The shaman asked her to write the names of the individuals in need of help on a piece of paper and wrap it around a candle that she would light and sit in front of in prayer.Blake went in first, with Ninoska as his translator, while Luiz and I waited outside. I asked him if he was going to see the Shaman, he didn't seem to think so, but when when Blake came out with a shocked look on his face he seemed to change his mind. I went next.Inside the dark room was a large condor hanging from the wall and many paintings and feathers, rugs and beads dotting the room, with trinkets and such of unknown origin here and there. I sat down he asked me my name, "Daniel" I said, and he told ninoska that he had a good friend with that name who killed himself out of insane jealousy for his girlfriends secret lover, then the shaman went into a trance asking me to blow 3 times into a ball of coca leaves he had bulging in his hands. An interesting way to begin I thought...At first I didn't want to seem to reserved so I blew hard into the leaves and watched him twist them in his hands letting them fall bit by bit as he spoke. The first thing he told me is that I had fallen into a shallow pool when I was very young and hurt myself badly, and that this event had made me distrust the world and had made me a dire pessimist. To rectify this, he said I must return to the place it happened, put the dirt closest to the event in my mouth and ask my spirit of optimism and trust to return to my body.It was true, I had fallen into a shallow pool when I was around 2 and had a shattered bottle pierce my heart, nearly dying and having to go to the hospital. I've always had a dire pessimism as well, and up until now haven't really understood why, perhaps this is my answer.He went on to say that I worry far too much about everything and that I must be positive or I will draw all the negative of the world into myself and effect everyone around me badly. Then he said that I have the spirit of the Whale within me and that I thrive most around the water, "this is where you must live and work he said." In addition to this he said that I will likely marry a Gemini and have 2-3 children.He asked me if I wanted to ask him anything and I asked him what my destiny was, he held the coca leaves tightly then relaxed and said my destiny was to help others and that I would be the bridge between foreign cultures, that I would help cure peoples broken bodies through Reiki and yoga and that If could open all seven of my chakras I would be fine in life.Then he said that I would return in 2-3 years to Peru and that I would have my own business one day.I thanked him, half in shock and almost in tears, and exited the dark room, rejoining the others outside. As I sat down Luiz entered the room with Ninoska while I took my place next to Blake. We both sat motionless for a moment and a powerful gust of wind blew over the entire village, when it settled, both Blake and I looked sideways at each other, each recognizing the expression of awe on the others face, and in unison we laughed as though stunned by some irretrievable thought. "what a trip huh?" I said, "Yeah..." Blake replied.Blake explained his experience, and I mine, when Luiz exited the room, we could both tell it had been the same for him. Although It is an event we all shared, it is a personal one and so I will not relate either of their experiences here.On the ride home, Ninoska explained in further detail the words of the Shaman for each of us, being the only person who speaks Spanish fluently we relied entirely on her for what was said. After we shared our thoughts very little was said, and we rode the bus back to Cusco in a state of contemplation with dreamy gazes facing no direction in particular.We decided to visit the Black market, I needed a belt for my pants and bought 2 hand made tribal ones for 5 soles each, one for me and one for Blake, which he uses as a bandanna.Having 2 days left here in Cusco, and with not much else we want to see, Blake decided to look for San Pedro, another Shaman plant that has been used in the Americas for over 3 thousand years. Named "Saint Peter" by the conquering Spanish upon their arrival, The name is attributed to the belief that just as St Peter holds the keys to heaven, the effects of the cactus allow users "to reach heaven while still on earth"After only 2 minutes in the market we found a woman selling 2 full cactus's, she asked us if we wanted a full or only part of one, a full, she said, would be enough for 5 people. We decided to take the full 7 foot cacti... Taking it home, Ninoska showed us how to remove the fine, plastic like layer of skin, dice it and boil it down for a couple of hours, which is exactly what we did.After a few hours we had 3 large pots filled with San Pedro cooking on the stove. Having no clean socks or cheese cloth to strain the cacti with we used Blakes, Harrington #3 Warriors jersey to extract the last of juices from the pots. In the end we had 5 liters of Mescaline in 2, 2.5 liter bottles. We chilled them in the fridge and planned our trip before going to bed, already a bit stoned from cooking the brews over a friendly game of 13 over several hours...